5
For the longest time, Jude’s nights were characterized by a profound solitude within the familiar confines of his room.
It had always been a repetitive routine growing up, such as doing a quick, stripped-back skincare routine, finishing his schoolwork, immersing himself in a book, writing poems and journals, then retreating to bed with the simple hope of a peaceful sleep.
His nights were uneventful, and though the monotony had once unsettled him, he had long since grown accustomed to it, and complaining about it never crossed his mind.
He loved it this way. The four worn walls of his modest room had become his sanctuary.
The silent witness to every hardship, every fleeting triumph, every up and down in the past.
Tonight, however, was different.
The party had just started an hour ago. Loud music filled the entirety of the house. As much as he did not want to listen to all the noises and focus on more important matters before his eyes, it was just too loud to go unnoticed. Unlike Mitch’s room, he had no embedded soundproof insulation.
The noises pulsed through the house, accompanied by bursts of laughter, flirtatious chatter, indistinct conversation, and the occasional clinking of glasses.
Despite his efforts to concentrate, a strange curiosity stirred within him.
There was a part of him wondering: What a party actually looked like, and to be out there amongst people?
A part of Jude’s brain knew better than to entertain it.
Thinking of going out would surely be a death sentence for him, knowing his sister’s clear warning.
Whether out of shame or some unspoken reason, she preferred to keep him hidden, as though his existence were something to be concealed.
She did not want the school to know about him, even though they already knew they were siblings and living under the same roof.
Jude had wondered about it long before, and one thing that he always concluded from it was that she was ashamed of him.
Jude closed the book that he was reading on the table with a heavy sigh.
He brought his left foot to the back side and tiptoed on it as he began to stand up from his seat, feeling the familiar beat of the music from one of his favorite female artists.
The upbeat melody coursed through him, stirring something alive beneath the stillness he had grown used to.
He quickly turned his back from the chair, paused for a second, and started moving his head up and down as Avril Lavigne’s music ‘Love It When You Hate Me’ stimulated the millions of cells of his body.
Before long, he found himself dancing.
Instead of reading a book that he had planned to finish tonight, which was now closed on the study table, he found himself dancing along insanely with the music that was now playing very loudly in the house, which blasted into his ears; unexpectedly, for him, it was very soothing and oddly satisfying.
He was stuck in his room all alone, which he always preferred, but the curiosity of going out bothered him for no rational reason.
Jude’s attire was far from a “party look” but it was his ultimate comfort.
He was wearing a thin pair of boxer shorts, a baggy T-shirt that fell almost to his knees, socks that ended on his tibia, and a grey sweatband he always used for studying.
This outfit was adorned with his favorite character, Doraemon.
His love for Doraemon had begun back in the ninth grade, sparked by the film “Stand by Me” which had left him in tears for weeks.
He had always felt a silent connection with the protagonist, Nobita, particularly regarding his struggles with bullying.
But for him, he often felt cowardly compared to the cartoon character who eventually learned to fight back.
As he was bouncing on his toes, lip-syncing to the song, and wiggling his head crazily, he accidentally spotted the head of a bottle of gin in his cabinet that he had hidden yesterday.
Mitch borrowed his savings, which he was sure she would never pay back, and bought too many bottles of different kinds of liquor and snacks.
Out of sheer curiosity, Jude stole one bottle of gin, which he guessed was not hard, and two packs of Cheetos, then immediately hid them in his cabinet.
Somehow, he was a little afraid that his sister might still catch the things he hid in his room with his own money, even though he was aware that Mitch rarely entered his room.
Now, the door of his cabinet was unsurprisingly slightly ajar due to being antique, and the head of the alcohol was peeking out lasciviously. To feed his curiosity, Jude’s feet, which had minds of their own, started to stride toward the hidden temptations.
Slowly, hesitantly, carefully, he approached it.
The cabinet’s door creaked as he opened it wider; every intermittent sound was like a thump of his own pulse.
He grabbed the gin grudgingly and read the label.
It said, pink grapefruit mix, ultra-light alcohol, containing seven hundred milliliters and fifteen percent ABV.
Jude reckoned it was light, and it would not make him tipsy in the least. He had never tried drinking alcohol, not even once in his life before.
At most, he might have encountered its taste faintly embedded in certain confections or prepared dishes, but the act of pouring a glass and drinking it outright had never appealed to him.
Then, unbidden, Jasper’s words resurfaced in his mind: “It is fun going out of our comfort zones sometimes.” The thought lingered, slowly taking shape into a justification of his own — “Our body needs alcohol sometimes.”
Before he could think twice, Jude’s hands tightly gripped the cap of the bottle and effortlessly opened it.
He could already smell the fruity fragrance along with the light alcohol scent that diffused through the air and went deep into his nostrils.
The smell sent an unfamiliar tingling running down through his spine.
For reasons he could not fully fathom, his mouth began to water.
Perhaps, stirred by the faintly sweet, citrus scent rising from the bottle.
Drawn by a mixture of curiosity and impulse, he lifted the bottle slowly, bringing the opening to his lips.
Without allowing himself further hesitation, he tasted the ethanol.
Contrary to his expectation, his expression did not contort in distaste. Instead, to his quiet surprise, he found it pleasant, even. For the first time, he liked it: the average sweetness, the light alcohol accompanied by warm pleasure inside, and the smell. Overall, it tasted good.
Without another contradiction, he brought the bottle to his mouth again and drank a little more. The taste had become unexpectedly compelling. It was almost addictive.
Leaning back on his feet, he extended his arms into the air, the bottle still clasped in his right hand, as the speaker roared with a new melody. This time, the music softened into something more subdued, a ballad.
For approximately half an hour, he immersed himself in this unfamiliar side of his being.
With his eyes closed and his head tilted upward toward the ceiling, he allowed the slow, melancholic music to settle deep within him.
In that quiet surrender, his thoughts turned inward, reflecting on the life he had endured, the countless obstacles he had faced, and the hardships he had overcome alone.
One by one, his hidden burdens resurfaced: the silent pains he had carried, the unspoken struggles he had long concealed.
Jude drew in a long, weary breath. With it came a lingering question: When would there come a time that someone, too, would take an interest in me? Someone willing to take care of me?
He laughed at the absurdity of his thought. How come someone would do that to me when the relentless bullying and physical abuse persisted, occurring day after day? And I am ugly. Who’s going to like me?
The only thing that helped him to get through this life, which he got used to taking, was the only reason these pains subsided when he went to bed at the end of the day.
Everything in his life had spiraled into havoc a thousandfold.
Yet, there he was, still standing up amidst the turmoil of his life. Maybe he was tough like Nobita.
Am I strong?
For a moment, he let the question settle before answering it, softly, almost uncertainly.
Perhaps, I am.
A lone tear escaped his eye. He took another gulp of the liquor. “I am not strong.” Somewhere, part of his brain whispered.
And yet, despite everything, he felt a subdued sense of pride for having endured this far.
Through it all, he was still proud of himself for getting this far, and in some ways, somehow, he deserved a break from this chaos and noise in life.
He had come a long way, and still, the life of Jude Finn continues.
He would continue to endure, continue to fight, even if he were weak.
A faint, lethargic smile touched his lips as he exhaled deeply and lifted the bottle for another chug.
To his surprise, the taste grew more agreeable with each passing sip, until, before he fully realized it, the bottle had been emptied.
A light fog settled over his thoughts, and his vision began to blur at the edges.
Tilting the bottle once more, he allowed the final drop of liquor to fall onto his tongue, instinctively extending it to catch what remained.
The weight of his reflections only deepened his desire for more, more of the fleeting escape the liquor provided.
Thinking about his life and everything in between induced him to have more of this gin.
Unaware of his own actions, he soon found his hand resting on the doorknob.
Without hesitation, he twisted it and pulled the door open: the music surged louder, the ambience went harsher, and the smell of the air became dirtier.
Before he knew it, he was out of his room.