When the Flowers Withered

By Lydia Chen

It was supposed to be a wonderful day, a day of family reunion, love, joy… everything.
Yet, it became the nightmare that haunted me for the rest of my life.
What if I have the courage to fight back a little bit more?
What if I have the strength to fight back a little bit more?
What if I have the intelligence to find the killer?
Everything will be different.
I will have a chance to tell my parents who I am,
to get accepted,
to crush the barriers inside my heart.
Maybe, I will feel better.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: May 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781543765175

Lydia Chen

Lydia Chen is a bilingual teenage author who is currently living in Taiwan. When the Flowers Withered is a book written during her recovery from mental disorders in the age of fifteen.

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by Lydia Chen.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/singapore

Contents

Prologue

Part 1

Spring

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Part 2

Summer

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Part 3

Autumn

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Part 4

Winter

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Part 5

When the Flowers Wither

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Afterword

For

my family,

my teachers,

my friends.

Blood flows every time the melody goes…

Prologue

Seeking the pleasure for a reliable truth.

Uncovering the mist hidden under the fall.

Facing the undergoes, layering the blood.

The case file is facing open on the table,

—which the constable is writing on.

Sign. Deep breath, drawn back to November

—where the angels have fallen, earth has shaken, and poison has drifted.

Where my life altered.

Part 1

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Spring

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One

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November 15, 2016, is the day I’ll never forget.

***

AS THE ALARM RANG WHEN the sun shines right through, I dress and walk out of my room. Today is November 15, 2016, also known as Flores Day. Flores Day is one of the traditions that the Flores family—the wealthiest family in Canada—has. They will gather around in their old house, the Flores’s castle, and have a family dinner together, just like Thanksgiving.

As you can probably guess right now, I’m one of the Flores.

At seven thirty the school bus arrives at the stop that is about a five-minute walk from my home. Unfortunately, the special day does not change the fact that I need to go to school, but I will have an early dismissal after lunch today, which is a fair deal for me.

Zaas, what’s up? Samantha said and waved at me, pointing at the seat she left for me. Rise and shine?

Samantha Greenwich is my best friend, forever. She is almost a year older than me—seventeen years old—and lives just two streets down from my home. Our parents knew each other pretty well before we both were born. We grew up together and did a lot of crazy shit—painting my room the colors of the rainbow and getting my mom pissed off, wrapping her dog Mobby like a mummy, putting hot sauce in both of our parents’ sandwiches, etc. For me, she is the only person that I can fully trust.

Here comes your girl. As the bus stopped at Waterpark Street, Samantha whispers to me and greets the girl that just came on the bus. Morning Amelia, looking good!

Thanks, you too. Amelia smiles and turns to me. Good morning, Flores.

G-Good morning, Amelia.

Hope you have a good time tonight.

I smile at her in reply, but I can feel my heart beating fast, like it is about to pump out of my chest. I have had a crush on that gorgeous Swedish girl Amelia Nelson since she joined our school last year. She is the brightest star that shines in the darkest night, the water in the desert, the cherry blossoms in the spring.

I think you should give it a try, Samantha whispered. You do realize you are quite popular in our school, no matter girls or boys, right? Amelia is probably one of them.

I never have confidence with that kind of exotic love shit, I mutter. I am aware of the fact that I’m popular in our school, but I think Amelia’s feelings toward me are still questionable. I mean, we are really good friends … I guess? Amelia is always mysterious, about her family and even about herself. The only thing that I know about her background is that she is from Sweden and came here because of … of family issues?

Is it about family issues? Wait … Ugh…

Our school is open to same-sex relationships as you probably notice. There are a lot of couples, Samantha said with a sense of pride.

"Hey, Zaas! Are you listening to me? Zaas?"

I am! I just can’t cross that line! I cried. My family is freaking crazy about these kinds of things! I—

I stop, realizing the whole bus, including Amelia, is staring at me. Looking confused.

Sorry, didn’t mean to lose my temper.

--

The bus arrives at school after the awkward talk of relationships. Vancouver Junior Athletic High School (VJAHS) is a school that specializes in athletic training in every sport. All the sports teams, men and women, have a good ranking in the Junior High Sports Association (JHSA). Every team sport will have different practice time in the week, every practice is three hours. At school, I’m what they call a monster. A monster is a description we use for a person that joins two or more sports teams and can also handle their academics efficiently. My schedule is always busier than the others, but I manage to handle it well. One of the reasons is probably because of the endless pressure from my family.

Walking in the school with my head full of the conversation between me and Samantha, I head straight to the coffee vending machine. The big words Coffee Is Life pasted on the machine are nice and tight. I sign and press the button Caffè Americano.

Flores, you got a minute? While I’m waiting for my coffee, Amelia pats me on my shoulder.

I turned around and see her standing in front of me. Sunlight shines on her shoulders from the massive window.

God morgon, I greet her in Swedish. I’ve known how to speak Swedish since I was small; my mother, who is really fluent in Swedish, taught me. When I found out Amelia was from Sweden, I found an immediate connection between us. Now, I’m doing my best to cover my nervousness. Hey … why do you never call me Zaalia?

Um … I think it is more comfortable. She shifted her hair. That makes me special, Flores.

Okay. I smile. So …

Oh, just want to give you this. She takes my hand and gives me a small whitish-bluish package. This is an amulet that I made back in Sweden, hope that this can make your day better.

Thank you. I pat her head. You made my day.

She smiles, her eyes gazing upon mine.

As I watch Amelia disappear from the hallway, I hold the amulet tight.

My brightest star just shines even brighter.

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Two

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I LEFT SCHOOL RIGHT AFTER lunchtime passed by. I needed to leave early to do the crazy preparations and take a two-hour ride to my grandparents’ place. After I returned home, I quickly dressed into my black suit. Mom gave me a funny eye roll when she saw me in my suit and tie again. Every year Mom wishes me to wear dresses, but I just don’t know why my mom insists that I will be eye-catching in dresses. It is just not my style.

After an hour of preparation, we can finally head to my grandparent’s house. The Flores family started to rise when my great-great-grandparents started the first logistics company in Canada after they got married. Eventually, the business became global. To be honest, I do not like my family spirit that much. In the massive castle of my grandparents on November 15, it’ll be all about the academics, how much money you can make, and what husband is really good for your future.

But those are not the things that I care about the most.

What matters to me the most is that my family criminalizes same-sex relationships or anything they think is against God or unnatural. Every time, they make me feel exceedingly uncomfortable when they make rude comments about that kind of stuff. This is the biggest challenge that is dragging me away from confessing my feelings to Amelia. Even if we work out, I’ll get banished by my family after they find out.

I look out of the window, looking up at the pinkish and bluish and purplish sky. For me, the sky is like a painting tray, containing all the colors. Birds are flying around like they were liberated from the cage, winds caress gently at the children playing around in the viridescent fields, and butterflies fluttered around to find the finest flower. Everything looks so peaceful; everything is so vivid, and everything is so … free.

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Three

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PASSING THE MASSIVE PINE TREES and driving through the golden gate, a gray, old British-fashioned castle came into our vision. The servants came out to carry our luggage as we entered the castle.

You need to be polite to others, Mom said for the tenth time.

Zaalia, remember to greet all of the elders, Dad said for the twelfth time.

I look at them with a bright smile, showing them I understood.

I definitely need a pair of earplugs next time I start to dream about my parents repeating the importance of being polite.

As we enter the gargantuan doorway, we see the scarlet carpet running into the middle distance, the golden candlesticks covered by their new flesh, brightening the old statuary and artworks that used to be hard to see. Walking up the marble staircase that leads us to the dining room, I see my grandparents ordering servants to organize our supper, my cousins running around by the fireplace, the bartender carefully taking wine out of the bar. My grandparents were so excited when they saw us. Grandfather waves his hands to tell the bartender to hand a cup of wine to my parents, and he raises his cup

Noah, it’s been a while since I saw you! You look fine and great! Leyla, you still look as gorgeous as the time that we first met! And Zaalia … My grandfather stops and looks at me. He squeezes his eyebrows but still smiles and says, I thought that this time you will be in a dress, I guess I was wrong. Haha, you seem to have grown taller since last year my dear.

It is nice to see you both, Grandpa, Grandma. I smile awkwardly at them. I already knew that my grandfather would comment on my appearance, but who cares?

I walk toward the spot that I usually stay at—the corner behind the bar—and take out my earphones. I like to stay in the corner and just chill and relax, and enjoy my moments before …

ZAALIAAAA!

My relaxing moment is over, I guess.

I look up and see my two cousins, Timmy and Tommy, running toward me. To be honest, for all the pros and cons that can appear this evening, this is the moment that I fear the most. I don’t like dealing with little kids. Even though I’m an athlete, I’m only patient on the court.

The two of them gather around me and start to ask all kinds of questions. Who is my boyfriend? Who do I like? What is my new interest? All the questions that the little kids are curious about.

Questions that they ask every year. Every year.

Wait, wait, wait, you two. Chill down for a moment, please. I place my hand on their heads to calm them down. Ask one at a time, I have a whole night to answer your questions.

I answer their questions impatiently until my grandfather announces that our feast has begun. The large dining table is full of dedicated dishes and desserts. I take a piece of beef prime ribs, a couple of vegetables, and a slice of tiramisu. Everyone at the dining table looks so peaceful and gentle, but what I see on their insides are the complicated relationships, fake smiles, the ambition to take over my grandparent’s business.

So, Zaalia, how’s your performance at school?

And here goes the kid questions again.

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Four

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A MAN COVERED WITH A black coat stops by the front door of the Flores’s castle.

Blood flows every time the melody goes …

He laughs with his cracked voice and touches the front gate.

Sir, get away from that gate!

The man points his knife at the guard’s nose.

Leave? He turns and points at the castle. They are the ones who need.

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Five

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MY DELIGHTFUL MOMENT OF THE dinner broke down with a simple question.

Zaalia, why are you still in that crappy athletic high school? I heard that they are full of unnatural people.

I bet that is because she doesn’t have the guts to be in a competitive school like the ones that we’re in.

I freeze and sit uncomfortably at the large dining table, smiling awkwardly at my fellow cousins, the teasing from these bastards echoing in my ear like knives stabbing my heart.

Or maybe she is one of them!? The unnatural people! Owen, one of my cousins, teases while giggling.

And suddenly everyone starts to laugh. This laugh is not the laugh of joyfulness, but the laugh of discrimination. The laugh is caused by indifference, which nurtures the hate deep in their heart.

I leave the dark.

***

I sit down at the end of the hallway, catching my mood from the storm that I’ve just gone through. Suddenly, the amulet that Amelia gave to me falls out of my pocket.

Weird, I don’t remember bringing this thing here.

I take a closer look at the amulet. The amulet is an oval-shaped package that is wrapped in a white-and-light-blue cloth. A brief smell of peony arises every time I touch it.

Where do the smell come from? I think, trying to open the amulet, but fail. Probably from the contents inside the oval package.

Why is life so hard? Why is the world so rude? I mutter. After I found out that I’m into girls, I tried my best to hide it from my family. I pretend that everything is all right while my family teases my school and me, making jokes that they think are funny. But today, I just can’t hold my emotions bumping all around my world. My parents don’t even care about this; they just joke and laugh along with them. It is goddamn 2016! Why do people still discriminate against people like us?

We are born like this. We deserve to be treated normally.

With my messed-up mind, I listen to the bugs buzzing around outside the building; the wind gently touches the window.

Phew, buzz—the sound surrounds the quiet hallway, animating the doddering hallway. The sounds are like meditation songs. I feel my eyes getting heavier, and soon, the hallway dies out of my vision.

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Six

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A FAINT TOXIC METALLIC SMELL waft through my nose as I wake up. Dazed, I check the time, half-past nine. I’ve slept in the hallway for almost two hours.

Drip … drip …

Something is running down in the hallway.

Crock … crock …

It is coming toward me.

Hello? Mom? Dad? Anyone? I yell as an indescribable fear rises from my guts, making my voice tremble.

Hello?

Unanswered.

Drip … drip …

Crock … crock …

It is getting closer.

The toxic metallic smell grows as it approaches, followed by a sharp siiiiii. The sound penetrates through my ears, like a claw scratching on my body.

I’m deadly terrified right now.

I hide at the back of the pillar with my whole body shaking as if there were an earthquake, and that is when I first met the person that changed my life.

I see a muscular man covered with a black coat that hides half his face. At his chest, there is a white peony that stands out from him. The peony looks pure and innocent, like the angels from the sky. He moves forward followed by the toxic metallic smell.

I … can … smell … you … The cracked, sorrowful voice echoes inside the room. I hold my breath.

Siiiiiiii …

Dammit, he is still here.

I place my body straight against the pillar. Closing my eyes, I hold the amulet tight in my pocket, hoping that he doesn’t find me.

Gudinna välsignelser,¹ I say, closing my eyes and repeating this phrase over and over in my mind, hoping that it can somewhat comfort my tenseness.

As the siiiiii sound dies out a few moments later, I open my eyes.

Drip … drip …

A gooey red liquid drips on my black suit, and I lift my head.

Hello, beautiful, the cracked voice says, Låt oss ha lite kul.²

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Seven

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A THIN RED LINE APPEARS on my skin as the cold metal knife skims across my throat. I