VESSELS: Crush, Crush, Crush

  During my senior year of high school, I developed my first crush. Getting into a prestigious school was everything to me, so I blindly worked hard to get good grades. Unsurprisingly, my grades never missed a beat, my teachers loved me, and my peers looked up to me. Studying was everything to me; I’d come home straight after school to study; I spent quiet nights doing homework, rainy evenings drowned in books, and sunny weekends cooped up in my own room, completing mock test questions that I no longer remember the answers to.

  At school, however, I still had time to socialize. I wasn’t a robot; I still craved feelings of a normal teenage life, like laughing with friends, gossiping, and falling in love. One time, everyone in my small circle of friends happened to be absent, so I decided to have lunch alone outside and sat on a bench that was placed in the shade of an old tree.

  A stranger suddenly approached me and asked if he could take a photo of me for the school yearbook. I recognized him from my own class; he was timid and reserved, and I saw parts of myself in him. I agreed to his request, and he raised the large camera that had been dangling heavily from his neck and snapped a quick photo. The flash made me close my eyes, and a sudden breeze turned my hair into a mess, so I asked for a retake, but he simply smiled and called me beautiful while proudly staring at the picture in his camera. A stranger turned into a crush.

  After that day, we’d spend our free time at school chatting to one another and sharing stories about ourselves. He was part of the photography club, and each day after school we’d say our goodbyes as I went home first while he stayed back.

  Before spring break, I mustered up the courage to present him with a carefully handwritten love letter, but when I walked up to his locker, I found him decorating the interior of the door with a Polaroid of himself and another woman who was affectionately kissing him on the cheek. I recognized that she was from the photography club as well, and I crumpled the letter and threw it in the first trash can I could find. I stopped talking to him after that day.

  Depression struck me at an unfortunate time; how could I have been so gullible? I lived my life pretending that parts of the world would stand still just for me and would only resume once I interacted back with it. It had never occurred to me that he had more in life than school and his own home, that he had more in life than what I had. I ended up being more disappointed in my own shallow thinking than I was in losing him.

  The final straw was when I received a copy of the yearbook. I frantically flipped through the pages to find the picture he had taken of me that day. Eventually, I found the photo of myself; my eyes were closed, and the wind blew on my hair, revealing my small forehead. I looked as ugly as I thought I did back then. The caption underneath simply read “a first crush," and I burst into tears.

  My grades took a nosedive, and I failed to get into my dream school. I ended up at Styx River after applying to a bunch of colleges on a whim. How did I end up this way? I often asked myself. I worked so hard, and one misstep was all it took for everything to come crashing down.

  I made a promise to myself to never repeat what had happened. I became active again and studied hard, I decided to join clubs and organizations, I took part in group projects and volunteered in events. I slowly got back into my old self, and more.

  Halfway through the year, I was in charge of managing a concert on campus. It was a battle of the bands, where students could show off their musical talent. I was never one to be moved much by music, and I found most of the performances to be boring and talentless, until she appeared on stage.

  She went up on stage alone with an electric guitar in hand and a pedal. Her appearance was wild and free; she had an uneven bob and fiery red highlights. Her steel-capped black boots matched her dark leather jacket and red plaid skirt. “Are you ready, Styx River?! We are: Hayley and the Ghoul Party!” she yelled out, even though she was standing alone. She strummed on her guitar and stepped on the pedals at the same time, revealing the loud and blaring backing instrumentals. The crowd roared in excitement, and it felt like the whole building was about to collapse. My heart started to beat faster, and it was as if life had been injected straight into my veins.

  During my first year of college, I developed my second crush.

  “What a horrible dream..." Rita mumbled to herself upon being awoken by the sound of a strange explosion. She quickly came to her senses and realized that she was still stuck on the 4th floor of the anthropology building. She hid under the table for a while, but decided to steel herself and make her way onto the door handle.

  The handle was hot, but it had cooled down just enough for her to still hold onto. She turned the handle and took a small peek outside, revealing the entire hallway was burnt pitch black. A burnt smell still lingered, and the temperature felt hot but manageable.

  She took a step outside and walked to the end of the hallway, where she heard faint, rapid footsteps approaching her from a distance. Although she was afraid, she still made the decision to slowly poke her head around the corner to take a look.

  Two figures could be seen running desperately down the hallway at an incredible pace. “Outta the way!” Isaac yelled out, but before Rita could react, all three had crashed into each other and ended up entangled on the ground.

  “Ughhh…” Bel moaned as he got up, feeling dazed. He saw Rita and immediately recognized who she was. “Hey, it’s the nerdy girl from orientation,” he pointed at her.

  “Wha– who are you calling a nerd, you little–”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Who are YOU calling LITTLE you–”

  “Will you two please shut up?! We’ve got bigger things to worry about here.” Isaac interrupted. He recognized that they were back at the hallway where they first encountered the charred P.W., “Looks like we ended up back here. This isn’t good; there’s no way that P.W. we saw is also responsible for switching around the contents of the floor. The abilities just don’t match up; that kind of firepower and utility can’t be coming from the same P.W.”

  “P.W.?” Rita asked.

  “Wait, what are you even doing here?” Bel ignored her question.

  “Well, I, uh, wanted to deliver something to the Occult Club, but when I went to the designated room listed down in the registry, I couldn’t find you. Then, I saw you with that tanned blond guy, and I knew that he was a member of the Occult Club, so I followed both of you to the anthropology building and found out you were going to the 4th floor, and before I knew it—”

  “Enough,” Isaac said, clearly annoyed with her mumbling, “It doesn’t matter how you got here; bystanders get roped in all the time; it’s part of the job. But the situation’s changed now.” Isaac walked over to the door and disappeared through it. Rita’s jaw dropped, and she could not articulate any questions about what she had just witnessed. After a few seconds, Isaac walked back out.

  “Bad news, Hayley’s not in there.” There was the slightest inflection of worry in his tone. “If my theory so far is correct, she could be stuck in a hall without any doors to go back to the Antique Room through. We can’t leave without her; her ability isn’t suited for combat.” He turned her head to Rita. “Also, with her here, at least one of us is going to be left behind; the Antique Room only accepts visitors who have the pin; no exceptions.”

  Isaac thought silently for a while; his posture and expression were too intense for Bel and Rita to interrupt. “Alright, here's what's gonna happen. Bel, you go back to the Antique Room, and I’ll give her my pin. I’ll have to stay behind and get rid of the P.W.s myself. If I’m successful, the 4th floor should go back to normal.”

  “If you’re successful? Stop joking around; there’s no way I’m leaving you behind!” Bel objected.

  “Bel! You’re not in charge here; I am! So you better"—before Isaac could finish his sentence, the door disappeared behind him, and there was no way of escaping to the Antique Room.

  “FUCK!” Isaac shouted out in frustration at Bel, “Now she can’t get back because you just wouldn’t listen!” Bel looked horrified; he hadn’t considered how precious time was in the situation they were in. He then realized that if anything happened to Rita during the mission, it’d be solely on him.

  “Stop it!” Rita cried out, “What makes you two think I’ll just follow whatever you say?! If Hayley’s really stuck here, then I’m not leaving.”

  The two looked puzzled at Rita’s declaration. They both understood that there was no convincing someone of Rita’s character and decided to let her join as they wandered through the endless halls of the floor. ?

  “So, are you and Lee friends?” Bel asked Rita, trying to break the ice with her.

  “No, we’ve never met.” She sighed, sounding defeated.

  “Then why are you risking your life to look for her?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? She’s a groupie.” Isaac mockingly implied.

  "Oh, shut up! You don’t know the first thing about me!” she clapped back. A long silence followed afterwards, but eventually she continued, “She’s just someone I look up to, and I didn’t want to live a passive life anymore.” Her words echoed through Bel. In a way, he related to her feelings of regret for living life so passively.

  In the middle of their conversation, Isaac suddenly motioned for them to stop. The scene was all too familiar for Bel, but this time, both he and Isaac were prepared. Isaac swiftly pulled out a white marker and drew a symbol on his hand, while Bel pulled Rita behind him and crouched defensively behind the corner, gripping his katana.

  At the other end of the hall around the corner, the charred P.W. stood ominously. It glared at the three of them and prepared to launch another blast. As the fire exited from its mouth, barrelling straight at them, Isaac spread his feet apart, pulled both of his arms back, open-palmed, and pushed out a wave of flames, neutralizing the effect.

  He had a crazed grin plastered on his face, and Bel started to grow afraid of him. Bel knew that Isaac had control of more elements than just fire and specifically remembered him mentioning water being one of them.

  “Hey, did you fail science class or something? Wouldn’t water be the better option here?” he worriedly asked Isaac.

  “There’s one thing you need to know about me, and only one thing alone, so remember it well. No one beats me at my own game!” Isaac confidently declared.

  This guy’s a total psycho! Bel thought to himself. The pragmatic image of Isaac Bel had in his mind shattered to a million pieces. Isaac was the type of person to overlevel his character instead of finding counters against a boss in a video game. He was type to, even if he knew how to read minds, pick the same move as the opponent in a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors and still end up winning.

  Isaac and the charred P.W. continued to exchange a series of fireballs, each one being neutralized by the other. Rita cowered behind Bel around the corner. They had previously established to stay close to each other even when under attack, because if they ever found themselves separated from Isaac, they would be completely defenseless.

  Bel felt utterly useless in the situation they were in. He was too afraid to walk into the firefight, and he didn’t want to risk being separated by finding a path around to attack the charred figure from behind. He closed his eyes in frustration and pictured hard about scenarios where he could help.

  By this point, Isaac was sweating; the heat was starting to turn up, and he was almost at his limit, but he didn’t want to admit it himself. Bel realized this, of course, and he looked at the chaos and realized Isaac was mostly on the defense. He only shot his fireballs after the charred P.W. to counter its attacks and was unable to find an ample opportunity to shoot one aimed straight at it.

  Bel focused hard; he saw three fireballs shot in succession by the charred P.W. He imagined himself running past Isaac, countering the fireballs with his sheathed katana. Before he knew it, a blue figure of himself jumped out of his body and dashed right at the three fireballs, neutralizing all of them, before disappearing into thin air.

  The fireballs thrown by Isaac to counter now had nothing in their path besides the charred P.W. All three balls of fire landed, and the impact slammed their target back into the wall behind it. The charred P.W. itself seemed like it could still get hurt by fire, and it let out a wail of pain before running away.