Five

c a t h e r i n e

He saw me. 

The existence of Vernon was never known to me. Maybe because I never paid much attention to anyone. 

Sure, I've known him as this good-looking guy who resembled young Leonardo Dicaprio with his chiseled jaw and golden locks. But his name or who he was, never really crossed my mind. I ignore everyone unless they have anything to do with me. 

Although I’ve heard a few stories about him, I never bothered caring. They say he was trouble. He does drugs and has a bad temper so he’s always into street fights, but I honestly thought he looked nothing of the like. 

But then again, it never mattered what I thought of him because we were never close. 

Not until he saw my self-harm scars. He couldn't be ignored anymore. The thought that someone else knew of my tendencies haunted me to death. It fed my anxiety until it grew monstrous in my head. His disappearance after that day bothered me too. 

What if he's skipping classes and spending time with his friends? And by spending time, in their conversations, he accidentally mentioned me? That Catherine Jung has evident scarred wrists? 

Of course, they would doubt that at first. I have a good reputation and when you have a good image, people would take good prejudice of you. You always win the benefit of the doubt. But what if he insists? By then, the word spreads, and what if I am confronted and found? 

If my father finds out about this, if the school finds out that I, an honor student and a member of the student council, do it, what would they think? Sure, there’s mental health awareness and the possibility of being understood is now greater, but I don’t want to be deemed anything other than perfect, unproblematic. 

Since then, I have fought all my negative thoughts, but they never really go away that easily. The fear is always in the back of my mind. Sometimes, I could tame it better. Often, it wins me over. This monster is always in my head, sometimes he's the size of a pea, sometimes, it's swallowing me whole. 

The only consolation that lessened my excessive worrying was when Vernon appeared in class again without anything spreading about what he saw. I thought I could shrug off his existence again. Go back to when he was a stranger. 

But sometimes, no matter how you try to stay in your own bubble, things will just find their way to you. Life isn't always something you can control. I knew it when he stumbled upon me crying, and when he insisted that I should help him on our Creative Writing project after blackmailing me. 

I knew it even more when I saw him in front of the club that I work at. An unlit cigarette hung between his lips as his eyes froze incredulously at me. He was struck as if he had just seen a ghost. 

He saw me. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Don't try resisting or I'll hurt you." The old man threatened me as his grasp on my arm tightened. 

"I don't want it, please." I cried desperately. 

"I'll pay you a double, huh? What do you say? Don't be scared." He leaned to whisper on my neck.

“I know this is out of your service, but I’ll pay you..”

I could no longer listen nor be scared. With all my might, I kicked his stomach. He groaned and his hold of me loosened. I squirmed violently and ran in desperation to disappear as fast as possible. The wind sent me flying and minutes turned into seconds with my speed. 

Vernon saw me. Yet again. In a situation I would never want anyone to see me. It's repeating and echoing in my mind over and over again. It gets louder by the second. It turns into a lethal scream that wouldn’t leave my head. 

That night, I went home and stayed awake till sunrise, praying Vernon won't tell, again. Or if I could be a bit more delusional, I hope he didn't recognize me at all. 

My complete inability to sleep that night turned me into a lifeless corpse the next morning. I was an empty vessel in a street full of life.

Early mornings like this are particularly busy. It's called rush hour for a reason. People are not wasting a single second to get into their jobs and universities with their hurried steps. Most days, I am one of them. You walk and you just walk, with a schedule in my mind. Nothing else matters except getting to class in time.

We are robots under time's control. A slave to its dictation. With a schedule in my mind, I usually just walk ahead with these people. With the absence of time consciousness, I guess, one truly learns to live. Just like now. 

My slow pace was contrary to people rushing about. Only now that I really didn't care about time, I noticed a blind beggar selling off his paintings by the street. I am certain he made them because currently, he is sketching another one. A portrait of Jesus. I wonder if he is partially or totally blind but nevertheless, his talent left me in awe. 

Instead of heading towards our school, I trailed for a nearby coffee shop from across the street, in hopes to find Vernon there. These days, I had seen him there often with his friend, Mingyu. 

I absentmindedly admired its cozy interiors from its glass walls until I caught someone familiar. Half his face hid beneath his hoodie but there was no mistaking who he was. I was right that he'd be here. 

I contemplated whether to just walk away. But instead, I went inside the café. Vernon had his head down in front of an untouched cup of coffee which has probably long lost its warmth. 

He jerked his head up and welcomed me with an empty stare. His eyes displayed no emotions amidst the berry-tinted and dark blue skin surrounding them. He looked worn out. He appeared a thousand times older to me. 

"Hey." I sat across from him. 

The uncomfortable silence embraced us like an uninvited guest. I cleared my throat and gathered my strength to confront him about what he saw. I rehearsed it over and over in my mind.

But to my dismay, I ended up with different words instead.

"Uh, how are you?" I inquired in a rather quivery voice. 

Vernon's smoldering eyes shifted at me. His gaze burnt on my skin longer than expected which sent chills beneath my spine. Then he laughed out of the blue, head tilting back and shoulders slightly shuddering. 

A humorless grin was still plastered across his face when he leaned towards me. 

"The amount of chances we've seen each other and not a single "how are you" until now." He crossed his arms, amused whatsoever. 

"You actually approached me first now, huh?" He paused and snickered more to himself. "Tell me I'm not tripping." 

His smug air didn't entertain me. All my displeasure with his presence resurrected but I managed to set them aside.

"Why the sudden change of air?" 

"Are you sick?" He leaned to touch my forehead but never really let his palm land on it. His hand was frozen in the air until he rested back on his seat.

My fingers fiddled anxiously. I struggled for one good breath. My lips parted for my second attempt at asking him about last night.

"About--"

"I'm not in the mood."

We blurted at the same time. 

"What?" 

"If you're here to discuss my Creative Writing project, I'm not in the mood to do so. Set some other time." He said dismissively. 

I was caught in a daze. Why is he acting like he didn't see me? 

I pondered deeper. Perhaps, he didn't really see me? Or he didn't recognize me? Either way, a seed of hope sprung in my heart. Maybe the heavens decided to be upon my favor this time.

But I still need to be sure.

"Well, uhm..." But how the fuck do I start it? I was getting frustrated by my inability to come up with the subject.

"Don't tell me you're here for a coffee date with me? I have not asked you out yet."

I sighed heavily, preventing the profanities in my head. I held on to my dear patience and ignored his never-ending sardonic remarks. I need at least one bit of confirmation that he isn't pretending to not recognize me from that club. 

"You see, Catherine, I appreciate your decision of being suddenly empathetic now. But I am not really feeling well."

"Are you sick?" I echoed his question earlier.

Vernon's lips curved cockily. "Yea. I think I might be getting sick." 

"You probably got drunk again last night, huh? Hang-over?" I seamlessly questioned to get details. 

He let his grin linger for a while as if settling to his own disbelief. I couldn't blame him. My sudden interest must be so bizarre. Even I found it so awkward! 

"I wasn't drunk." The stone-cold eyes resurfaced. 

It was unnerving how his whole demeanor could change within seconds. But contrary to prior days, he looked so dominantly unwell today that I couldn't deny the element of truth in his remarks.

"I don't drink alcohol with drugs, Cath."

Oh. 

I don't know how often but I know he does it. 

Either way, I'm not one to throw prejudices against his acts. The moment I found out about it, it struck me but remained just that. If I felt something else, I would be worried. 

Every time I know something bad about people, I start to wonder why instead of despising them. Everything has its reasons. I think one should never judge without getting a glimpse of them. Evilness must be innate but conscience is too. One could never surrender to being bad unless he is flightless over it. I don’t tolerate recreational drugs of course, but I don’t see myself hating on Vernon for doing it. 

He must have been high when he saw me. He must have thought he was hallucinating or due to his psychological state, he must not have recognized me. That's an advantage for me but instead of relief, a slight worry behind my mind pestered me. 

"Are you okay?" The words slipped my mouth before I could stop them. It's a stupid thing to ask but I lose my control under pressure. 

"I'm starting to think you really care for me now."

"I mean, the comedown of drugs could be.." I paused, and wasn't really sure what to add. "exhausting."

The rebirth of Vernon's smirk appeared before my eyes.

"What? You do drugs now?"

I couldn't believe we were having this casual talk about drugs. 

"No. Of course, not. I would never. I'm just knowledgeable."

"Knowledgeable." He drawled amusedly.

"You know what? nevermind--"

"I took benzodiazepines as downers. I'm completely fine right now except I feel sleepy."

I nodded, quite relieved. 

"Why not drink that then?" I eyed the already cold coffee.

Vernon shrugged. We both fell quiet. Strangely enough, the sudden stillness wasn't so unbearable anymore. The dead air was no longer ruthless. 

The sunshine that was peering over the trees outside hit the glass windows. Vernon's skin glistened golden against its rays. All the while, I admired the view. 

"As much as I love your presence here with me, I wonder why you're not in class yet?" Vernon burst the bubble. 

"I was running late so..." 

"Woah. You never run late.”

"You're a stalker, aren't you?" I glared at him.

"I just see things, Cath." 

Right. He sees things like he always sees everything about me.

"I decided to ditch class," I admitted. 

Vernon's mouth formed into an exaggerated O. I rolled my eyes. 

"For me? I suppose?" He taunted. 

"If that will feed your ego, go ahead." 

He let out a satirical laugh then turned serious. 

"Really, Catherine." He probed, unconvinced with my excuses. 

"I just didn't wanna be at school."

Honestly, I didn't have anywhere else to go. My friends are mainly my acquaintances at school. I don't have anyone outside the premises. I can't call them to skip classes with me. Not that I would want to drag them into my problematic state of mind, nor would I want them to think I’m becoming careless of my studies. 

"But if I am disturbing you--" I gathered my things, was ready to leave until he called me again. 

"Catherine, do you want to go somewhere with me?”