Red used to be Elang's favorite color. A symbol of courage. Something he wanted firmly embedded in his character. A man had to be brave! That used to be his life's motto. Now red was no longer about courage, but death. Blood. Red.
It happened less than a year ago. Before his eyes, Elang watched red spread everywhere, covering the face of Auren, his lover, who lay on the asphalt moments after a truck hit the girl's petite body.
That's not Auren, he told himself, trying to deny it.
The girl's face was no longer recognizable.
"No!" Elang screamed hoarsely.
Reality overpowered the force of his scream. Auren was dead. No matter how many times he called her name, her body would never move. Broken, drowned in red.
"Elang, wake up!" Mina pulled the blanket off her only child’s face.
Elang opened his eyes reluctantly. His mother's voice in the morning wasn't an alarm he could silence with a single press. Mina wouldn't stop calling until he actually got out of bed and ended all his dreams from the night before.
"You took your medication last night, right? Don't forget. This morning too. Take it right after breakfast—I've already set it out. Come on, get up and shower!"
Elang nodded, then wrapped his arms around Mina, avoiding her gaze. Mina could definitely tell when Elang was lying just by looking at him and hearing him speak. The safest thing to do was hug his mother while patting her plump shoulder. Like most other middle-aged mothers, Mina was short and heavy, comfortable to hug, and always smelled faintly of onions.
Secretly, Elang had stopped taking his medication two months ago. The medications prescribed by his psychiatrist only made his mind dull and his heart numb, while Elang wanted to feel more, to remember more, about Auren.
Mina herself never stopped worrying. Not for a second did she want to take her eyes off Elang. She had thrown away every sharp object in the house, leaving only one kitchen knife for cooking. Even that she kept in a cabinet whose key hung around her neck. She didn't want to see Elang cutting his wrists and growing weak from bleeding profusely ever again. Enough!
"How are you feeling today?" Mina let go of Elang and touched her son's face.
Elang was handsome like his late father. A high nose and a slender jawline. Only Elang's eyes resembled hers. Round like almonds, they softened the harshness of his other features. He was a gentle, sensitive man. As a child, Elang could cry sorrowfully over little things, like when the sunflowers Mina planted had reached the time to wilt and dry out.
"Wonderful, Mom!" Elang grinned, hoping his answer might lessen the darkness beneath his mother's eyes or bring a little brightness to her pale cheeks.
"Aah, look at Mom's face! So haggard and tired. The whole night was wasted worrying about you. It's time you put an end to all of Mom's burdens. Stop making her suffer!" Familiar voices shrieked inside Elang's head. Those same voices had guided him in making plans for what he would do that day.
"Want to come with Mom to the restaurant?"
The restaurant Mina meant was a family business passed down through generations. It was a famous restaurant in their city known for its signature Kalasan fried chicken. The seasoning soaked all the way into the bones, and its sweet-and-spicy sambal was unlike any other. Mina had taken over the business after Elang's father died of an illness. There had been no significant difficulties, since they already had a loyal, talented staff.
Elang shook his head. He and Auren used to eat there often. Auren had been Mina's favorite customer, practically her own daughter. Every corner of the restaurant reminded Elang of Auren. Even after Mina redecorated every ornament in the restaurant, Elang was still haunted by Auren's image.
"You could go see Hans. That brat must miss you." Mina offered a suggestion.
Elang chuckled. Hans was his childhood friend, a famous playboy in the online world. He had millions of followers on Instagram. Though he was busy working as a brand ambassador for several local fashion labels, he always made time to visit Elang.
Several times, Elang had slammed the door in Hans's face, rejecting his presence so he could curl up alone with his grief over Auren's death. But Hans never truly left. Without a word, he stayed there, waiting until Elang was ready to open the door for him again.
Hans was too precious to be his friend. He should have just left, like everyone else. Sometimes Hans's kindness made Elang's chest tighten.
"Yeah, I'll go to his house after breakfast," Elang said, lying again.
Elang's footsteps carried him in the opposite direction from Hans's home. His plan for that afternoon was already complete. Mina suspected nothing. He had plenty of time before Mina realized that he hadn't gone to Hans's house at all, but somewhere else—to an old building that had once been an auto repair shop.
Elang stepped into an unlocked warehouse. It had once been his and Hans's headquarters when they were children. They used to play war or simply lie around on piles of old tires, pretending they were in a magnificent castle and were knights.
Elang then arranged all the piles of tires and coils of cable he found in the corner of the room. This time, he wasn't building an imaginary castle like he had back then, but a stage for his death, with himself as the lead actor.
He had already tucked the cable into the warehouse's steel roof frame, arranging it so it would be strong enough to hold his body. Elang stood on a pile of old tires and looped the cable around his own neck. Everything was ready. The one-man show would begin shortly.
"O death, I welcome you!" Elang prepared himself.
(To be continued)