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Alpha Beta Gamma Delta Epsilon Zeta, Sigma, Omega. |
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Alpha Beta Gamma Delta Epsilon Zeta, Sigma, Omega.
Mr. Thompson, a man in a black suit with a tape recorder in hand, sits down in front of me, placing the recorder on the table and pressing the red recorder button. He intertwines his fingers and opens his mouth: “So, Beta, picking up where we left off last time.”
“Yes, I apologize for last time.” I interrupted him “I’m swear it won’t happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t, you’re a very controlled young woman.” He begins “Now, could you maybe tell me a little bit more about your ‘family’?”
I nod. “Why, yes of course. Who do you want to know about?” I ask ever so politely and with a kind smile on my face.
“How about that kid, Sigma?” He asks. Sigma; the second youngest.
I smile as memories of Sigma come pouring in. “Sigma was so weird.” I chuckle a bit “He wasn’t like the rest of us. He likes laugh, he likes to play. Sigma didn’t like to follow orders, unless he had a good reason. He was because he always asked ‘why?’ We would always do what we were told without hesitation, but not him. If he didn’t have a good reason, he wouldn’t do it.” I say remembering his one-man strikes. “Sigma was the kind of kid who would always be happy.”
“Were you close to Sigma?” Mr. Thompson asked me.
I think about that. Was I close to sigma? “Yes, I think so.” I gave my uncertain answer. “Being Beta, I had many responsibilities, but we were always on good terms. I could always smile around Sigma.”
“I see.” Mr. Thompson, rubbed stubbly beard, and passed a hand through his balding head. “How about Alpha? Tell me more about him.”
I laugh a little bit “Alpha had a big ego. He thought just because he was the oldest he was better. Alpha had it in his head he was the leader, and he sort of was. Even though he was very egotistical he was good at leading us. Alpha had the problem of ownership” I giggle “anyone would give an idea and he’d claim it as his. He didn’t like listening to opinions, except Gamma’s. He’d only follow the commander’s orders and no one else’s.”
Mr. Thompson nodded. I wonder if he really understands a word I say. “Can you tell me about Gamma?” he asked.
I nodded with a smile “Of course. Gamma always had a book with him. He loved to read. I remember one day, no one could find him; he’d disappeared. The next day, when he was suddenly there, we asked him where he was and the only thing he said was: ‘I was reading.’” I stopped and smiled, thinking of what else I could say about my brother Gamma. “Gamma was the third of us. He was smart, very smart. He got along pretty well with Alpha. I think he had problems talking and that’s why he’s so quiet. I don’t remember talking to him much, but when we did it was really soft. I don’t remember if the reason I didn’t understand him was because he talked softly or because it was kind of gurgled. He also wears glasses. Physically he was a ‘failure’, but intellectually there was no match.” I said proudly. I looked down at the wooden table, wondering why I never spent more time getting to know Gamma better.
“Ok, let’s move on.” Mr. Thompson suggested, seeing my mood go down. “Tell me about Zeta.”
“Zeta!” I instantly returned to my good mood. “I remember Zeta! She always had a smile on her face! No matter what the circumstance, she smiled. I think it a facial defect but her tone of voice was always the same: happy. She’d smile whether it was baking cookies, or shooting someone square in the face.” I laughed loud. “She looked like a psychopath, smiling and killing at the same time!” I looked at Mr. Thompson; I could see he was getting uncomfortable. I was doing it again. I forced myself to stay serious pushing my deranged sister’s memory from my mind. “Can we move on?” I asked softly.
“Ok,” Mr. Thompson cleared his throat “How about… Epsilon?”
“Epsilon….” I repeated “He was the fifth, wasn’t he?” I was uncertain, why can I remember well? “I think he was the one with purple hair. If I remember right, Epsilon was the rebellious one. Well, rebellious to an extent, the real rebel was Sigma.” I chuckle, remembering Sigma. “Epsilon had a great admiration towards Gamma. The two of them were together most of the time. Epsilon would be kind of like Gamma’s voice. I remember the way Epsilon protected Gamma.” I pause, thinking of those times that their brotherhood and friendship looked like it was more than that. I wonder why I never noticed. I laugh remembering Delta “Poor Delta!”
“Mh?” Mr. Thompson looked at me confused, I suppose he was expecting me to talk about Epsilon some more.
“Delta, my sister.” I start explaining “Delta was always after Epsilon. She did all she could to get his attention. She’d get it most times, until Gamma arrives, that is.” I laugh, more controlled than before.
“But I thought, Epsilon and delta were siblings.” Mr. Thompson said.
“They are! But, I guess it’s true what I’ve read; Love strikes wherever and whoever” I giggle, trying to contain my laughter.
“What was Delta like?” Mr. Thompson asked.
“Delta was sweet, the nicest of us all. But don’t get me wrong she’d kill in a heartbeat. Delta liked to bake and cook, she was basically our house wife” I giggled remembering Delta in her apron, messy with ingredients and batter, her sky-blue hair half covered in flour, chasing after Sigma and Ome. “I don’t know what else I could say about her.” I tell Mr. Thompson truthfully. He nods.
“Who are we missing?” He asks himself and yawns into his hands. I steal a glance at his watch: 3:37 a.m. Why are we up so early, anyway? “Oh, yes! Omega, tell me about your brother Omega.
I feel a sharp feeling in my chest thinking about Omega. Nevertheless I answer: “Omega… is the youngest of us. The most innocent... He was a sweet little boy. He followed orders, very obedient. Sigma liked being around him because he was the youngest and wanted to make sure he wasn’t as blindly obedient as the rest of us.” I look down again, but I can’t seem to rest my eyes on a single spot. I look around the white-gray room I was in, at Mr. Thompson’s suit, at my own white dress, at my shackles…
“Are you feeling uncomfortable?” Mr. Thompson asked. “A little” I responded “But I can still answer your questions.”
I look at the tape recorder on the table and stare at its rotating tapes. Who uses tape recorders nowadays anyway?
“Ome, that’s what we called Omega, always wore the same light-blue sweater. He never took it off and he most always kept his hood up. I remember he was blonde, like Zeta.” I remember all of our hair colors: Alpha’s was dark red, same as mine only mine’s lighter; Gamma’s was dark-blue; Delta’s sky-blue; Epsilon’s violet; Zeta’s Blonde; Sigma’s was black and Ome’s Blonde. Our eyes varied in color as well. We weren’t exactly normal… Alpha’s eyes were red as dark as his hair. Mine are gold. Gamma’s were black or grey? I’m not sure. Delta’s were a darker blue than her hair. Epsilon’s were red too. Zeta’s were brown. Sigma’s was blue and Ome’s were green.
In my silence, Mr. Thompson reached out and placed his hand over my cuffed ones. “Are you ok?” he said gently. “Mh-hm” I nodded. “Just thinking…”
“Anything else comes to mind about Omega?” he asked me retrieving his hand.
“He has green eyes.” I said absently, there was something else about Ome, something that made my chest hurt. “I remember… something…”
“Yes?” Mr. Thompson inquired.
“Something about Ome.” What was it?! I balled my hands in frustration and rubbed my forehead with my palm, not unrolling my fingers. “What was it?” I whispered.
“Don’t push yourself. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Mr. Thompson stood “No!” I yelled out “I can do this! Just sit, please, I’ll remember soon.”
Mr. Thompson looked skeptical, but sat anyway, looking worriedly at one particular wall, the one I guessed, is the one with the glass wall that doesn’t let me see who’s on the other side.
“Omega did something. I remember that much. It was something important. I know it was all Alpha’s fault but I…!” I remembered. I remembered what Omega did, why it was important. It wasn’t just Alpha’s fault; it was all of ours… What happened? What went wrong?
The pain in my chest was too much, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I clutched my chest and doubled over on the chair, I felt myself fall on the floor. I could sense Mr. Thompson next to me; I closed my eyes as tight as I could, as if that would stop the pain from entering my body. I curled up on the floor and began to sob. I heard Mr. Thompson faintly yell out for a medic, the doctor that was there that day it happened. What was his name?
I heard very faint footsteps enter the small white room, and I fell into the darkness…
 Raia Arimary · Tue Nov 09, 2010 @ 01:07am · 2 Comments |
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