Fiction: Group 4
A scorching pain shot up my shoulder. Time slowed down as tears flooded my eyes and streamed
down my cheeks like beads falling off a broken necklace. I glanced down my arm. A gush of blood poured
out of a gory wound. I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out. My breaths came out in puffs
and hisses. I struggled to draw air into my lungs. My brain blocked out everything except the pain, the
excruciating, paralyzing pain. Black spots swam in my vision and my knees buckled.
“Maia! Good grief!” I vaguely felt Nathan caught me. “Maia! Can you hear me? Oh gosh…” I
floated in and out of consciousness but my mind lost the battle and I plunged into darkness.
***
My eyelids were as heavy as steel. I blinked groggily and found myself lying on my own bed. A
pale face with furrowed eyebrows was right above me.
Nathan began to gabble, “Maia, are you okay? Can you talk? Are you still dizzy? Do you need
some water? Do you—”
“Nathan,” I interrupted, “What happened?”
“Don’t you remember? Oh gosh, you aren’t having post-traumatic amnesia, are you? Do you
remember your own name? Do you—”
I caught at his sleeve. “Nathan, I’m fine. I don’t have memory loss, okay?”
He remained edgy. “Tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”
“Three. I really am fine.” I lied. My left forearm throbbed with pain. I tried to move it but winced.
“No, you’re not. You’re stabbed. The robber stabbed you with a knife.”
“So our food is gone?”
“The food doesn’t matter,” his voice faltered, “as long as you are safe.”
I exhaled slowly. “Look at what the world has become. Humans now hurt others to survive. I can’t
imagine how they can bring themselves to stab someone just for food.” I paused as a shudder swept over me,
“How do these people face themselves when they know they’ve done something so despicable?”
He sighed. “That’s why I’ve always hated the phrase “survival of the fittest”. People do anything to
survive.”
Survival of the fittest. Charles Darwin said it was a natural process. Only the fittest would survive in
this merciless world. Did it grant people the right to hurt others so as to become the fittest? Did it mean we
could discard morality when it came to survival?
“Humanity is cruel,” I mumbled.
Two weeks had passed before I could use my left arm again.
***
My mom had dark circles, a waxy, yellowish face and matted hair. Her condition had gotten
worse. She screeched and cried and clawed at the mattress. I could do nothing but embraced her and tried to
soothe her with reassuring whispers.
One day we heard groundbreaking news on the radio.
“Doctors have been receiving reports of people seeing purple and green patches in their field of
vision. After thorough investigation, it is discovered that the symptom is harmless and is a sign that their
brains are producing athopacine, a rare chemical that can be used to cure those who suffer from emotional
stability due to the atrocious air and water quality. A brain containing athopacine can cure up to 2000
patients with madness. The Central Government is persuading those with athopacine to donate their brains
to save those tormented by insanity…”
“My mom,” I gasped. For the first time in forever, a sudden surge of hope that my mom might
recover coursed through my veins.
“Maia, I don’t mean to disappoint you but do you think the people with athopacine will really
sacrifice their lives to save strangers?” Nathan sounded doubtful.
Snow now replaced the warmth in my veins. “They have to… please… my mom…” I stammered,
then groaned. People stabbed others to fight for their own lives, and now I expected them to sacrifice their
lives to save my mom? I felt like a deflated balloon, with air being sucked out of me until there was nothing
left.
***
We returned home after we went out for food. Nathan walked ahead of me as we walked towards
my mom’s bedroom.
He stopped so abruptly at the doorway of the room that I bumped into him. He stood frozen,
rooted to the ground like a statue. “Nathan?” I asked, startled.
