Chapter 4.5: (The nightmarish past)
3 days passed People came for her funeral, but my dad wasn't there. My relatives argued about who would take care of me, but no one did. I felt alone, like nobody wanted me.
- He's your sister's kid!
- I have my own family to take care of!
- We don't have space for him in our house!
- You have more money than me, you should support him!
- Why don't you take care of him instead?
While they argued in the other room—voices overlapping, loud, annoyed and angry, as though I were some burden to be passed around—I slipped away quietly. Their words still echoed in my ears, fragments of sentences that cut deeper than they knew.
I went to my room and closed the door behind me, pressing it shut as if I could lock their voices out. I didn't bother to turn on the light. Its the first time that darkness felt safer.
I sat down beside my bed, drawing my knees close to my chest, my forehead resting against them. The faint smell of my mother still lingered in the sheets I get from her room, and it made my chest ache. The only sound in the room was the faint thud of my own heartbeat.
I covered my ears and wished everything would go away. All I could think was, "Mom, where are you?" So many questions, but no answers.
Later, I went to them, carrying a tray with cups of hot coffee. My hands trembled as I tried to keep the cups steady, but I forced myself to smile. My lips felt stiff, the smile weak , but I managed to say.
"I'm... I'm okay here in this house."
The words came out softer than I intended, almost breaking.
Inside, I told myself maybe—just maybe—if I cried less, they might come more often. If I behaved better, if I stayed quiet, if I did the laundry without complaint, cooked meals when they visited, maybe they would ask me to live with them. Maybe they would want to help me. Maybe they would not leave me alone.
But no one stayed. After the funeral, the house emptied as quickly as it had filled, and with it, every promise faded. Faces that had crowded around me with pitying words and heavy sighs disappeared one by one, leaving only the stale scent of incense clinging to the walls.
That day had been my last farewell to my mother. The moment I lowered my eyes before her coffin, it felt as though the earth had swallowed the last light in my world. And when the final handful of soil struck the wooden lid. My heart ached all over again as I fought to hold back my tears.
1 weeks passed after the funeral as I went outside to try to entertain and distract myself. Then I saw the old place where I used to play when I was 3 until 7 now I'm 9.
Now the swings rust.
The park is empty.
The sky is angry and no one tells me it's just noise.
The monsters don't vanish when I wake up. Or tell them to go away.
I fall asleep at my desk, but no one carries me.
I wake up cold.
I eat alone.
No one's there to cheer.
No warm hands wipe my sweat.
No one says they're proud.
No one says happy birthday.
The picture on the wall doesn't wave.
The photograph on the table doesn't clap.
The voices in my memory—they're all I have left.
And even they... They're started fading.
After twenty minutes, I went back to the house and quietly entered my room.
"I miss you..." I whisper to the darkness each night. "I love you. I still do. Both of you. More than anyone in the whole world. Please come back. I'm sorry if I'm too scared. I will not be scared in thunders, in nightmares. Please come back. I'm sorry, I won't be bad. I'm sorry I took a few candies from the jar a few times and lied. I'm sorry I lied when I broke your favorite vase, Mom. I'm sorry I took your pen and lost it, Dad. I'm sorry. I won't be bad. Please come back. I won't cry if I'm lost, or when I fall and get a bruise on my knees. I won't be picky with food anymore. I will clean my toys after I'm done. I will do my laundry on yours too. I will also cook for us. Please come back. Don't leave me. It's cold, it's lonely, it's so quiet. Please come back. I will be good, I promise. Please, let's stop playing hide and seek,"
But the room doesn't answer once again.
And the silence is louder and scarier than the thunder.
"Please I want a hug once more stop playing... don't leave me..."
2 weeks passed, but nothing inside the house changed. Her things stayed where she had left them: a photograph in a cracked frame on top of the cabinet, the familiar stack of shirts folded in the top drawer, the little knife she always used to chop garlic and chile resting in the corner of the kitchen. The room kept the shape of everything — but not my mom presence, her absence filled every space. The house had become unforgiving in silence.
I did not cry at first. I would stand for long minutes, staring at the same objects as if by looking hard enough I could will them into motion. her photo in its frame, her clothes neatly on top of her drawer, the small knife she always used to chop ingredients now resting silently in the corner of the kitchen.
finally, the dam broke. I sank onto the floor with the framed photo in my hands and the drawer's shirt pressed to my cheek, clutching the faint scent of her conditioner like a small, traitorous comfort. I cried until my throat ached,
and found myself repeatedly calling out for my mother, desperate for her presence, but silence was my only answer. Overwhelmed, I struggled to calm down, feeling drained from my constant weeping. "Mom!!! Mom!! Mom! Mom..." until my body had nothing left to give. I slept fitfully afterward, exhausted the picture still clutched to my chest.
No one came to hold me. No one came to wipe my tears. The neighbors stopped dropping by; their condolences came in neat envelopes and awkward smiles, then stopped. The house kept getting quiet, and in that silence a slow understanding settled into me: I was alone.
"that's right... I'm alone now." But still, at the back of my tongue, I questioned myself once again: "Why... is this happening to me? I... I can't understand why..."
If truth is reality... then let me live in lie.
Let me close my eyes and sink into a dream where none of this ever happened.
Where their laughter still down the hallways...
Where the scent of warmth still lingers in the blankets they left behind.
Because if reality means emptiness—
If it means silence, cold dinners, and chairs that no one sits in anymore—
Then I want no part of it.
Let me lie.
Let me pretend that someday... they'll come back.
That the door will creak open, and I'll see them standing there again, smiling like they never left.
Let me believe that I'll feel arms around me once more—
That I'll be held, and not just by memories I can't touch.
I want to trade my reality for a lie... just so I can feel love again.
Just so I can remember what it means to be happy, even if it's only inside a dream.
If truth is cruel...
If truth is what took them away...
Then I choose the lie.
And I'll stay asleep for as long as it takes...
Until love and warmth finds me again—even if only in the world behind my eyelids.
"God if your out there and can hear my prayers please give me someone, anyone... I can lean on to help me go through this."