Alicarde watched the young girl. She was an adorable little girl with dark hair cascading in soft waves around her shoulders and vivid green eyes that sparkled with life. She looked about ten years old, her small frame dressed in a simple dress. Her eyes showed signs of cunning and mischief.
She kept yelling at the little boy with dark hair and brown eyes, who was obviously her little brother.
"Ali, stop ying with a ser ball in the living room! Stop! You''ll break something, and Mom is going to be so mad when she gets back," she warned, her voice a mix of worry and irritation.
The little boy, Ali, seemed equally irritated. "Shut up, Sarah, and mind your own business," he snapped back, kicking the ball with even more vigor. "It''s not like I''m going to break anything."
"Yes, you will!" Sarah insisted. "Rememberst time? You broke Mom''s favorite vase, and we all got in trouble!"
"That was an ident," Ali retorted. "It won''t happen again."
"It better not," Sarah said, folding her arms. "Because if you break something, I am so going to rat you out to Mom."
"Traitor... I''m your only brother," the boy seemed indignant.
"So what? You never listen to anything I say," the girl replied angrily.
They went back and forth for a few more minutes, Ali stubbornly refusing to stop despite Sarah''s warnings.
"I''ll be careful," he kept saying. "Just leave me alone."
Sarah sighed in exasperation. "Fine, but when you break something, don''te crying to me," she said, turning on her heel and leaving him standing in the living room, sulking.
She sat on a sofa next to another little girl. Alicarde looked at the second girl, his mind in tatters yet recognizing the little five-year-old as La. She was adorable, with dark hair and brown eyes, quietly ying with a sketchbook and paying no mind to her arguing older siblings.
Alicarde was in so much agony, yet he silently watched the siblings, wondering about them. Who were they? His mind wavered between pain and rity. The scene before him was both familiar and distant, like a half-remembered dream—one instant he knew them all too well, and the next, he was lost on who they were.
Not long after, he heard the sound of ss breaking. He turned around to find that the ser ball had shattered one of the house''s decorations.
Sarah''s face lit up with a triumphant smile. "You finally did it, didn''t you? I am so going to tell Mom, in detail, how you didn''t listen to your big sister," she said, her tone gleeful at her brother''s misfortune.
Ali''s face went through multiple shades of fear, and then he gestured for Sarah toe closer. She walked over, her expression smug.
"So, what do you want this big sis for, little Ali who stupidly disobeyed his big sis?" she asked, hands on her hips.
Ali forced a smile. "Say, big sis, best big sis in the world, won''t you help a little brother out?" he pleaded, his voice dripping with false sweetness.
Sarah looked at him, thinking her brother had no shame. Her expression remained indifferent, her eyes gloating at her brother''s sycophant attitude.
"So, sis, you have to help a little brother out, and I''ll give you two weeks'' worth of my allowance. What do you say?" he offered.
She smiled. "Hmm, not gonna do. I have to be paid some special fees—emotional and psychological trauma from having to deal with you, and my voice is kinda sore from trying to tell you to stop. All in all, your billes down to three weeks. Pay up."
Ali twitched a bit, then reluctantly agreed. "Fine, three weeks. Shall we have it on paper?"
"Don''t you trust your big sis, Ali? I would never betray you," the girl said.
The boy was having none of it. "Actually, you will."
She smiled. "Fine, you win. Huh, so little trust in your sister... your blood sister."
"Just get the paper already, I don''t have all day," the boy said.
Sarah nodded. They went back to the sketchbook La was ying with, took it from her, and tore out an empty page, earning themselves her ire and some cold words.
"Hey! That''s my sketchbook!" La protested. "You can''t just take my stuff like that!"
"Shut up. We''ll get you another one," Sarah said dismissively. "This is important."
They used one of La''s sketching pencils to draw up a childish contract, which they both signed. Seeing the agreement on paper, young Ali smiled.
"You know, sis, I would have been willing to pay five weeks," he jeered.
Sarah smirked. "I would have done it for three days'' worth of your allowance. Who''s stupid now?"
Ali scowled. "Touché, sis... touché."
They moved to another corner of the house, Ali on edge. "What''s the n? I am literally selling my liberties to you, you kitchen wench."
His sister took no offense. She smiled, turning to their little sister in the distance, ying with her sketchbook.
"In life, baby brother, you need a scapegoat, a sacrificial offering to appease the ire of our mama. In dark times, someone must step up," Sarah said with mock sadness.
"Wow, really? You would sacrifice yourself for me?" Ali said, moved by his sister''s words.
"Me? No, goodness no. Who else would we use but our dear La? She can take the fall, and I would be a few dinars richer," Sarah continued, surprised he would even think that.
Sarah smiled adorably. Ali looked at her, appalled.
"You would use our dear little sister as a scapegoat for something I did? You have no fear of God in you. I am so appalled that you could be so heartless for money," he said, sounding indignant.
He put his fingers together and smiled nefariously.
"Morally speaking, you are devastating," Ali continued.
"The word is disgusting, genius," Sarah corrected.
"Right, sorry about that... where was I? Oh, right. Personally, I like it. A pleasure working with you," Ali said with a smile.
Alicarde watched the two siblings plotting with a tender smile on his face. Their little sister was quite oblivious to their scheme.
As he watched, a wave of pain hit him. His body was engulfed in infernal purple mes as ck smoke emerged from his body. The space began to crack and break as the voices of the three siblings echoed out. Violet mes engulfed everything, and Alicarde sank into a deeper part of his mind.
A new memory surfaced. It was a house in a quiet neighborhood. Alicarde recognized the windows. He recalled what happened after their mother had returned. She had asked who broke the decor. Ali and Sarah had tried to frame La, but the little vixen had presented a solid argument, leaving their mother at a loss for words.
She had suspected Ali, yet no one hade clean, so she scolded all three of them, and it ended there.
Alicarde smiled as he reminisced about the days now gone, the pain of the mes now seeming as distant as his memories—just a fleeting illusion.
''Those were simpler times,'' he thought. ''Times when the biggest worry was avoiding Mom''s wrath.''
This memory was of his grandmother''s residence, a ce adorned with religious artifacts from different faiths. He noticed a boy tussling with an olddy, trying to snatch her purse in her own living room.
"Grandma, stop being stingy and just give me a few dinars. Sarah scammed me out of all my money. Come on, old hag," the boy whined.
The old woman seemed indignant. "Old hag, huh? I''ll have you know, little brat, in my prime I was stunning. When you be old yourself, your grandkids will tell you how uncute you are."
The boyughed. "That''s right, I''m cute, so give me all your money."
"Never," the old woman replied with yful defiance.
The door burst open as a young girl with pink hair entered. The boy paled at the sight of her and tried to run, but the pink-haired girl gave chase across the house.
Alicarde watched their exchange with a smile. He remembered the girl—his cousin. In this ce, all his memories seemed so vivid. Once again, a violet spark created mes as he was engulfed along with the memory.
The pain came again, and he burned as the ck smoke left his body, floating as a dark cloud above him.
"Guess I won''t get a chance to be an uncute old man now, Grandma. And I won''t be seeing Aisha again either," Alicardemented as he sank deeper into the sea of his memories.
The scene shifted to his high school. He was among a circle of guys in the school hall, their faces blurred. They were recounting stories of their teenage exploits with girls. Alicarde couldn''t remember any of their names or faces, the assault on his mind was finally taking its toll.
"Bro, you won''t believe how many rounds I went. I was a real beast," the first boy bragged.
"After what you did to get there, I think you recovered some aura points. The Rizz points you lost had been regained," young Aliughed.
The boys'' conversations turned vulgar. "Man, she couldn''t get enough," one boasted. "I''ve got her hooked."
Another chimed in, "Yeah, but did you see her friend? She''s even hotter."
A girl passed by, and Ali found himself staring. His friendsughed at him.
"Dude, I can''t believe you''re so into her. What happened to our Casanova?" one teased.
"I thought you only liked the hot ones with the fat tits. Why the interest in our resident cutie?" another added.
The teenage Ali shut them up. "Oh, go to hell, guys. This is love."
One of the guys ced a hand on his shoulder. "Should''ve said something sooner, ''cause we''re totally going out."
Ali''s heart sank. "So that''s how it is. Oh well, doesn''t matter now," he said, trying to sound nonchnt.
His friends were just trying to be supportive, but to the girls, they probably seemed like ssic assholes. His friend smiled. "Should I break up with her? Bros before hoes, you know."
Young Aliughed. "Nah, dude, I''d be over her in like a week."
Alicarde remembered he did get over her. He had told her how he felt, and her face turnedpletely red. Though he kept his best poker face, he distinctly remembered his legs trembling. That was his first love.
"That was your first love," a voice said from behind him.
"How pathetic. What a pathetic life you''ve lived," the voice continued.
Alicarde turned around to find the ck smoke had congealed into a familiar human silhouette—his own shadow.
"Who are you?" Alicarde asked.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
"It''s quite obvious if you weren''t so stupid. I am you," the shadow answered.
Before he could respond, the violet mes consumed him again, pulling him into the next memory. This one was of his grandmother''s death. While everyone cried, Ali felt nothing. He didn''t shed a single tear. He remembered his sisters and cousin crying their hearts out. All he could do was fake it to avoid standing out.
He had rubbed his eyes until they turned red, pretending to be overwhelmed with emotion, even though he felt sad. But why couldn''t he cry?
The ck smoke conjured itself into a mist-like figure. "Yes, that''s exactly how you felt about death," it taunted in a sinister voice.
"Not only are you pathetic, but you''re callous too. You don''t deserve to live. Why are you even struggling, you maniacal hypocrite?" the voice mocked.
Alicarde looked at the mist, which sounded exactly like him. "Who are you?" he asked, his mind unraveling.
The shadow moved closer. "Admit it. Admit how you really felt, you trash bastard."
Alicarde felt part of the mist flow into his body, breaking his mind further. His voice echoed out as he looked at his grandmother''s tombstone.
"You''re wrong. I wasn''t callous. I wasn''t indifferent. I just couldn''t cry. I tried, I really did, but the tears wouldn''te. I did care...
I did," Alicarde muttered, falling to his knees.
"Is that right?" the shadowughed as more of its foggy figure seeped into Alicarde.
His eyes grew cold as the ck mist consumed him. The mist floated away, leaving him as a lifeless corpse on the street. This memory was of the day he died—the day Ali Asad ceased to exist, and Alicarde Asad was born.