October 23rd

Chiara

Words failed Chiara.

In social situations, she nearly always dominated making everyone focus on her so much that her classmates gave her the title: 'Life of the Party'. She could converse on a variety of topics, especially cuisine, while making it interesting and funny. Dishing out rules to people outside her immediate family was however, an entirely different story. Asides from her father and brother, telling others what to do felt wrong and intrusive.

This was the very reason she told the housemates to clean wherever they felt comfortable with. Now, less than ten minutes later, everyone was seated in the lounge awaiting instructions from her since they couldn't decide on different spots to arrange and clean.

Chiara glanced at the housemate she took over the AHOH position from. He seemed to be paying her little attention as he glared at Priya, his obvious favourite hobby. She suspected there was something going on between them, but romantic or otherwise, she wouldn't judge. After all, she left her boyfriend back home in Italy without any form of contact for a week and counting. Didn't that make her worse than Priya, who was toying with both Eryk and Femi?

She looked away from the trio and focused on her list.

"Marcello, take the downstairs lounge. Mareike, you'll join him."

Chiara subtly raised her eyes and saw Mareike smile, it was nice to see her sweet young love. She went on quickly, to avoid the sad thoughts that had begun to seep in.

"Ingrid and Ace, take the garden and dining room. Lola, you will clean the toilets and bathrooms with Femi's help. Eryk, you'll work with Priya in the kitchen and this lounge. Is everyone settled?"

To Chiara's relief, everyone nodded their heads and got up to start their chores. Only her roommate showed dissatisfaction as she sighed loudly and muttered something under her breath. She shrugged and bounced her way downstairs, ready to see the action between Lola and Femi. Surely, the guy would find a way to get out of his chores and Chiara was looking forward to it.

In the middle of her cooking, Mareike and Marcello came upstairs alongside Femi.

"What are you making?" Mareike asked, curiously peering into the pot. "It smells nice."

"Stop putting your face in or you'll burn yourself." Chiara felt like the big sister figure in Mareike's life, always present to chide or correct her. "I'm making pasta, so you can just stay here with me and watch how it's done."

Mareike eagerly nodded, ever ready to learn. Chiara knew she wanted to cook something to impress Marcello, but she couldn't trust her with the kitchen yet. She didn't feel inclined to mysteriously enter fire again, she might not come out unscathed.

She acknowledged Femi's presence. "You and Lola were quite fast with the toilets."

He shrugged and picked up a biscuit. "She agreed to do everything, so I'm free. No biggie."

The surprise on their faces were evident, but no one asked the obvious question. Ever since the Jasper incident, Chiara tried to steer clear of the guy. Whether or not Femi told the truth that time, it didn't explain how Eryk and Ace easily gave up their positions or how he made Chiara clean the toilets. Up till now, she couldn't remember putting up a fight and in normal circumstances, she would have. She hated it so much that she and her dad cast lots every week on who toilet duty would go to.

The guy freaked her out but, in this case, she added extra sticks of pasta into the boiling water. He deserved a good meal for helping her deal with her annoying and troublesome roommate.

Ace

His chore partner was relentless, and in his perspective, intentionally sluggish. From the garden door, Ace saw the other housemates seated in the lounge and dining room but here he was; being bludgeoned with questions he didn't want nor have the answers to. His vague responses were either unnoticed or ignored, as she pushed on into very personal territory.

Up to Ace, he would have left her in the garden long ago but she suggested the work division in a way that made sure they would finish together. Instead, he stood waiting on as she dusted the exercise equipment, pausing frequently to push up the wide frames on her face. In his opinion; those nervous tics of hers were a huge contrast from her ever moving lips and as she opened them again, Ace held up a hand.

"Can you just keep shut and focus on cleaning so we can be done? Everyone else is finished, and we would have been too if not for your incessant questions." Ace said, not kindly.

This time, it was effective. Ingrid kept quiet, to the point that Ace couldn't hear her breathing, until they were finished. As she sidestepped him and made for the door, he was torn between guilt and relief but before he made a decision, she was out the door.

Ace moved out of the garden as well, and made his way into the lounge to join other housemates eating breakfast. Once again, he noticed how everyone paired up discussing amongst themselves; even Lola and Femi seemed to be arguing. If Penny, his only friend, were here...

He didn't finish the thought because he felt a piercing stare on his forehead. He looked up into the eyes of his chore partner, Ingrid. Her brows knit together above her sad eyes, and as he stared back into the brown flecks around her pupils, she swiped at them and pushed her glasses up. The guilty part of him won.

After eating, he decided to join Marcello and Mareike in doing the dishes. A few times, they ignored the dishes and flicked bubbles on each other. Some of them touched him instead, a bitter reminder that even in a house filled with people his age; Ace was still alone.

No man was an island, and certainly not someone like him who needed all the help he could get. There was no point in pushing people away so when he finished up in the kitchen, he marched up to Ingrid.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier. I wasn't in a good mood and I don't really appreciate questions."

"Yes I know. I'm sorry for ignoring that fact." She patted the empty space on the sofa, and Ace sat. "You make it so obvious, and I was just curious to see if I could bend that resolve." Ingrid rubbed her hands together, another tic of hers, and shrugged. "Guess I couldn't, but it's fine anyways. I can't hold a grudge."

"When you don't remember much, you want to be the one asking the questions and not the other way around." Ace sensed a question from her beginning to form and he shut it down. "Story for another day, that is."

"You seem to be quite good at making tools." Ingrid said instead after a moment of silence, pointing at the device Ace circled idly.

He smiled at the contraption he held; a small rotating fan made from spare wood in the garden and a few yards of metal he asked Mr. Han for during the Q&A session held after the games. He flipped the switch at the back and handed it to the curious lady beside him. Hesitantly, she took it and placed it on the table, beside her hands. She smiled at him.

"It works quite well. How did you do this?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just had this urge to make something, anything so I woke up earlier than usual and tinkered with the materials for a bit till I came up with this."

Ingrid nodded. "It's quite practical, not for this house though. The constant 20°C temperature is enough to freeze us over." She glanced at the air conditioner above their heads. "It's really nice. I wish I could make stuff like this."

"It felt like an instruction that lay ingrained into my memory, and the process didn't take a long time." Ace ran his hands through his wild hair, and looked away from her. He didn't want it to seem like he was bragging.

"Are you into construction?" Ingrid asked suddenly, ruining the moment for him.

Ace sighed audibly, now back to square one. His chore partner was one hundred percent relentless.

Femi

As Femi took his bath in the spotless bathroom, a part of his troubled mind felt giddy with excitement. As usual, he only had to say the words and Lola was on her knees scrubbing and cleaning. Really, he didn't mind cleaning toilets; it was way better than some of the chores he did in his grandmother's little hut in the village. However, Lola reminded him of the bullies and racists at college so naturally he took out his annoyance on her.

This small feat, however, could not clear away the tension and confusion whirling in his mind. His Q&A session with Mr. Han felt more like an interrogation, like he was being judged for something he had little control over. He couldn't help it: every word or simple request he made sounded like an order that the other person had to obey, even Mr. Han (although he was harder).

All the other housemates seemed cautious around him, he had heard whispers. They knew something was wrong with him, and the incident with Jasper's situation made it look worse. The question came into their eyes and stayed there; was he trying to control them?

He didn't have the mind to be angry at anyone of them, but he also felt judged. Judged by the weird abilities he developed after coming into the house. Somehow Femi knew the ground on which he stood was the answer to his questions, but for now there were more important issues.

The night he got the AHOH position, someone appeared in his dreams and continued doing so each time he fell asleep. A tall, lanky figure clothed in a robe darker than night. The eerie voices Femi usually heard in his thoughts and ignored seemed to get louder with the figure's presence. The first time, he woke up sweating and shaking from fear. Even right now, he shivered; it still felt very real.

Last night, he had gotten to see the face of the figure. A middle-aged man stared down at him, with eyes set so deep into his wide head it upset Femi to look at. The man had a long beard he frequently stroked, and he was dark. Like a man of African descent. As he came into Femi's view, he repeated the same words he said the previous nights.

"Win the games and subdue the housemates, son. Then you can come find me."

Femi screamed himself into consciousness, alerting his roommates. He waved off their concern as they stared, and went into the bathroom. His grandmother never ceased to remind him how much he resembled his father. That same head, the same body build (or lack of it) that frequently made him the object of ridicule, the same birthmark on his chin. He got everything from his father except his eyes.

The man in his dreams had deep brown eyes, but his' were onyx.

Femi shuddered and poured water on his face. He had no doubt that the man in his dreams was the person who vanished without a trace sixteen years ago.

The man was his father.

*****

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PS: IT'S QUITE HARD TO FOLLOW A REGULAR SCHEDULE, BUT I'M TRYING TO BE BETTER.