Zaya

Pinned

Zaya:

When I was young, I used to be ashamed of my mother, students in my school would bully me and the teachers at school didn't treat me right. To them, I was like invisible. The very incident happened that night was the reason that made her fall into the asylum.

I was in the kitchen and heard the door open. I went to check and see no sign of my mother. She left! Panicked and frustrated, I ran out of the house and I spot many people gathered near a house. That's when I knew she was there. I rushed to the house and heard the screaming and crying. I made my way through the crowd.

Mother clutched herself to a man. The ginger-haired lady whom I assumed, his wife was trying to release him from my mother's hold, the man was trying the same.

"How the hell this mad woman entered our home?" The young girl said, standing there with a bamboo stick in her hand.

"Let's go to our home." My mother was hauling the man with her.

"Leave him." His wife shouted.

I stood still at the door. I was embarrassed, agitated, wanted to run away from her and abandon her. I wipe the tear with my sleeve.

"Her nails are digging into my skin. Get her off me." Just then the young girl was ready to strike my mother, she absolutely aimed for the head.

I reached out and clutched the girl's arm before she could strike my mother.

"Stop. Please stop." I stood between the girl and mother. The girl had a puzzled look on her face and jerked her hand from my grasp.

"Zaya! He... he... he is your father... see." She pointed her finger towards his face and looked at me with delightful eyes. "He is back now. I told you he wouldn't leave us." I can't. This is too much for me to handle. A tear slid down my face. Her condition is getting worse and worse.

"You! She is your mother, right?" The ginger-haired lady looked at me with furious eyes. My mouth tightened into a thin line. I was unable to utter a word; put my head down. This was not only embarrassing but hurtful.

"AAAH..." The man shouted in pain, the hold of my mother was getting too tight. I somehow managed to pull the hold of her hand on that man. The hold caused a bruise on his arm. It took all my strength to haul her out of the house.

"He is your father. He is here." She kept repeating those words but I dragged her; through the eyes and whispers. She tried to jerk her hand away from my hold, but it was all in vain.

"Take her to the asylum. She belongs there." A lady from the crowd shouted. I stopped in the mid-way. Tears burned my eyes and my lips trembled.

As soon as we reached, I closed the door and latched it.

"Let me go. He is here." She tried pushing me away from the door, however, I did not budge.

"He is not my father!" I yelled. She scurried away from me only to sit on the bed and hugged her legs to the chest.

"He is not my father. Not your husband." I cooed. She shook her head and rocked back and forth.

"He is your father. He is here." It would be better to put her to sleep, I thought.

"Okay, we will meet him tomorrow. For now, go to sleep, and we will go to him tomorrow." That was the only way to keep her quiet. I tucked her in a blanket, and she instantly falls asleep.

I woke up to the sound of pounding on the door. The clock showed 10.30. I opened the door and saw two people with fully white clothes and a police officer.