I.

You are nothing but a drop of water in an ocean that extends itself to the depths of the world.

• • •

THE ROOM was dim, the dead silence illuminating. At the center of the grandeur place stands a woman adorn in a white simple dress.

Her hair was a flowing black river with eyes that seemed to have lost their colors because of the reoccurring thunderstorm and pale, grayish lips as though they had been a living corpse.

I bit my lip at the emergence of heavy panting. The sound of a beast huffing as though it was devouring its prey.

In an instance, I see myself waking up from a terrifying dream.

I let out a deep sigh, buds of sweat pouring down my forehead.

"Nothing . . . it was nothing but a bad dream," I reassure myself. I could feel my heart racing, my lungs out of breath and my pillow wet from my sweat.

I look at the four corners of the room and there I am, still lying on comfortable linen with white soft covers and two lamps illuminating the light. 

I get up from the other side of the foam, still feeling the soft fabric of my clothes wrapping around my body. I walk towards the mini kitchen, only to pass by a mirror in the living room. 

A woman of tone, with short black hair and a thin-framed body.

"I don't even recognize the woman I am looking at."

Mornings are especially warm for those who have had a good night's sleep, but for those like me who have reoccurring nightmares every night, what do you expect?

Cold water touches my skin as I splash it across my face. The mundane feeling of waking up the next day and forcing yourself to live it despite all your undying wishes of death makes it ironic and funny at the same time.

"Good morning, aren't you the woman who lives in the room right beside ours? I see you from time to time, but you always seem to be in a hurry."

A feminine voice from behind stops me for a second, causing me to glance at her.

"Ah yes, I am and good morning. May I help you with anything?"

The woman was an average of five feet tall, with locks of gray flowing through her shoulders. She had small creases right across her forehead and carried herself in an elderly manner.

I was on my way to the ground floor to take out the trash in the condominium when she approached me out of nowhere.

"Well, dear, my name is Amanda, and I would like to welcome you. It hasn't been long since you moved here, right? I've baked some cookies and would like to give them to you."

A genuine smile flashes through her lips while her eyes were squinting into a crescent look. Meanwhile, I only stare at her for a few seconds before I force a grin.

"Oh, thank you! You didn't have to." I fake the sincerity in my tone and act surprised at the customary gift.

I didn't know that the people in this building love to welcome their neighbors.

Do I have to do the same?

"Try them! I baked them with my grandson last night and thought of letting him greet you, but yesterday . . ." She pauses for a second, as though awkwardness is building up on our walls.

"Please don't worry about it. I'm fine," I reply, trying to reassure her, but my hands were roughly crumpling at the brown bag full of cookies.

"Are you sure?" The old woman was about to touch my hand when I unconsciously moved away.

"Y-Yes, thank you for your concern." There was a hint of stutter in my tone, but I keep my cool. "Then, I'll be on my way," I immediately reply after turning my back on her. I noticed how her face slightly turn surprised with my sudden demeanor.

"Alright, dear! Let me know in case you need help with anything!" the woman says as I walk further and further away.

Yesterday's actions are a complete mess. I do not know that I would react that way so much that I would feel embarrassed interacting with my neighbors.

I bit my lower lip.

How am I supposed to face her and her grandson again? It is too humiliating!

After dumping the trash in my room to the ground floor, I quickly go up back to my room and close the door.

"Fuck," I cuss once my bottom hits the floor. My arms slowly go up to my knees and my head is lying on my forearm. "Fuck life," I continue while my eyes are shut tight.

The bag of cookies was beside me, standing close to my two feet. I can still feel the warmth from it before the woman named Amanda gave it to me.

Last night's event was a complete disaster.

I was too drunk from the alcohol I had bought at the nearby convenience store and did something stupid.

Yelling, screaming, crying . . . it was just an explosion of my emotions, and I couldn't grasp the full situation.

The only time I felt cold water splash against my face was when a man about six feet tall with messy brown hair and blue-clear eyes came up to my door with a tray of cookies.

He was furrowing his brow the whole time, but my eyes were fixated on his sharp, masculine look.

"Cookies. My grandmother wanted to give this to you. " The moment his voice reaches my ear, my eyes almost sparkle with interest. It was such a cold baritone voice that you only get to hear in movies and television dramas.

"Ah—" Just before I could speak, he immediately cut me off.

"But before that, you have ah . . . something dripping in the corner of your mouth," he adds, pointing towards the edge of my lips.

I blinked, creasing my forehead. I am still dazed from the alcohol, and I can feel the heat rushing towards my head.

"No, it's on the other corner."

I started wiping off my face yet again. My knees were wobbling, my body swaying back and forth. One more move and I can easily become off balance.

"Are you alright?" I only stared at him for a few seconds before my eyes widened in shock. Fear crawls up my system, my feet almost frozen on the floor, and the color of my skin is turning as pale as a white cover sheet.

"Fuck!" I cuss and, in an instance, I fall down towards the inner part of my room.

My sudden demeanor startled the man, but I got up and slammed the door in his face.

I let out a deep sigh before wiping my face with my palm. "Damn it, why do I have to humiliate myself in front of someone else?" I whisper to myself.

After slamming the door on the man's face, I was just screaming, yelling like a lunatic. I know I've heard the man's voice from the other side, but I just couldn't think properly.

I don't even know how I get to bed with no puke on my clothes at all.

I get up from the floor, pick up the bag and the trash can, and head straight to the corner to clean off the counters in the kitchen. Leftover bottles were lying down on the floor, the stench of booze erupting through the four corners of the room and the crunches of chips just hanging on the couch.

"Looks like I have a lot of things to do," I murmured before starting to clean up. It has been a week since a woman named Bright offered me to stay here in this condominium for free. However, in exchange for the too-good-to-be-true offer, I have to work as a housekeeper and keep the place clean.

Truthfully, it was not much of a big deal. I am used to this sort of chore since I grew up in a province where my parents taught me all the things I needed.

However, until now, I have still been perplexed by her reason for offering me to stay here. It just seems like I am benefiting more than she does as the employer, and this is unusual, judging by the number of days I have stayed on the streets.

I wipe off the crisps across the glass-like table and then spray it with a spray cleaner.

Now that I've remembered her, it was also not too long ago when she bought me a phone. She said it will be useful because she'll be able to reach me through calls and text.

Oddly enough, just as I remembered my employer's name, I felt a slight vibration in my pocket.

It was a call from Bright.

"Good morning, how's it going there?" the woman immediately asked on the other side of the call.

"Everything is good, Ma'am Bright. I'm currently cleaning up the whole place," I reply, and then continue to wipe off the surface of the other kitchen counter.

"That's good to know!" she exclaims in a cheerful tone. "Anyway, I'll be visiting the condominium by pre-evening. It seems like my cousin has visited my place recently, and my mom wanted me to meet him just once."

I only nodded my head.

"Well, that's it! Thank you and keep up the great work," Bright adds before ending the call.

I put my cellphone back in my pocket and then continued with my work. The room was a lavish beauty, filled with luxurious furnishings. Just with one look, you can easily tell that only the rich can afford the place.

The walls are painted sky blue; the floor tiles are made of marble. Hanging in the center of the living room is a painting of a black and white abstract, and the sofa was as soft as the bed's fabric, shaped into an L. Above all, what was sitting in front of the couch was a hundred-inch flat screen television, currently flashing a movie called Mean Girls.

After I've finished in the living room and kitchen area, I started arranging the bedroom and dusting the master's bed. If Ma'am Bright says she's coming to visit in the pre-evening, then it means she will have her sleep here.

That also means I have to prepare everything from dinner to her bath to organize her stuff.

I stretched my arms into the thin air and let out a deep sigh once I put the pail full of water and detergent on the floor.

A few hours have gone by since I've cleaned up the whole place, and the only thing that's left is for me to have my brunch.

The cookies I had received from earlier this morning were now cold and somewhat hard. However, it does not stop me from munching it. This is probably my first time in a long while I have eaten this sort of dessert, and I feel like I might get addicted to its sweetness.

I bit my lip. Damn, I can't get used to this. Despite all the good luck I have right now, who knows when I'll run out and get kicked out of this good-to-be-true dream?

It's not like even if I have all this luxury to myself temporarily, I will be as happy as I was when I was with my family.

A tear escapes my eye and falls down towards my cheek. The sudden feeling of loneliness creeps up and embraces me from within, and in an instance, I was in an overwhelming state of crumbling yet again.

"Fuck life," I say again, slumping to the ground like a ragged doll who has yet to be born.

When will this nightmare end?