FACELESS

Chapter 18

I was once innocent.

I was once innocent, and I believed the good in people. I believed that when my mother dragged the 'whip' (a duster that resembles a long umbrella, except it's covered in colourful feathers.) across my skin, drawing blood. And then she would return it into the hands of our maid – who always stood at a corner, at the edge of my eyes as the whip went down on my back. My mother never touched the whip unless it was for punishing me, and our maid would receive it back, head bowed down, while I would had collapsed on my knees, gasping and choking with pain clouding my mind. I was once innocent where I believed the good in people. I believed that my mother punishing me was because she loved me, and that the maid didn't defend me, or help me back to my room, was because she has her own reasons, but she must love me, too – After all, she made my breakfast, and cleaned my room. And as I sat alone in my bedroom, rubbing ointment to cool down the burning wounds caused by my mother, I would think to myself: "It's my fault."

Because I would ignore the bad in people, and focus on the good.

When I was in school, I would reply: "Yes?" when someone called my name, so I could appear and of course, be polite. I don't say "What?" because when I was younger, I began to think that it was a rude word to say to someone who just wanted to inquire you about something. So, I switched my word to 'Yes?" but actively, constantly, and consciously telling myself what to say, and what to not. By constantly putting myself in other people's shoes, in conversations when someone spoke, I thought of what I said and imagined how if I was that person, how my words would had affected them. 

At first it was tiring, and I understood why so many people spoke their mind before thinking – It takes time, energy and effort to do it. To think, to always envision the conversation and other people a few seconds before others. Why would people put themselves through with effort, when they could just say whatever they want? Words are just words. Until they aren't.

-

Rumors began to spread in school, as it does. It is human nature to be curious, to be wanting to know what is going on, who and what is doing what? They would laugh, and then point to a girl at the corner, minding her own business, and whisper to my ears, "Aren't you her friend?" I would pause, contemplating in what to say, and then: "Yes. Why?" And they would laugh, and make a sound of pity under their breath, and give each other a glance, then whisper in unison: "I feel bad for you, how can you stand her?" I will never forget the look in their eyes. The look of despise, mockery and disdain. I imagine myself, the girl at the corner instead.

I would think to myself at that time, if I could conform to what was being said about the person, and bring their reputation down even more, or I could, as a friend, be somewhat of an anchor and shield. I decided on the latter.

And that was the turning point.

"No, I'm sure she's fine." I had laughed. "She can be overwhelming at times, yeah, but she's a great person. Maybe she comes off a little rude or obnoxious but if you get to know her, she's actually very nice."

Then they would stare at me. One second, two second... Then, in unison, they would frown their lips, and let out a chuckle, eyebrows twisted together in a way of sarcasm.

"Okaaaaay, sure."

And then they leave. Because there's nothing else worth talking about now, and their curiosity is no longer piqued by a girl like them smashing down on the gossips and rumours they could had told me about. I believed in the good of people. When people spoke to me about a certain girl or boy, and the ugly sentences that followed – I defended them. I was sure that everyone had good in them, and what goes around comes around. I took pride on being kind, even when the world wasn't to me.