Wednesday, 29 March 2023
Casein
Casein wondered if he had the ability or the heart to abide such
abject poverty, especially when it existed in a town which
contained a majestic abbey. People had told him, if not out of pure
sarcasm, that the abbot was a very kind person indeed. How could
he have abandoned these poor orphans? He could not help but
silently abase these devils wearing angelic masks, pretending to be
god-fearing human beings. As the wind rustled his deep blue hair,
he thought: Only if I were an aardvark. An able bodied aard- Casein
was indeed taken aback by his seemingly bizarre thoughts, and his
cheeks ushed, as if he were abashed. He desired desperately to
just teleport back to when he was six. When his mother was alive
and free. Before she had been abetted into robbery by a complete
stranger. Was it a stranger? Maybe back to when he was ve,
before he had snatched an abacus from the principal's child.
His eyes followed up the bricked wall, to an old, faded poster that
read GCSE EXAMS TO BE CANCELLED. His lips distorted into a
faint smile as middle school memories came ooding back. Back
then, he had answered the teacher's compounded question, 'What
does the abbreviation GCSE stand for? Why do we abbreviate
words?' After he had answered 'Ma'am, it stands for Germany
cancels social endorphins,' he had been immediately kicked out of
class. It wasn't that his teacher was a cold beast, it was just that
she had had too much of his pettiness. Now that he understood
her, his hidden anger abated. Funny how the next question I
answered was wrong too, even though I was dead serious. My
brain had completely abdicated the concept of studying.
An abhorrent scream erupted behind him. Casein spun into action,
expecting danger. But what he heard from the screaming woman
scared him more. Clutching his abdomen, he ran towards her as
the wind whistled abnormally loud. The woman was panicking. 'My
daughter- the apple of my eye- she was here- she was-' Casein
rested his hand on top of hers carefully, and looked at her straight.
'I will nd her. I do not know what happened. I do not know where
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she is. But you will need to co operate, madam?' He raised his eye
and waited.
'Tristie. Madam Tristie.'
'Right, Madam Tristie, I need you to remain calm, and tell me how
your daughter looks like. How I can identify her of course.' The lady
remained still for a couple of seconds, eyes full of large tears, and
then walked right past him. Her hand shot up, beckoning him to
follow. Casein was confused. This was not a reaction that he had
expected. Nevertheless, he followed her into an alley. The lady was
dressed up in rags, her apron hanging on one strip of cloth. Hair an
uncombed mess, muddy shoes, patched elbow; it was a slum
alright. Instinct told him that they were going into one, and they
were going in deep. It was surprisingly quiet and empty. The
misshapen houses and narrow streets brought out his
claustrophobia. How he wished it was just an abduction. The lady
halted in front of her house - no di erent from the others. Casein
caught the faint outline of an abattoir on the corner of his left eye,
as Tristie spoke up, 'Sir, please hurry inside. I've got a picture.'
Casein froze for a moment. Blood. Doubt and disgust had not only
begun to germinate, but they had ourished considerably in his
head. He stepped foot inside the damp structure, head lowered to
pass the small frame of the splintered wooden door. Again, no
surprise really. A glass of water on the little wooden stool, scrawny
rags strewn on a de ated mattress. Th replace was cool. Nothing
ablaze. 'So, Madam Tristie, where does your daughter sleep, or
where do you sleep? Assuming only one sleeps on the mattress?'
'We sleep together. There isn't much money to go around, I'm
afraid.' She fumbled around in a potato sack, and then slowly
produced a battered picture. 'This is my daughter. Just twelve.
Look at her, her beautiful brown eyes-' Her voice broke again.
Casein slung his arm around the lady in a comforting manner. With
his free hand, he took out a plastic card from his breast pocket.
'Don't worry, Madam Tristie, I'm an experienced police o cer.' He
kept his card of identity in front of her eyes, making sure that she
caught up with his words.
'Thank you, O cer Casein.'
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He sighed, and shot one last look at the mattress as he replaced
the important document and the picture to where the former
belonged. Hurriedly walking two steps to the only exit and only
source of air in this place, he closed his eyes brie y. Upon stepping
out, Casein tried his best to not drop to his knees as a wave of
nausea crashed into him.
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