Raf Hua

*Inhale…exhale. Inhale…exhale. Breathe.*
*I push my legs to run*
as fast as they could. A big lump in my throat is starting to form, and I’m
beginning to cry. I can’t let this happen. I can never let it happen.

I
frantically wipe the tears from my eyes with my sleeve. “Fucking run faster,
dammit!” I scold myself. Weaving through the many long hallways and climbing
the steep staircases, I finally got there.

I
slam the door open. A hundred eyes darted their attention to me.

“Hah…h-h…I…I…ex-xcuse
me…c-can I…” I loudly said, whilst gasping for air. I did it. I let it happen.

I
failed.

“C-can
I…come in?” I finish, choking at my words.

“I
don’t know know, can you?” Mr. Santos replied.

The
class giggled at his response. He grinned, too. I clench the straps of my backpack
with one hand, and wiping my face with the other. I’m ashamed.

“Hey,
it’s okay, Raf. The bell didn’t ring yet. It’s only 7:29,” he continued. “Come
inside. You’re not late. Yet.”

Shaking,
I nodded, and went to my seat. A few friends scooted beside me and patted my
back.

“Relax
dude, you’re fine. Also, will you ever take off that jacket? It’s so hot!” my
best friend, Eris, joked.

“Nah,
it’s fine. I’d rather keep it on,” I reply. She shrugged.

And
then the bell rang.

►▪◄

You
may be asking yourself, who am I, and what the hell happened? Allow me to
introduce myself. The name’s Raphaela Hua, just call me Raf. My namesake may be
one of God’s three archangels but let’s be real here: I’m more like the devil
himself. I’m fourteen years old, still a student. Perfectionist in anything
school-related…? Part-time serial killer?!

Despite
the burning heat in everyday life, I put on a jacket. Is it a fashion
statement? Kids in school hate me because they say they feel hot seeing me with
sleeves on hot days. “You’re just trying to look cute,” they say. But really,
they’re missing the point.

*This is why parents say that you*
should never leave your children unattended in the kitchen*.*

So
what’s the deal?

*As a little girl, I loved watching my*
mother slice and dice the ingredients for dinner. The way the knife glistens as
it slices the vegetables into chunks fascinated me. Shimmering steel looked so
beautiful…I wanted to touch it.

*And so, I did.*

*One evening, standing on my tippy-toes,*
I reached for the hilt of the prettiest knife in the kitchen. It was finally in
my hands, the most beautiful thing on earth. That wasn’t enough though; I
wanted to cut something.

*Let’s just say we didn’t have any*
vegetables that evening. And for some reason, mom wasn’t breathing anymore..?
She had ketchup all over herself. Weirdly enough, I had some on my hands and
clothes too.

*And the knife looked prettier in*
ketchup.

*The next morning, mom was gone? And I*
woke up in a different bed. Two people introduced themselves to me; Soda and
Burf. They said they will be looking after me from then on. And so they did*.* She
was my standing mother, and he was my brother. That’s neat! I have a brother
now!

They told me I was really good with knives. So
they said they will give me more pretty knives under one condition: I should
cover some people with ketchup.

I
love knives, I really do. And I love them being decorated with crimson liquid.
So I do them those favors and I collect more knives as I go. Sometimes, I get
ketchup on my skin too. They told me that I must never let other people to see
the “wounds” because they’ll place me far away from them. They’ll place me away
from my home.

I
learned over the years what I really was doing. What that “ketchup” was. Funnily
enough, even though I knew it was murder, I didn’t care. The knives were pretty
with blood.

I
should really start being careful. It’s so hot.