As Above So Below

I yawned. What was that noise? Music? From where? From my sister's room?

Knock, knock.

"Hey! Turn it down. I'm sleeping."

"No," my sister said.

"What? Do you want me to hit you again?"

"Try me. Can you?"

What? Why was she talking like that?

"Open the door now!"

"Never. I hope you die!"

"I'll kill you! Open the door!"

Bang. Bang.

Why was she so rebellious today? She was scared last night. Now she was acting different.

Something dripped onto my shoulder. Water.

What? Why was water leaking from the roof too? What was going on? My house never leaked. I looked up. A dark stain was spreading across the ceiling, and the drops were falling faster. Outside, it was raining.

I heard another noise from the kitchen. I hurried downstairs to see, and it was the people in colors. My relatives.

"What? Why are you all in my home? Get out, now!"

"We came to pray to the statue, Wathone," a cousin said.

"Yes, Wathone," Grandma said. "We need the statue's help."

"How do you know about it?"

"We have been giving our savings too, Wathone," Grandma said. "Because your cousins and your relatives need to be taken care of."

"Get out now! Guards! Get them out!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Why did you let them in? Are you stupid?"

"Sir, I didn't see them."

"Well, get them out now!"

"Yes, sir."

My guard didn't seem to want to follow my order. He pushed the relatives out, but slowly. I felt weird today. What was going on?

"Mom?"

Slap.

"What? You bitch, you dare?"

"I hate you, Wathone! You are not my son. You were born from a whore!"

"You've never talked to me like this."

"Now is the time. You and your father are the worst thing that ever happened to me. You should have died long ago, or I should have killed you when you came out of me."

"Guards, hold her! Guards?"

"I'm sorry, sir," a guard said. "We won't do that. Your father's orders, because of last night. At the monastery."

"What?"

Slap.

"Stop! Mom!"

"Wathone!" my sister shouted.

"What? Put it down!"

Her right hand was wrapped in bandages, the fingers I had broken. In her left hand she held a pair of scissors. She ran at me and pushed them into my stomach.

"Ahhhhhh! You ungrateful bitch!"

"You should die now, Wathone," my mother said.

I crawled to the front door, toward my guards. They had turned their backs on me. The rain was coming down on the yard. I saw a car coming. A black car. It looked like my father's.

I almost passed out. My eyes felt heavy.

I can't— I wasn't going to—

Mm-hmm.

The car door opened.

"Wathone! Get up!"

My father's voice.

I opened my eyes. My room. My bed.

What? Was that all a dream?

There was a dark stain on the ceiling above my bed. A drop of water fell onto my pillow.

But why? What did it mean? I could hear loud music, the same music. I was scared. I needed to call my father, now. I felt scared for the first time.

Downstairs, a door closed. Then I heard my mother's voice, talking to the maid. In this house.

I pressed the numbers with shaking hands.

"Father…"

"What, Wathone? I'm in a meeting. Stop calling me."

"Father, I had a bad dream. About my family killing me."

"What?"

"I'm scared, Father."

The music grew louder, along with my heartbeat.

"Wathone, did you forget to feed the statue?"

"Yes, Father."

He went quiet. I could hear the meeting behind him, men's voices, a chair scraping.

"Oh, God! Do it now! Go, hurry, get your ass out of bed now!"

"Father, why is it important?"

"Do it now! Wathone, don't talk so much!"

"Father, I don't know how to pray."

"No, no, just feed it. Go!"

"Okay, Father."

"Run downstairs and get the gems and diamonds, all of them, in my room. And feed it. Now! Please, Wathone. Hurry."

My father had never said please to me in my life.

"Okay, Father."

I ran downstairs.

"Wathone!" my sister called. She was following me. I had to run quickly.

"Father, your door passcode?"

"66312."

"Okay. Got it."

"Wathone, what are you doing?" my mother said. "I want to talk to you."

I ignored her and rushed to my father's table. I searched his desk. There were a lot of diamonds and gems. Shiny blues, reds, greens.

"Do you see it?" my father said.

"Yes, Father, but there are a lot of them."

"Grab them all and put them in the box near my desk."

"All of them?"

"Yes, all of them, Wathone! Shit! Fuck! Do it now!"

I grabbed the gems by the handful.

"Father, what about the wood and the other things?"

"Search for them in another box."

I found a box with things in it. Wood. Stones. A rose. Seeds.

"Father, I don't see the money!"

"It's under my bed."

I pulled the bed aside in a hurry. There were millions in cash under it. Dollars.

"Father, how much?"

"All of it."

"What?"

"Wathone, stop fucking asking questions and do it now! It's hungry. Give it everything!"

Why was he panicking more than me?

I held everything and ran to the garden. It had started to rain. The statue was far from the house now. Almost hidden. The path behind the banana trees was longer than I remembered.

"Wathone, you little prick, stop!" my mother shouted.

"Wathone, come back!" my sister shouted.

I ran. I had never panicked like this in my life, and I had never seen my father panic either. I dropped the phone. It didn't matter now.

"Wathone? Wathone? Wathone!" my father's voice said from the grass.

I found it. The devil statue. Why was the tongue longer than before? It hung down past its chin, toward the empty hand. And the eyes weren't red anymore.

I put the box in its hand, and the bag of money under its feet. I had to burn it. Where was the lighter? I didn't see it.

"Wathone," my mother said, from a distance.

I found the lighter near the statue. I started to burn it all. I started with the cash. I put the gem box on top of the cash bag and watched. The rain fell on it, and it burned anyway. The smell of burning money filled the garden.

"Wathone? Oh—"

I looked back, and it was my mom, and my sister. They were both holding knives, my sister in her left hand, the bandaged one held against her chest. They looked like they wanted to cut me open. Now they stood there, watching the flames. Their eyes went from the fire to me, and back to the fire. Slowly, the knives came down.

"What?"

"Nothing," my mother said.

"Nothing, brother," my sister said.

Then they both got down on their hands and knees and crawled backward to the house, slowly, never taking their eyes off the fire. My sister put her weight on her bandaged hand and made no sound at all. The back door closed behind them.

What was this about? Was my father right about the statue? Did this statue really give us power? I had fed it before. I had burned things at its feet with my own hands. But I had never believed him. I thought it was an old man's habit, like going to the pagoda. That was why I forgot. What was this?

Now I knew. My family needed this statue more than anyone. That was why my father had been so desperate. I had to do it. I believed it could grant me the power to become what I wanted.

I looked the statue in the eyes, and I touched the ring.

The eyes glowed again. The wind in the garden. The silence in the trees. The rain stopped.

Behind me, in the house, I couldn't hear the dripping anymore.

The ring was warm under my fingers. I didn't take my hand away.

"What are you…"

To be continued...