Chapter 1. The seed of darkness
In my naÔve years, I overheard someone said that human intention of life is finding and falling in love. For a long time, I had believed in that drama theory and almost been stunned by finding my missing puzzle. As some gaudy poets usually write, there must be someone waiting for you out there, the one was born for you and lives just because of you (write down these words still makes me shiver). However, you know, Iím not going to tell a fairy tale or a romance. Itís life! And life always enjoys to drive you around until your miserable dream chokes to death. Unfortunately, that happened to me earlier even than I started to think about it.
I was born originally in a poor family with one brother Chanze, two other sisters Shelly and Jeasy. As the youngest one, they always try to tell me how lucky I am but Iím not sure itís lucky or luckless. My mom, Ms. Wisey, is a stout woman with her hair done high up in a knot. She owns not very big eyes but sharp and cold, the eyes of predatory animals. Itís said that eyes are the window of soul, perhaps thatís right somehow for her. My Ms. Wisey is a severe and old-fashion mother who has believed that love is always tortured. Therefore, she chose to teach her son and daughters by whip and scolding.
As nature as it was, my life had got harder even before I could read or write. It happened when I was around three years old. That was a peaceful night. The weather was extraordinarily cool, which was so different from the hot stuffiness as usual. It made me in high spirit whenever I felt the cold dry air running from my noise, around my body. With a cup of single-flavour ice-cream for dessert, I could feel it full of my soul and body, the happiness. I laughed presently while I was touching the like-ice floor. I wanted to feel more, the numb cold from my fingers. Consequently, I lied down on the floor, tried to touch it as much as I can. I loved that cold feeling slinking in every inch of my skin.
ďCrash!Ē Ė My foot accidentally ran into the glass of ice-cream.
I suddenly stood up and stared at the sparkle, mush liquid gradually spreading out on the floor. For a second, my three-year-old brain was just totally empty. Later on, my mom got into the living room. I did not know how her face changed when she saw that, I was busy looking at the ice-cream running.
ďWhat the hell did you do! You know how much is it!Ē Ė Her shout pulled me back to the present.
However, I didnít know what I should do or say to her. I stood there staring at her with innocence. The muscles on her face shrunk and turned into red. I can see that, there was something firing in her eyes, which made me thrill.
As a punishment, she took off my clothes to clean up the floor. But I still stood there with a naked body and my mind as well. For a while, I thought I could hear the flowing sound of time. The atmosphere around me became silent as death.
Abruptly, she rose and clutched my twist. Her eyes were burning. She dragged me out, towards the darkness beyond the door. I could see the scenery glided pass me, and the light sank progressively without a trace. She hauled at the gate, pulled me out and blocked it.
Everything just happened too fast before I could catch it. In one minute or two, when the cold was not amusing anymore, I started recognize the fear. I tried to cover my tiny body by hands and cringed. My body trembled violently, not because of the cold but because of terror. I was frightened that someone could see me, a bare and feeble creature. The night is not as pleasant as you imagine. It just quietly gnaws at every nerve in your head. Itís something that you can hear standing just right after your back, but whenever you turn around, you will never be able to see it. Did I cry? A lot. My eyes were full of tears and I could not help myself to look around in frighten. Perhaps from that moment, I have comprehended why Eva too desired to be opened her eyes.
Two years later, to prepare for my first year at school, Wisey decided to teach me how to read and write. I was extremely excited. Before, I used to watch my sister doing her homework, just stood there, beside her, although I didnít understand any single word. Then I hid in the back yard, with a stick I found somewhere, I tried to write down, something. Obviously, I could write nothing but scrawling lines. But, I felt like there was no word could be able to express my feeling.
However, joy didnít last too long. Sometimes I think, it just comes across to laugh at my dull life. At the first day of my lesson, my mom tried to keep the pencil correctly in my right hand. Poor me! Iím a left-handed. Therefore, just like other left-handed people, I found much more easier writing with my left hand. I got struggle with both my right hand and the pencil as well. Itís like you have a feeling to draw something, but when you start to do it, the pencil just goes by its own without noticing you. Wisey, she was staring at me while I fought against the pencil. Nevertheless, sheís not a kind of patient creature, she got mad at me.
Until now, I cannot understand what would be
the problems if I wrote by left hand. Perhaps she was worried that I would
become different from other students in my class. You know, people are
naturally scared of being different in someway. Thatís the reason why you didnít
have the courage to raise your hand in class or didnít stand out for a poor pupil
who was bullied. Itís not because you didnít want to, but you scared to. However, there were so many things made me outside of my folk that right or left hand didn't matter that much.