Bebegigs
Chapter 37's

Late at night, on the same night, Magenta just returned from Curug Tour. He stopped behind the door, closed his eyes, and pressed his hot forehead against the cold glass.

I was tired, he thought.

Tired, so it felt he could not be able to open the door and enter his room.

It couldn't have been this late, he thought, he opened his eyes and tried hard to force himself out of that door. The moon is still high in the sky. The air is cold and heavy because of the dew.

la coughed.

Neck hurts. Face's hot. His body feels crumpled.

I hope I don't get sick.

Her thing, the night he passed in the waterfall was already vague in his memory.

Where'd he go? What's he doing?

he remembered the dark waterfall. But I don't remember the orange.

he remembered the pain. The pain that slapped him. A hot feeling on his face. But I don't remember what happened.

He remembers waking up and finding himself lying in the bushes, but cannot remember his body ever being thrown.

Sleeping in the bushes?

No. gabe.

There's no way I'm sleeping in the bushes.

I was too tired to remember, she told herself.

I'm just. I'm so tired.

He finally opened the door. He quietly crossed the floor of the crimped plank into the dark kitchen, passing through a short narrow passageway, past his parents' room.

Silent.

His room.

So tired. So tired. It takes a lot of effort to push the door open.

His body feels heavy. Her clothes feel heavy.

Her hair felt heavy on her head.

His breathing roared as he exerted strength to walk.

he had to take off his clothes, before the heavy clothes overcame him.

he had to go to bed, to sleep.

You need to sleep to relieve this fatigue.

To relieve the pain in his throat.

But where is he?

Why is everything sloping and swinging?

Just tired. Just. once tired.

Kantata, honey. He remembered he went with Kantata, before he found himself lying in the bushes.

What'd he do to me?

Why am I so tired?

he forced himself not to think about it. If he thought about it now, he would never be able to fall asleep.

First of all, I had to take off my clothes, break it up, struggle to clear his mind.

The furniture in his room looks just like a blurry shadow.

Frosted. Blurry among the blurs.

But all of a sudden, one of those blurs became increasingly obvious.

Magenta winks his eyes. Once. Twice.

Someone was sitting on his bed, sitting in a dark room, turned his back to Magenta.

Magenta blinked again, wanting to get rid of the sight. But it didn't work.

What he saw was really there.

Someone was in his bed.

Bursting with fear, Magenta looked at the unmoving figure.

Who'sis that?

Who's in his room at this hour?

How'd he get in?

"Hei—" whispered Magenta. "Hei—"

As soon as Magenta touched it, the dark figure slowly turned around.

His face is beginning to look.

And Magenta started screaming.

While smothering his mouth with both hands to dampen his screams, Magenta retreated away from the bed.

He crashed into his low closet, a stabbing pain in his back.

Without caring about it, he gaped in horror at the dark-faced figure, leaning over his bed, staring back at him across the room.

Magenta slowly lowered his hands, to breathe air.

"De—" he exclaimed, which sounded only a hoarse whisper. "Dewa—lu is dead!"

With both hands hitchhiking above the knees of his black pants, the figure leaned forward slowly, his face out of the darkness and into the pale moonlight spot that pierced through the window.

"De---" Magenta repeated, his back pressing hard on the low cupboard.

The face of the God was clear in light, green and swollen. His eyes were open but back into his head. His pupils were white, pus-circled.

One of his cheeks was torn apart and his skin was hanging like a pouch. When God finally opened his mouth to speak, his jaw creaking like the sound of a rusty door hinge, Magenta saw that some of his teeth had disappeared.

"Hi, Gen."

His voice was like the wind, a gust of air.

"No!" Waves of fear loosened Magenta's knees until he almost fell. He turned around and gripped the edge of the closet to support his body to stay standing.

"No!"

"Yaaaaaaaa," sizzled the creature on the bed.

The window curtains unfolded as if responding.

"Yaaaaaa," repeated the God as if trying his terrible voice. And the curtains again flapped to answer him.

This is not a dream, Magenta thought. The knob of the closet drawer felt pierced his back.

How many times has he dreamed of the Dewangga since that terrible morning when he found his twin brother floating in the water, torn apart and lifeless?

How many times has the Deity come back to ruin Magenta's dreams?

But this isn't a dream.

This one is not a dream!

Magenta was very sure this time it was not a dream.

Dewangga—the Dewangga-sitting on Magenta's bed, his yellowish-white slashed eyes watching Magenta, his torn face and his hanging skin proving his death.

"De-you're dead" Magenta repeated. The idea clogged his brain to find other words. He cannot clear his mind.

"You're dead."

"My malem is not dead" whispered Dewangga, leaning over to make his voice sound.

The curtains were blown out of the window, as if being sucked out by an invisible force.

"It's malem I'm not dead," repeated Dewangga horribly. "It's my malem between life and death."

The head of the Dewangga tilted to one side, almost falling onto his shoulder, as if tied to a rope.

"No!" shouted Magenta. He closed his eyes, unable to constantly look at the form of his damaged and creepy twin brother.

When he opened his eyes again, he was terrified.

The man stood up from his bed.

"Don't-don't!" Magenta shouted, trying to retreat away, but trapped the closet.

The insects advanced quickly, as if hovering across the room. His hands stretched out and grabbed Magenta's shoulder.

His grip was hard like a bone.

The blank white eyes, embedded in the red, festering sunken eyes, looked at Magenta as if to accuse him.

"De—no!"

But the clutches of the Dewangga are getting stronger.

The foul smell pierced Magenta's sense of smell.

he tried to hold his breath, but his chest was blooming.

A sickening smell surrounded him, suffocating his breath, suffocating him until he screamed.he almost suffocated from the sting of the stench.

The adult still clutched his shoulders, his white eyes staring at Magenta's eyes, his body bent over Magenta, hovering over him in a dark room, holding Magenta, cornering him, chastising him with a foul smell, death's smell.

"Dewa—lu want to do something?" Magenta shrieked with a voice of horror he did not recognize himself. "Gapain are you here?"

"Gue—gue is here to warn," the Innocence whispered, those words slipping from between his stinking breath.