I was seventeen when I left home. I could vividly remember that memory; the day I chose to pack all my things and looked for my own way. I don't want to hurt my parents' feelings since I am their only child, the heiress of whatever possessions they may have; the apple of their eyes and the only daughter who they've raised for seventeen years. I know how much they love me, especially my mom. She's always there for me, but I chose not to stay.
I chose to be silent...
The sun had completed its tour for the day, and was replaced by myriad stars, dotted in the inky canopy. It was a cool, windy night. The swaying of trees and rustling of leaves could be heard but not seen, as the encompassing darkness blotted out all but the faintest light. Everybody was sleeping. Yet I'm wide awake... Inside my room.
The area enclosed with roof and walls which served as my "best friend" had been filled with dirt. Sordid.
Inside that spaciously large and wide room, different things are seen; different things, different sentiments but bitter memories. There you can see the testaments of my accomplishments; proofs that I am an excellent student. Being in a family who valued dignity, they trained me to be a "this and that" person. Yes, I excel academically. Yet myself knows that I'm not proud of it. I will never be.
Over to the far right of my room is a huge polished surface; an image was reflected. It was my reflection. With thick ebony hair, dark eyes framed with long lashes, full lips and a straight nose. High-cheek bones and a glowing porcelain skin. Voluptuous body; shapely and buxom. It was a perfect portrait. Then I remembered what my mother told me,
"You never need to wear makeup. You are perfectly perfect sweetie."
Those sweet words that almost melted my heart. Yes, I am good-looking. She's true. But there is one scar that I can never erase. It makes me ugly. A memory unrepressed laying bare my imperfection.
Then I saw a queen-size cabinet. I walked towards it; started opening it. Then I found myself packing. Slowly. Emptying my cabinet. Then flashes of sordid memories came after a light blue sleepwear fell on the floor. It was the same clothing I wore that night. The night in which I got my scar...
It was midnight. I was fast asleep when I felt a hand on my leg then it was moving. Moving up to my thigh. I started to freeze as his warm breath came towards my neck. I broke out in cold sweat. I cannot move. I know very well that person; his hands, his body. Came into my mouth a word. A pleading word.
"Dad?! What are you..." then he covered my mouth.
"Sshh."
Then he intruded into my being. Leaving me motionless.
**
Tears falling. Trying to forget those unrepressed memory. That morally ugly event. Then I felt the presence of my bed. I lied down for a while; feeling my cushioned pillow. It was the same bed, where it happened. I know for it has blood-stain.
After a few minutes, I started to wipe the tears that were falling.
Then, a framed-picture caught my attention. The faces in that picture showed the emotion of great happiness. A young lady and a man about 40's, smiling; giving a great emphasis on the beautiful background; a perfect cone. It was lovely. I realized that the young lady was me; and I am with my dad. A picture of unblemished gladness.
Slowly, I returned the picture to the table where it was been placed. Then picked my little bag.
Last glance over the room. Then I closed the door.
