Exactly nine years ago. Somewhere around the Malacca City of Malaysia, inside of the Melaka General Hospital.
"Haha, sorry ma!"
Soft and cute giggles clear the tense atmosphere that hospitals usually have everyday. Just a few of those giggles is enough to make a severely injured man smile in relief just hearing it, and even a baby would stop crying and would suddenly go fast asleep. And while it happens, Mother Claria is brushing off little Trizha's nosebleed, while Trizha is giggling and Mother Claria is definitely struggling. Although, she can't help but soften her giggles.
Mother Claria: "Trizha…! You're lucky you're so cute, otherwise I would've scolded you right here! But, that still doesn't change the fact that you stupidly pushed a pencil inside your nose."
Little Trizha: "Hehehe, I was just curious if magic like that works!"
Mother Claria: "*sigh* You reckless idiot… There's no such thing as magic, only clever tricks made by the adults. Don't get fooled by magic shows on television."
Mother Claria says after she softly sighed, smiling in concern to little Trizha as she finishes cleaning and brushing away nosebleeds from her nose.
Mother Claria: "There… next time, don't push a pencil inside your nose, or else you'll have to treat yourself."
Little Trizha: "Okay! But can I still go and pat dogs from the roads?"
Mother Claria: "No. You'll get bitten."
Suddenly, multiple nurses and some guards enter the hospital from outside, with some of them stained with blood in their clothes but no injuries. However, they are pushing several crank beds containing severely injured people inside as they head for the surgery rooms, probably caused by gunshots if you look closer. Some of the residents watched in horror and disgust, some in fear, and some were even flabbergasted because some of those bodies were… children.
Mother Claria, by instinct, immediately went to look at Little Trizha and cover her eyes to avoid any potential trauma from forming deep inside her. Little Trizha tries to remove her adoptive mom's hand from covering her eyes, but her grip is tight.
Little Trizha: "Uhm, ma? I can't see…"
Mother Claria: "D-d-don't worry, dear… just a bunch of perverts coming in naked…!"
Mother Claria says in desperation, trying to hide the fact that gore is right in front of their eyes. It took two minutes until all of the nurses with the crank beds were gone, as Mother Claria sighed in relief and finally lowered her hand off Little Trizha's eyes to let her see again. Mother Claria then straightens her back, until she hears a couple of old women talking about those patients in the crank beds just now, listening intently.
Old woman 1: "Poor those children… What kind of devil did this?"
Old woman 2: "I heard those patients came from the Little Caliphs Kindergarten. They were caught in a school shooting… How terrible."
Mother Claria can't help but feel bad as she stared at the old women and listened to their info about the incident, her eyes glancing at the corridors where the nurses brought the patients in, before turning to Little Trizha with yet another sigh.
Mother Claria: "Trizha, let's go somewhere else–"
Suddenly, she realizes that Little Trizha is gone the moment she turns back to her, out of her sight.
Mother Claria: "Tri-Trizha?!"
She glances around in panic, trying to look for Trizha until she begins to walk around and look for her.
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Meanwhile… Little Trizha is walking around the corridors of the hospital, her expression being that of rainbows and sunshines, as if nothing as messed up as 'severe' is happening around when she herself is standing in the floors of a blood-stained building filled with unforgettable horrors and memorial miracles. Indeed, she is unaware. A natural facade of a child who knew none but rainbows, alphabets, and cheerfulness.
Each step she makes, were sounds of none, as if her bare feet itself were very soft like that of a sneaky little ninja who's surrounded with unprecedented history. And the more she leads her own route… the more she is further from others whose routes have reached their edges in this very hospital. Her route was endless, or at least what a child had in thought or stored.
But soon enough, she makes her stop. A stop that led her to hear two new voices coming from inside one of the hospital rooms in the corridors—one was a father who wants to keep going in his path, and another is a mother who is disillusioned into thinking there was an immovable obstacle in front of her path.
The Father: "C‐calm down, calm down… she hasn't given up yet, don't worry… she'll keep fightin–"
The Mother: "Be quiet!! I've already lost one daughter and I am about to lose her twin sister!"
Little Trizha peeked into the room by the door frame, seeing an engaged couple having an intense and tragic argument about something even more tragic than it is now. She doesn't know how to sneak quietly just yet, and yet, she is already making less enough sound to be unnoticeable. She thought it was another one of those reality shows her grandmother watches on their television, but this is, in fact, a real reality.
The Mother: "She has stage 4 cancer for god's sake…! She's already suffering before we even took notice of it!"
The Father: "I know, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I was busy, but… but don't worry, I'm going to take responsibility, so please! Calm down… and put that down… s-slowly…"
Little Trizha was pixelated at the argument she never knew was one. She's usually seen the same thing from the television but it always ends up with those people forgiving each other. But in this scenario, she became confused. It wasn't the ordinary 'forgiving' scenes—as the father seemed cautious and scared for some reason, and the mother is standing in front of the father with a menacing posture and some sort of "toy" she is holding in her right hand. What is it? For what she knows, she's already seen some of those toys. They are also usually colorful and fire cold water just to annoy and have fun with her neighbourhood friends…
The father: "Hey, no no, no! Wait!"
The Mother: "I… I have enough of this… I always wanted to have a family with my children being twins and you staying by my side… But I guess… I guess I messed up, as always, didn't I?"
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"If I can't even let live my own children, why would I?"
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Little Trizha raises an eyebrow, she wants to walk in completely and try to ask the two adults whatever was happening between the two of them and maybe try to escalate the situation. But she stopped herself when the Mother suddenly slowly raised that "toy" and pointed it at the side of her head… "What is she doing? Why are water tears falling from her eyes? And why are her eyes… So empty?" Little Trizha thinks. And since that toy was raised, she finally had a better look at it; it's a gun. She's usually seen them in the movies her adoptive father watches.
But suddenly, she realizes something—"is this a new movie?! Wow! No wonder there's a gun in that big girl's hands! I can't wait to watch it! I gotta go tell mama." She thought, before she rushed away from the door frame to go back to where disappeared and meet up with her mother. And while she does, she suddenly hears a loud and sharp, percussive sound that flinched her for a second and made her stop in her tracks. And so, she looked back. She heard the father mourning and crying loudly from the distance coming from that room while nurses ran past behind her, rushing towards the room as if it was the end of the world.
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She doesn't know why, but this is probably part of the acting in the movie she anticipated, or at least she thought… and at that thought, she decides to just shrug it off and face forth to continue running around the corridors. But soon enough, yet again, she makes her stop as she notices another thing in front of her. This time, a doctor exits another room, saying;
"I-i'll be right back… stay here, don't leave the room, and never listen to whatever is happening out here!"
The doctor said, speaking to someone Little Trizha didn't see until they left by the door frame and rushed past Little Trizha, also barely telling her to go back to the hospital lobby.
However, the door of the room was left open. So out of curiosity, she made her way inside. She stopped by the frame of the door, her gaze lifted from ground to front view, the blinding light clearing as her gaze finally fell to another girl who's probably the same age. The only visible difference of their distinctive features is that… the girl lacks any hair in her head, and a pale skin that reflects the light that thought were the same of its kind.
That girl is already sitting up from her bed, her gaze previously focused on the open window by her left until she felt a presence by her right, and now her gaze is focused on no more than Little Trizha herself.
???: "...Are you a 'norce'?"
The girl asked, her gaze on her momentarily softened, before it reverted to its curious nature. The same goes for Little Trizha but only a little differently—who was also stunned momentarily with parted lips and jaw open until the bald girl made her speech, bringing Little Trizha back to her usual senses and shaking her head for a second and then making her own speech.
Little Trizha: "You mean 'nurse', also are you a boy?!"
???: "...huh??"
The girl froze in shock and confusion that formed an exaggerated expression when Trizha mentioned a question whether she was a boy or not… probably pointing out her lack of hair, feeling offended herself.
???: "I-i'm not a boy! My name is Wyne, and my daddy said it's a girl name, so I'm a girl! A female!"
Little Trizha: "'Wine'... so you are a boy!"
Little Trizha said, her finger lightly brushing her "beard" from her chin as she rethought the name "Wyne" and took it as "Wine", a drink usually consumed by a lot of men. Before accusingly pointing her index on Little Wyne that she is in fact, a boy.
Little Wyne: "I just said I'm not!"
Little Trizha: "Then why are you bald? Many boys were bald, I saw it on television!"
Little Wyne: "Do you believe anything you see?"
Little Trizha: "To see is to believe!"
Little Wyne: "T-that's the wrong order! To believe is to… wait, no that's not the right order…"
Little Trizha: "See?? I was right, that means that you are a… uh… a no brain boy!"
Little Wyne: "It's 'idiot girl' for you!!"
Little Trizha: "Haha! Also, I'm Trizha, and…"
Little Trizha once again points her index on Wyne accusingly with a wide grin in her face, outshining Wyne.
Little Trizha: "...You made fun of yourself!"
Little Wyne: "Ugghh!! You are annoyingly arrogant, even worse when you offended me beforehand…"
Once again, Trizha froze, stunned at the realization that she couldn't understand more complicated words especially to someone of her age… her mouth has parted yet again, mumbling a few words without noticing it was loud enough to notice.
Little Trizha: "This boy is smart…"
Little Wyne: "Again, I'm a girl!! And yes, I am smart. I rushed my studies and learned more words than usual."
Little Trizha: "I'm a bit… uh, what do you call something when yo-you can't make some words–"
Little Wyne: "Speechless. You meant speechless…"
Little Trizha: "Oh! O-oh… what is speechless again?"
Little Wyne: "...You're slow, just like me. Or you just lack knowledge… also, you're not supposed to be here, you know."
Little Trizha: "Huh? Why not? I'm also patient, like mom said!"
Little Wyne sighs, crossing her arms as she shakes her head and before looking at Little Trizha with an irritatingly disappointed look in her face that says "You don't even know the rules? As expected of a 7 year old… I mean, I just know more."
Little Wyne: "Being a patient doesn't give you access to enter a random room without consent… Not to mention that this isn't a regular room either. Only me and my relatives have access to it."
Little Trizha once again caressed her "beard", thinking hard of what Wyne said. And then, she snaps her fingers and gets it.
Little Trizha: "Ah-ha! So that makes you a bigger patient! It makes sense now!"
A sweat falls down from Little Wyne's head to the face, a bit frustrated.
Little Wyne: "You're both right and wrong… but I guess it wouldn't… hurt telling you anyways…"
Little Trizha: "Really? Do tell!"
Little Wyne took a moment of silence… a hesitant look on her face and her biting her own lip was visible, an almost vulnerable facade. She looked down, reconsidering whether she should actually tell or not. She's a child with rushed knowledge, so the thought of responsibility consequence hasn't been a necessary concept for her. And the reason for her rushing to gain knowledge at a very young age was…
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"I have cancer. I'm a cancer patient."
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And so, Little Trizha's eyes widened in surprise, momentarily stunned yet again, and also speechless. She didn't expect that to be mentioned, let alone in a conversation she first thought was innocent…
Little Wyne: "And at stage four at that… i-i don't know much about cancer, or learned about it… but it hurts alot. I feel weak, and my hair is gone—it all fell down. So no, I'm not a boy… just a withering flower, like my mom said."
Little Wyne continues, her voice softening into something more vulnerably tragic. She wanted to look up to Trizha, look into her eyes, and show her that despite everything… She is fine. However, she couldn't do it, all because she can't help but remember those 'words' of others that continued to linger in her mind…
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"Waa! She has cancer? Get away from her!"
"She might infect us, go into the no-no square!"
"Teacher, is cancer a disease? Really? Then I don't want to touch her…"
"Hey, I'm sorry but… I don't want to be friends with you anymore."
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Those words lingered in her mind. Words that she once knew from voices that used to laugh with her, now those same voices haunted her. But even so, she acknowledged it. Even at such a young age, her self-rushed studying made her become aware that she couldn't do anything about it and decided to acknowledge it all… and she couldn't… but wait to be withered.
Little Wyne: "It's a disease, Trizha… a sickness. There's no 'cure' for it yet… and many others I once knew left me because of it."
She says, and so, she lifted her gaze back to Trizha, slowly and slowly… her own mind muttering even without a voice, as she analyzes Trizha's face, searching for any signs of… disgust.
"She is… probably going to be disgusted. Scared. Even regretting ever entering the room. That's not my fault, at all. But… it still would hurt."
She stared at Trizha, her expression filled with expectations. She already knows what's going to happen, after all, it often happens. Very often. It caused her so much that her initially child-like facade was masked with insecurity. She hates it, but she can't help but acknowledge it… after all, she can't do anything about it. That's life.
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"They're missing out"
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That word… surprised Little Wyne. Her gaze that spaced-out out of expectations, returned the instant her ears carried the sound of a new voice entering her eardrums… a voice that she just met, from a girl who entered her room without consent… and then came confusion.
Little Wyne: "...what are you talking about?"
Little Trizha: "Your friends already left you just because you have a very, very, and very bad fever? Heh, it only took me three days to lose my fever!"
Little Wyne: "You little idiot…! Cancer is a–"
Little Trizha: "I know, that's why I said that it's a very bad one."
Little Trizha stepped forward, with a smile on her face, determined and cheerful, all the opposite of what Wyne initially expected…
Little Trizha "What I meant is that your friends missed out on you because… I can tell that you're very friendly! And because of that, I wanna be friends with you and never leave you!"
Little Wyne: "You… h-how can you be so sure about that–"
Suddenly, Little Trizha grabbed both sides of Little Wyne's head with both of her hands, before pulling her face closer to herself, and snuggle to her face with her own face for a few seconds before pulling with a smiling pout in her face, while Wyne was also, yet again, not stunned, but shocked. Momentarily shocked.
Little Wyne: "W-what did you just…"
Little Trizha: "I infected myself with you and your sickness by connecting our faces together! Now I've proved myself that I won't leave you!"
And once again, Wyne's eyes widened, more shocked than ever. At that moment, she stopped acknowledging the fact that she can't do anything about it, because, after all… someone can. And that someone, was the someone she just met, and yet, she felt eternally connected to her. The two are chained up together… but only by their pinkies. And above those chains… were the Tears of a Slowly Withering Flower.
She teared up, Wyne is. She lowered her head and sobbed, her tears falling into the white blanket that used to belong to the blood of others that once held it in their final days, now that same blanket will be stained by the end of those tears. And her once pale and cold skin… has warmth.
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"Trizha… You reckless idiot…!"
Little Trizha panicked after hearing what Wyne just said to her and seeing her crying, looking around quickly for ways to comfort her while she was unaware that Wyne said that as her own form of appreciation. She was already… comforted enough.
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And eventually, the two little girls with different morals and point of views with the world, decided to spend the rest of their day having fun themed by a newly formed friendship, then the next day after that, and then the next, and the next. Little Trizha always bombards Wyne with fun and childish games traditionally in her hometown whenever she comes over to meet up, but Wyne apparently already knows these games. And whenever it happened, Wyne found herself surprised. Surprised that she's actually enjoying their games together compared to the last time she had with her other friends.
For the first time in her seven years of life, she felt something she should have, a newly formed bond she never knew she needed… all those laughs, all those smiles, they felt genuine. While growing fond of her, she knows Trizha only came because she only wanted to look for new friends, someone to release her laughs, and that was all. That much she knew, yet she didn't mind and went along with it when she knew she shouldn't. After all… she did it in a way unprecedented — she unknowingly saved someone.
And how did it happen? She motivated Wyne enough to try. She already brushed her face on a sick person without warning, and that action made Wyne realize that there was already no point in giving up when something had started. An unfair and quite cruel rule she planted unto herself… yet in a way that made her smile. It's a positive, strict, psychological rule.
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"Ah. I remember now, what happened that day. I understand it all now. I was disillusioned into thinking that it was just a movie in the making, and Wyne… she wasn't exactly slow. She always proclaims that she was one."
"...and now that I mentioned it myself, it's probably her "defence mechanism" to get comfortable with others… wait, no that doesn't make sense… no, it's definitely just her way of trying to get friends, since she herself used to have none until I entered her room."
"And… that day, a flower withered, and another bloomed. And just like that day, I am also disillusioned to this very day.
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"I'm sorry, but all the CCTVs only show you running around the mirror house… there wasn't any little boy with injuries."
A CCTV operator says, their tone hinting disappointment. Makes sense, after all, they were looking forward to it, looking forward to seeing an actual child having wounds and causing a little drama. And so, she sighed. Trizha that is. Her tone delivered even more disappointment, and short for realization… that she was indeed disillusioned to this very day, as she stood in front of the operator who is inside of a mini CCTV operation house.
CCTV Operator: "Uhm… are you sure you were not drunk yesterday? Because that is surely a delusional thing– i-i mean no offence…"
Trizha: "...No. I'm not drunk. I was sure there was one."
CCTV Operator: "...Really? If my eyes weren't wrong about this, your eye bags tell me otherwise…"
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"Then look me in the eyes and tell me..."
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The CCTV Operator gulped, a sweat falling down their faces out of nervousness and anxiousness. They try to stare at her eyes, but couldn't help but look at her entire face instead; visible eye bags and puffiness, disheveled hairstyle, and… lack of cheerful expressions she usually brings out of reality.
"...What makes you think a kid like me, drinks?"
For the god knows of the operator, they are sure that this kid… went through a lot.