Pencils & Polaroids

09: passing the power

It is said that at the time of death, seven minutes of brain activity persist where the brain plays the life memories of that person as a dream sequence. Imagine the amount of happiness, pain, and guilt that we all need to go through before we're shut for good. There might be memories we'd never want to revisit, moments we regret, and events that we fear, but our own mind shows it all.

As I stare at the clock striking five in the evening, I feel my last seven minutes of life begin to play inside my head. Losing my post as the manager and having to hand over the binder to my arch-nemesis, I hate the sequence of memories in my mind. I'm not happy anymore. Torturing him and exercising power was all fun but now that the end is nearing, I know I'm up for my share of torture. 

The moments of making him my lapdog, ordering him around, watching the sight of him bringing me coffee and addressing me as 'ma'am', doing all my work, and best of all, not saying no to me, it has truly been the lifetime of an experience. 

But sadly, everything is going to change in a few minutes. These are my moments of regret because now that I know what I'm up for, I wish I'd done things differently. I regret torturing him to this extent. I hope I'd kept him far away from me because then, he might have returned the favor. We could've both benefited. That would've been such a smart and mature move. 

Not as great as having him bowing and waiting on me at every snack break. But definitely good enough to make the last seven minutes of my post-ending look like a magnificent one. 

As I walk towards the House Captains' Commonroom, I clutch the black binder tightly against my chest. Mocking eyes of volunteers and Cross students who stayed back to help shadow my every step, ready to witness the change in authority. Their merciless smirks tell me they're more than happy to see their hero holding the batten after he's been tortured for three days on the battlefield. I have a feeling they'll like watching him torture me in return.

Who am I kidding? They'll grab popcorn and blankets, cuddle in the cozy common room and take the front-row seats to watch Rainer Barcross torture me. He'll even have cheering if I'm not wrong. 

"Park?" Someone from the earnest-looking student body lineup yells as I push the heavy common room door open. "Prepare for the worst." 

I click my tongue. "Gosh, is that what your dad told your mom before--" 

I don't even get to finish my quick-thought reply when Charlie comes hurling towards me. I barge through the common room door when I sense him and Grayson on my tail. Before his huge claws touch me, I sprint towards the other end of the room right next to you-know-who. 

His relaxed posture leaning against the desk flipping through the purple student-body file whilst chewing on the ends of a dark blue pencil is alarmed by my chaotic entry followed by two of his friends--one looking very annoyed and the other extremely fed up. 

"If you as much as finish that sentence, Mellon--" Charlie gnarls like a werewolf. 

If he hoped for it to be scary, he didn't do a very good job. Picture a boy with military-cut hair frowning beyond the ability of human facial features trying to gnarl like a wolf. Yes, it seems more cringing than frightening.

So, just to piss him off, I blurt the sentence he told me not to finish. "Is that what your dad told your mom before-you-came-out?" Now, he calms down. "I'm not one of you, Brown. I won't stoop so low." I just get on your nerves and party on them. 

"Whatever," Charlie says adjusting his uniform shirt. "Don't insult my parents." 

I roll my eyes and take a step forward because his lack of IQ doesn't make him look daunting anymore. "The insult was for you, you fool."