I was dying. I couldn’t remember anything else, but I remember dying. It was very painful. I remember trying to scream, but it won’t reach my throat. I could not find a release for the pain. I felt my heart struggling and finally slowing to a stop; and it was the most wonderful feeling. Slowly after that, everything went black.
I wake up to find myself in a white room, nothing else but cold hard white walls, floor, and ceiling. My eyes felt heavy. I realize I am lying down, so I try to stand up. I fail. I can only sit.
I take a look around and nothing changes, still the blank, white room. It’s making me nauseous. I put my head in between my knees and close my eyes hard. Harder. Maybe I’m just dreaming. This can’t be real. I will close my eyes and when I open them, I will be back in my room where I’ll find my paperwork due tomorrow and my empty coffee mug. David will be there and everything will be okay and normal again.
I open my eyes.
No. No! What is happening?
“Hello?” I yell, “Is anybody there?” I say in an almost whisper, “What’s happening to me?” I am answered by silence.
It felt like days. I lay there for so long I was starting to feel like I don’t exist. Then the voice came.
“Emily.” I immediately stand up, like I’ve finally had enough strength to do so. I search frantically, everywhere. To look for a hole, a speaker, or even a line that isn’t white. I find nothing.
“H-hello? Who’s there?” I feel like my throat has not been used for centuries.
“Emily. Do what you must,” the voice says.
My forehead crinkles in confusion.
“Do what? What am I supposed to do? Where am I?”
Everything is black again. I shudder as a cold lash of wind skids through my skin. It is only then that I realize I am wearing a hospital gown, of course it is white. Another lash of wind comes and this time it is harder, that I felt it almost cut me. I take another look around.
***
I am no longer in a white room. I am back in school. University of the East, the entrance says in big golden letters. I am in the Manila campus, Recto gate. This, I’m sure of, because I’ve studied here for six years. I eyed my surroundings. The wide space in front of the offices, on opposite sides of the entrance is filled with students. I can’t panic now. I need to focus. There are a lot of people walking near me.
I immediately try to speak to the first person I see. “Can I use your phone?” I ask a tall college girl with short blonde hair. She ignores me. I try another student. The same thing happens. I find a security guard and grab him by the shirt. I am taken aback. I cannot touch him. My hands go straight through him. What in the world? Am I a ghost?! Is this a big joke?
***
Another wind comes, and I am brought to a classroom. I am sitting on one of the chairs in the back. White walls, I shudder, a white board, blue chairs, and a few windows, in a room that can fit at least 50 people. I see myself standing in front of the room, waiting quietly, a marker in hand. I look 20 years older. It is then I realized that this is my future. I am seeing my future. But where’s David?
“Good morning, Ma’am Ramos,” each of the students greet my future self as they walk in. Ma’am Ramos, I married David! All of them had smiles on their faces. Except this one girl.
She doesn’t acknowledge my presence nor tilts her head up. She remains looking down at her shoes as if they were the most precious things in the world. I try to walk over to her.
She has long dark hair, fair skin, a petite build, and big eyes. She’s pretty. I wonder what’s wrong with her. And then I stop wondering, because right at the moment when I start to walk away, my future self yells.
“Sarah!”
The pretty girl with the big eyes stands up, startled.
“Recite the Preamble of the Philippine Constitution.”
She was obviously shocked, her already big eyes got bigger, and as she looked around, as if looking for help, her arms fell to the sides. Defeat. That’s what I thought – knew – she felt. I looked at my future self and got mad. How can I be this cruel to a girl? This can’t be real. Was I going insane?
I hear some of the students whispering, so I lean in to listen.
“There she goes again,”
“Why does she keep humiliating her?”
“Is this some sort of revenge for her?”
“Is it true that she’s –“
All of the whispers were silenced by a smack on the professor’s table. My table.
“This, class, is a perfect example of who you shouldn’t be in my class, “ I turn to Sarah, I saw that her hands were clenched, tight. “How can you come in to my class unprepared?!” I yelled.
“I – I,” Sarah stuttered. She didn’t seem to know what to say.
“You what?!”
“I didn’t know we had to memorize that, Ma’am Ramos.”
“And so? Am I supposed to spoon-feed everything to you? Get out of my classroom! Right now!”
Sarah does not move. Her whole body was shaking.
My future self throws the marker at her and at the impact of it to Sarah’s left eye; the whole class reacts – including me. Why would I do that?!
I can’t take this, I need to get out. I feel bad. No, I feel terrible. My hands were trembling as Sarah’s did, but mine were trembling from anger, guilt, and frustration. And I fell on the floor as I closed my eyes as hard as I could... wanting to get out of this.
“Enough!” I screamed. Soon after, a wind lashes once again and it almost pushes me off the floor, I kept my eyes closed. No. No more.
***
I failed to have no more, because I open my eyes to the sight of the bright sky. I felt the ground beneath me and the strong smell of grass attacked my nose. I looked around and I noticed that I am in the Tan Yan Kee garden, lots of grass, a long stone bench beside me, the place looked peaceful. I heard Sarah before I saw her.
She was running to the far end of the garden, near the gates with the view of the highway in front of the school. She was crying.
“I can’t take this anymore,” she cries, “it’s too much. It’s not my fault.”
I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to tell her I’m sorry, that I don’t blame her.
“I can’t take this anymore!” she screams. A few people loitering around the garden looks at her and I can see recognition in their faces, some of them smirk.
She sees this as well, and immediately after that, her eyes change from defeat to rage. She makes a run for it and I follow her. She goes for an odd looking, white building. It’s windows are dusted and the hallways look old – the College of Education building. She runs to the highest floor, does not even pause for a breath and stops in front of a fire exit. No, I thought.
I watch her take her steps slowly this time. What is she doing?!
She goes in and takes a long look at the ground. I take a peek as well and the sight terrifies me. Tears streak her cheeks, her lips are quivering. I don’t know what to do! I try to pull her but it won’t work!
Is no one seeing this? Where are the students? The professors?! Someone help!
She takes another step. Two more steps and I know what’ll become of her.
“No more...” she whispers. I felt tears coming from my eyes. What is she doing? Why?
“No more of your humiliation... of your torture. I will not take any more of the blame. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault! I didn’t have anything to do with it...”
She takes another step. No! What is she saying? What did I blame her for? What happened? She grabs the rusted metal railings, the only things keeping her from falling, the chips of paint are peeling and I see them fall all the way down before the wind takes them. My stomach plummets.
“Why don’t you just do it?” Sarah and I turn to the sound of the voice. My voice, to be exact. What the hell was I saying?!
Sarah’s face turns blank. It’s void of any emotion as she speaks.
“None of it was my fault. Why are you making me suffer for it?” she asks quietly.
“Because, my dear,” I say in a mocking tone,
“You killed David!” I was shocked to hear myself scream.
***
The wind comes back, but this time, it is not as strong. I let it take me, because I could not take what I was witnessing.
Then comes a splash of colors, an array of sounds. I am brought back to my delirium. White walls and white everything.
“What do you want from me?” I cry. “I don’t understand!”
I curl into a ball on the cold and hard floor. “What did I do wrong?”
***
It seemed like an eternity before I felt the wind again. My body did not move at all, my eyes are dry and swollen from all the crying. I closed them once again and opened them to find that I am lying on the ground, the strong smell of grass familiar.
I am at a cemetery.
No.
NO!
I look around. No one is here. I am sitting on top of a small hill, a grave stone underneath me. I cannot scream, nor cry, nor breathe.
Sarah Ramos, a loving daughter, it read, and beside it; David Ramos, you will be missed.
Words do not come out of my mouth. Instead, memories flash before my eyes. The accident. The car crash. The hospital. The baby... our baby. My Sarah.
***
This time, the wind doesn’t come. I go back to the white walls. The empty space. I felt like I deserved that torture.
“Emily,” the voice came back. I almost forgot about the voice. I do not answer.
“Do you now know what to do?” I nod my head in confirmation and in an instant, the pain comes back. I felt my chest constricting and I could no longer breathe, I felt like I was dying the second time around, and everything goes black.
***
The hospital comes into view as I open my eyes for the nth time.
“She’s awake!” someone yells. “check the stats! Ma’am? Can you hear me?”
“Goodness, you gave us quite a shock there. Are you alright, dear?”
I am confused. “Wh-What happened?” I nearly cry. Finally... some interaction. I try to sit up but she refuses.
“You seem to be in shock ma’am, why don’t you take some more rest?” the doctor says as she prepares herself to push me back down.
“No! I want answers now!” I wanted them, I needed them.
She didn’t know what to do, and neither did I. She shook her head and sighed.
“Ma’am you were in an accident with your husband earlier today. You were on your way to deliver your baby.” I put my hand on my stomach and notice the change.
“Where is she?”
“She’s in the NICU. She had trouble breathing,” the doctor said.
“She’ll be okay...” I said and tried to lie back down slowly.
“Do you want to hear about your husband, too?” she asked. I nearly choke on my own words. I refused.
“Why don’t you want to know about me?” my eyes widen. I quickly sat up to look for the owner of the voice. Because there he is, my husband, my David. In a wheelchair with blood stained bandages. Alive. I smiled from ear to ear and felt the tears fall down my cheeks.