Chapter 1 (1/2)

#WhenTwent.i.triElebenStopped

“Perhaps a wrong move, but one must save the broken self.”

-x-

If given a chance to share an unforgettable memory, Jhing Blanco’s quivering lips will involuntarily tell a time: 23:11. To be honest, she doesn’t want to talk about anything related to things she needs to forget.

But heck.

How can she forget a time? Really.

She’s clearly nervous—her hands were trembling, just like her lips.

Two years ago, her first book was published. And in those years, she learned that acting confident is one of the rules to be followed in the ‘Art of Being an Author.’ Authors always need to face the crowd to promote themselves. And because Jhing wants to be an effective author of her own, she needs to promote herself.

But not like this.

She knows how much she hates the ‘spotlight,’ even if that spotlight was just a figurative speech…

Before.

Jhing recently found out that she also hates the spotlight literally. That light. It’s focusing on her. The spotlight that catches everyone’s attention.

All eyes are on her.

Waiting for her next… mistake.

Or not.

People just need to hear an answer, that’s all.

She’s kind of hoping for ‘looks can kill’ to turn real. Jhing wants to die. After all, death is better than being stared by countless of people.

The seat is comfortable, the aircon in the mall feels cool…. And yet, Jhing felt the heat.

Oohh, hot seat.

Tss.

“Jhing?” The host searched for Jhing’s eyes, worry etched on her face. “Are you reminiscing? Seems like our flashback takes a long while, ah?”

Alongside with Jhing’s co-authors who are lined up on her side on the panel, the audience laughed. She did too, yet she wanted to run. Or walk out. But then again, that would be rude.

There are already a lot of people who a.s.sumed that she has an ‘att.i.tude.’ Jhing needs to become a ‘proper idol’ to her fans, and she doesn’t want to add more adjectives that ‘so-called critics’ use against her.

But who can blame her, ah.

From the thousands and millions of questions around the whole wide world, of course, the host wants to know the author’s most unforgettable memory. She could’ve asked what love is. Or who their crush is!

That’s easier to answer than a question about a memory.

“Uhm. . .”

Jhing blinked, trying to get her s.h.i.+t together.

She quickly searched her brain about any unforgettable memories in her life.

But all she could think of was the familiar smirk plastered on that someone’s face, the laughing voice on the phone, boyish grin she saw once, childish emoticons, those stupid chats she needs to get over with, and that guy.

That.

Freaking.

Guy.

“When I was a child,” she gulped.

Why are the audience staring at her like that!?

“I was the top in my cla.s.s. I can’t ever forget that. We ate a special dinner for celebration. It was my, and my siblings, first time to eat lobsters. I can still remember the taste even now ah. So good.”

Well, true. She was top in her cla.s.s. Her Mom borrowed money from her friend for the celebration dinner. Everyone enjoyed the lobster.

But also a lie.

First: She doesn’t remember the taste nor what the lobster looked like. She was just 12 years old then. She’s already 23 now.

Second: Uh, nevermind.

The audience laughed as the host commented, “Hmm, it sounds delicious! I hope I can eat that lobster too, you should’ve invited me!”

Lame.

Jhing tried to laugh. Tried. It still looked forced no matter how she tries ah. Seems like it’ll be impossible for her to be an actress.

They finally changed the topic and scenarios. The host is already talking to a different author, but the first question stayed in her mind: Most unforgettable memory.

It was so unforgettable that every single day, she always think about it.

It was not really the greatest of memory.

For her, that is.

“Jhing?”

She was still in a daze.

Fortunately, Fall who’s beside Jhing smacked her back to reality.

The authors sitting in the panel went down for a break. While the good looking men dances on the stage and the women screams in excitement, the authors were briefed by the woman in charge: Mary Zue, publisher.

“Next part will be the question and answer portion with your readers,” Zue told the authors. “Then the signing begins. Ready?”

Before the authors went to the stage, Zue instructed them to, “Smile” so everyone did.

So did Jhing. She smiled, and the ‘I’m okay, let’s get this done’ façade was back again.

On the earlier stage of Q and A thing, the audience were shy.

There were people who urged other people to ask their question, there are those who doesn’t raise their own hands but instead raise the hands of the one sitting beside them, the rest will stand up… before sitting back down again.

Nothing happened even after a whole full minute has pa.s.sed.

Silent mutters. Some giggles. Small talks. Still, no one dared to ask anything to anyone. The host was about to do her job to end the dead air, when a pet.i.te lady raised her hand, waving.

Almost all pair of eyes in the activity area, and even those who doesn’t really know what kind of event is going on, focused on that girl at the corner.

“Yes, Ate! ” The host nodded at her before clicking sound of her heels were heard.

The girl looks dainty, but it also seems that she’s already in mid twenties. She’s wearing a long sleeves polo and jeans.

“What’s your question for the authors?”

One of the things Jhing is thankful for is her 20/20 vision. But at that moment, her perspective of being ‘thankful’ changed as she saw the look the girl gave her while asking, “Where do broken hearts go?”

And for some odd reason, whether it was the gaze or the question— Jhing tensed.

Fortunately, Jhing is sitting on the far left. Before her turn, the authors on her right side started answering the question one by one.

Their answers went from hilarious “The hospital.”

To serious “According to science…”

And sarcastic “It’s inside my heart, drinking coffee. Do you want to join?”

Until all people stared at Jhing, again, to hear her version of the answer.

‘No comment,’ was what she wanted to say, but the girl who asked the question is still looking and smiling at her.

Where do broken hearts go?

Then she asked herself…

Where’s your heart, Jhing?

So she came up with an answer. Straight from her heart.

“The thing is, no matter how much you want your broken heart to disappear… it will always stay there.”

That silenced almost everybody.

The others wasn’t listening so they asked, ‘What did she say?’ or a ‘Why did you turn silent? What? What was it?’

Most of them quickly tapped their fingers and posted the lines, quoting Jhing, that gained some likes, shares / retweets / regram and replies like “omg!”, “ouch ha,” and “#relate2damax!”

“Broken into pieces. Sharp, pointed edges trying to cut you from the inside.” Another smile, pulled up the ‘I’m still okay, guys’ façade.’

“Broken shards will pierce everything it touches. That’s why it hurts. That’s why n.o.body can tell you’re bleeding because your broken heart has no plan of going anywhere. It’s staying. Inside you. Inside us.”