ZEN
Noah's dead.
The rain poured heavily as Noah's coffin was lowered into the grave. Each raindrop seemed to echo the finality of his departure. I watched him descend, but I felt no sadness, no remorse. Gently, I touched the scar on the side of my forehead, a lasting reminder of his cruelty.
He was... a violent child.
I glanced at Aunt Sarisa, her face etched with sorrow and pain, her eyes red from crying. She stood a few steps away, clutching a sodden handkerchief.
But does it make me a bad person for not feeling sorry about Noah's death?
I am just a kid. Does that make me bad?
I looked up at the woman holding the umbrella over me. She looked lifeless, devoid of emotion, mirroring the emptiness I felt. Like me, the other people and classmates of Noah were all dressed in black, their faces somber but their eyes dry.
Yet none of us seemed to mourn. Except for Noah's mother, the woman who adopted and sheltered me, Aunt Sarisa. Now, the woman beside me would become my new guardian. It was legal, and my last name would change.
My eyes met Aunt Sarisa's. She gave me a sad smile, her lips trembling as she tried to maintain her composure.
I looked back at the coffin now resting at the bottom of the grave. The soil was soaked, water streaming down into the hole, turning the dirt into mud. The wooden box looked out of place, stark against the dark earth.
I never thought I would feel happiness over someone's death.
I am just twelve. Does that really make me a bad person?
I glanced at Aunt Sarisa once more.
Her sadness seemed to have lifted. Our eyes met again, and I watched as she walked towards me, her black dress billowing in the wind like a shadow. I looked up at her, and she gave me a gentle smile, her eyes soft despite the grief.
"Teacher Sarah is adopting you now. Be a good girl, okay?" Her voice was soft, a whisper that barely reached my ears over the sound of the rain. I had never heard her raise her voice, not even to Noah. I nodded. Holding her umbrella, she bent down slightly to my level. "You can always come back, Zen..." She looked at the house opposite us, the house where I had lived with them. And right across from it, Noah was being buried.
He is gone now.
And I... we, the students, the teachers... believe...
That his death is a good thing.
That the Dela Cruz bloodline ends here.
Noah was the last, they said. His death is a blessing, they said.
And yes... I think... it truly is a blessing.
*****
The rain continued to pour, a constant reminder of the somber occasion. The gray sky matched the mood of the day, but beneath the surface, emotions were more complex. For most of us, Noah's death felt like a release, a heavy burden lifted.
Noah had been a tyrant among us, his violent tendencies creating a climate of fear and oppression. We were all just children, but his actions had left scars, both visible and hidden. I remembered the numerous times I had seen him hurt others, his twisted smile, the malice in his eyes.
Aunt Sarisa had tried to love him, to guide him, but even she couldn't reach the darkness within him. And now, as she stood by his grave, her eyes dry but her heart undoubtedly heavy, I wondered if she felt relief mixed with her grief. She had done her best, but sometimes love isn't enough to change a person.
The woman beside me, Teacher Sarah, had always been kind. She was my new guardian, a fresh start. I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, with her, I could leave the shadows of the past behind. I glanced at her, seeking reassurance, and she gave me a small, encouraging nod.
"Life will be different now," she whispered, almost to herself.
I believed her. Noah's death marked the end of an era of fear. For the first time, I felt a sense of peace, a future that wasn't clouded by dread. We could move forward, heal, and maybe even find happiness.
As the rain continued to fall, it felt like a cleansing, washing away the pain and fear that had gripped us for so long. The future was uncertain, but it was a future without Noah, and that was a start.
We stood there, the small group of us, as the ceremony drew to a close. One by one, people began to leave, their umbrellas dotting the cemetery like black mushrooms. I stayed a little longer, watching the rain fill the grave, thinking about what lay ahead.
"Come on, Zen," Teacher Sarah said gently, "let's go home."
Home. The word felt new, filled with possibilities. I took her hand, and we walked away from the past, into a future that, for the first time, felt bright and open. The Dela Cruz legacy had ended, but a new chapter of my life was just beginning.
As we walked, the raindrops pattered on the umbrella, creating a rhythmic sound that was strangely comforting. I looked back one last time at the grave, now almost hidden by the downpour. It was a final farewell to the darkness that had overshadowed my childhood. I squeezed Teacher Sarah's hand, feeling a sense of solidarity and warmth from her.
"Do you think things will really get better?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the rain.
"I do," she replied firmly, her eyes shining with conviction. "We have each other, and we will make sure of it."
Her words were a beacon of hope, cutting through the lingering gloom. With each step we took away from the cemetery, I felt lighter, as if the weight of the past was slowly lifting off my shoulders.
We reached her car, and as we got in, she turned on the heater, wrapping me in a cocoon of warmth. It was a stark contrast to the cold and wetness outside, and it felt like a metaphor for my new life—a life where I would be surrounded by care and kindness.
As we drove away, I watched the rain-slicked streets pass by, each drop of water reflecting a fragment of my past. But instead of clinging to those memories, I let them dissolve into the rain, leaving them behind.
"Zen," Teacher Sarah said, breaking the silence, "you are not defined by where you came from. You are defined by who you choose to be."
Her words resonated deeply within me. I realized that I had the power to shape my own future, to break free from the shadows of Noah's influence. I looked forward to the days ahead, determined to embrace the opportunities that awaited me.
As we pulled into the driveway of Teacher Sarah's house, a sense of belonging washed over me. This place, with its warm lights and inviting atmosphere, was my new home. I stepped out of the car, feeling the ground solid beneath my feet, and knew that this was the beginning of a new journey.
Inside, Teacher Sarah handed me a towel to dry off. "Welcome home, Zen," she said with a smile.
"Thank you," I replied, feeling a genuine smile spread across my face for the first time in what seemed like forever.
The past was behind me, and the future was a blank canvas. And with Teacher Sarah by my side, I was ready to paint a brighter, kinder picture for myself.
*****