MOONFLOWER
I envy children who lived in a warm house with their family; have warm food to fill their bellies and money to pay for their clothes and school. I envy children who can freely play outside and laugh with their friends. I envy them for having a complete family; their mothers who make hearty meals, knits their scarf or sweater for the winter or buy them ice cream if the ice cream truck passes by the town after two weeks from the last time it visited, their fathers who teaches their son things that grown-up man do. I envy them for all the good things they had while I, a child like them, had all the bad things.
They were such fortunate kids, while I am the unfortunate one. My mother left us when I was three years old because she couldn't bear any longer being the battered wife, my three siblings were sold off to rich couples who was unlucky to have a child and my father, who was a drunkard and abusive bastard, always beated me up for being a 'stupid' child and slaved me around. He never allowed me to go out for more than five minutes and if he found out I stayed outside longer than that, his fists and feet would always make its way to my body beating me to a pulp and lock me on my room and left me unfed for forty-eight hours.
The whole time I am locked up in my room, I would always wonder what if I am like the other kids in the town? What if I had a different family who's more well-off and had both loving parents? It would be perfect. But reality would always find its way to remind me that it won't happen; that it's only a dream, a wishful dream.
One afternoon, as usual, I was doing the laundry right outside our home while my father, who drank until seven in the morning, slept in the living room, when a little girl called me and invited me to play with her. I know her. Her family moved in the town three weeks ago. Her father was a doctor who works at the clinic and her mother was a housewife. I refused at her offer and told her to scram before my father catch us. I don't want my father to scare her or see me get beaten up by my father, either. But instead of walking away, she daringly stepped forward and sat beside me; no intention to go without us playing. A groan left my mouth and agreed to play with her but told her I should be home before lunch. Her eyes twinkled and nodded before dragging me to her house and there, we played hide and seek with her little sister and her mother watched us through the kitchen window while baking cookies for us. It was the first time, again, I felt so happy after my life went into ruins. It was the first time, again, I had a playmate, I was able to laugh and giggle again like the other children do. I was so happy at that moment that I forgot about the time and consequences once my father would find out that I disobeyed his rules.
A thunderous yell echoed outside the house of the Jones family, and Mrs. Jones, the mother of the girl, opened the door of their house revealing my angry father. His bloodshot eyes searched the whole room and when his eyes found me, he walked in with heavy steps and yanked me up before dragging me out of of the house. I heard Mrs. Jones' plead to let me go but my father did not listen. He never listens to anyone, only to himself. He muttered angry curses under his breath while we pass the central park where a lot of children and parents were now witnessing a father dragging his weak and beat-up son. A tear left my eyes as the shame slowly sinked to me and decided to lower my gaze on the dusty road while my father dragged me back to our home.
On the corner of the living room, I cried silently while my wounds sting. My only white sando and blue shorts were covered with my blood. I looked up to see my father, silently reading the newspaper while drinking a bottle of beer. I wiped the tears escaping my eyes and decided that enough is enough. Why would I continue living this fucked-up life and live with this bastard who only knows to beat me up relentlessly if things wouldn't go his way. It will never do good if I just escape because he's a predator and I'm his prey, he will hunt me and beat me up again and lock me away from the world. I had already experienced what 'freedom' and being 'happy' truly means and I don't want anyone to take it away from me ever again. I wanted to live my life happy and free and not in this shitty rathole.
With the little strength that I still have, I pushed myself up and slowly and silently walked towards my father who was facing his back to me. I grabbed the empty bottle scattered on the floor and raised it and slammed it against his head. He cursed loudly and swiftly spun to me but before he could even stand up, I stabbed him at the stomach with the broken bottle.
STAB. STAB. STAB.
I stabbed him nearly a hundred times letting out all the pent-up anger and emotions I had kept for years. A relieved sigh left my lips as I sat at the other chair and stared at his lifeless body while his blood continued oozing out from his big wounds. I chuckled and leaned at the chair and closed my eyes as euphoria engulfed me.
This night, marks the day where I had already freed myself and end my suffering. After this night, I will be able to live again and start a new life without my abusive father. And like the exotic flower, that my mother used to tell me before, my new self started to bloom and the moon that had already risen, the crickets and frogs that sang and the cold wind were the witness of my reborn.
