I wondered why I was born, what my purpose was, and why I was given life if I wasn't going to find happiness or live a happy life. If my smiles were going to be washed away in a little while, if my dreams and wishes would remain unfulfilled, then why was I born?
I remembered when my mom used to read me stories. She would always stroke my hair, and a warm smile would rest on her face. Then, my dad would enter my room with a guitar in his hands. He would dance around, his dance steps always making both of us laugh. He would sing a soothing tune that made me happy. He and my mom would sit by my side and watch me slowly close my eyes until I fell asleep.
That night was different. My dad wasn't the happy man he used to be. My mom's smile wasn't there, and all I saw was pain and anguish. My dad was still firmly squeezing my throat, and I was running out of air. His face was filled with anger, and it was a fearful sight to behold. Was I going to be killed by my dad?
My eyes slowly opened, and I saw a woman sitting beside me. She was stroking my hair, and her face was blurry, but I felt her presence. "Was I dead? Is mom by my side?" I thought, struggling to get a better glimpse of the woman beside me. I tried opening my eyes widely, but I couldn't. I felt weak, as if my whole body was frozen.
I gave a final push and saw her – it was Miss Cathy. I saw her worried expression, and her eyes were teary. She stared at me with care and concern. "Ma..." I slowly said. "No, dear, don't stress yourself," Miss Cathy said, covering my mouth.
I saw my mother's face in Miss Cathy's, and it took me back to the time when I was terribly sick. My mom didn't leave my side; she slept beside me and watched over me. I didn't have to lift a finger. Every night when I couldn't sleep, she was by my side. Every morning when I opened my eyes, she was always there with a morning smile on her face.
Aside from those days, anytime I needed her, she was always there. Miss Cathy was the same. Ever since the day she took me in, she always watched over me. Anytime I looked into her eyes, I remembered my mother... but why? Why did I told you that I want to end my life? I didn't get the childhood I wanted, but Miss Cathy is filling in the void. She's doing her best to make me happy, to put a smile on my face. Then why do I keep hearing this voice inside my head? Why do I keep remembering the past? Why can't I forget those bad experiences I had? Why do they keep taunting me? Why can't I find peace?
"Dear..." Miss Cathy said, "I remember the day when I saw you. I wondered what a little girl was doing all by herself in the cold night. From afar, I could feel the pain you were in. I could feel the sorrow you had inside of you. And when you started harming yourself, I couldn't bear it, Mia. I just had to stop you... And look now, you've grown since that time. You've been under my care for three years now, and I have never..."
Miss Cathy's words always gave me comfort. Whenever I was with her, I never felt empty inside. Whenever she spoke, I felt happy and joyful. Her voice reminded me of my mother; she never made me feel lonely, and she was always by my side.
"Dear," she continued, "I'm really worried about you. Why do you always want to harm yourself? Why, dear? What's bothering you? What's pushing you to the wall? That's all I want to hear from you, Mia. You've never spoken about your past; you always keep yourself in isolation. On rare occasions, you smile and laugh, and I want more of that, Mia. I want you to be happy. I want to always see you smiling, and I want to heal the wounds in your heart. I just want to know what's bothering you."
I struggled to answer her question, unsure of what was pushing me to the edge. "Mia, it's okay if you're not ready to share it with me now," Miss Cathy said. "You can tell me anytime. I just want you to feel better and safer."
As she stood up from the bed, I couldn't bear to watch her leave without saying something. But what if I told her about my childhood? Would she still love me the way she does now, or would everything change? Would her gentle touch, comforting smile, warm embrace, and care vanish? Would the Miss Cathy I knew start hating me? The more I pondered these questions, the closer Miss Cathy got to the door.
"Ma'am," I said in a low tone. Miss Cathy turned back, hurriedly rushing to my bedside and sitting beside me. "Yes, dear," she said.
"Please never abandon me," I said. "No one has ever cared for me the way you do. I see my mother's eyes in yours, and I don't ever want that to change. Please never leave me."
These words poured out of my mouth, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her about my childhood experiences. The horror of every incident after that night haunted me, and I couldn't share it with anyone.
"Dear, I will never leave your side," Miss Cathy said. "I promise you, Mia. Since you see me as your mother, you're my daughter, and a mother never abandons her child."
Miss Cathy wrapped her arms around me, and tears dropped down my cheeks as she hugged me. The words "my daughter" melted my heart. My mom used to call me that, and now Miss Cathy considered me hers. What more could I ask for? Miss Cathy didn't repeat the question she asked earlier; she just sat beside me and hugged me for the rest of the day.