(Entry for a short story contest//outside wattpad)
"I'm bleeding."
I wasn't even surprised when you let me see you. You knew that you were about to lose it but you hold on to me once again, treating me like I was your courage you got—I am your hope, and the brighter side.
I asked her, "Do you want to die?"
You faintly smiled and felt the sudden thrill after hearing the word die. You looked at me, hopeless and tired... "No. I just want to go home."
You always believe that you are an angel like everyone else. You always believe that the world is a huge playground for us, wingless angels. You don't want to play anymore. The playground doesn't seem to be a fun place for you, and it never did from the very beginning.
"The thought of going home makes me happy."
Then I saw it again. I looked at you in the eye and it feared me. I saw nothing. You're slowly losing it.
You suddenly smiled at me, but it didn't reach your eyes. "Can we go home?"
I remember how you first understand the word pain. Not that it was the first time you felt it, but because you realized that there were other emotions besides hurting. It was the very first dilemma you had. You started to wonder why those people only let you feel that way. You even questioned yourself if maybe it was you who weren't capable of feeling different.
"Now?" I asked you, feeling unsure.
Them.
There were a lot of things I never understand, including simple things like your name. I never understand why your parents, Narcisso and Ava, named you Malaya Santiago, considering that even your parents never let you feel and stand up for your name.
I remember how your mother hurt you every time she lost money on gambling. Whenever she comes home, and even without you doing anything wrong, she will pull your hair, curse you, or hit you on places she finds unscratched.
"You're a big mistake!" she always said.
She blamed you for not having work and being uneducated because she needed to stop studying for having you. She hated that she needed Narcisso to have money. She hated the fact that she loves money, that she doesn't have enough, and the thought that she doesn't have the capabilities to have her own. She hated the fact that gambling was her last resort.
Narcisso, on the other hand, didn't really care. At a very young age, he already told you that he would never love you and accept you. He made it clear that it's not you or Ava but he has a reputation to maintain that's why he stayed—that's why you have family. Having his surname was a privilege, a golden ticket for a wealthy life. He needed to sacrifice to uphold his family's pride.
Yes, you were the sacrifice.
Your parents made sure that you know you were a mistake and having you is the reason why they were in despair, that their lives would be better if you didn't came. That's why you questioned your existence. You questioned your worth and thought, "If I put my life on sale... will I even worth a penny?"
You always loved your name, but hate it at the same time.
You always loved your parents, but hate them at the same time.
You're not free.
You're not malaya.
