***(?)
"Well? Can you finally say you're proud of me?" (Dad)
Hesitation welled up in my heart, though not from the same reason as before. Realising so, the lips naturally stretched into a crescent arc. I couldn't help but bare my pearly whites in exorbitant joy. After all, reality in front of me felt like an ephemeral dream. It was a mere fantasy only a year ago. My hands grasped his tightly, as if trying to affirm that what I'm seeing and hearing right now is real.
The gentle sunlight sunk into every bit of grass around our picnic mat, my legs bathing in its comforting warm light as I shook my toes from left to right in idyllic amusement. Mum was also there, she sat on the opposite side of father, with her on my left and him on my right. It was rather rare that we get to enjoy each other's company like this, it felt like an irreducible treasure. No one could ruin my happiness at this moment.
I stared at the foggy clouds, hiding the blinding light skillfully as if it was their job to do so in helping set the picnic environment. Occasionally that blinding light would peak out in some cracks between clouds. At those times, I catch a glimpse...
***
How.... How did this happen. Before my eyes were a blinding flame that had engulfed everything. Ah... I knew it would never last... Even if everything went my way... The world wouldn't accept my happiness...
***
I was in a dimly lit room, we didn't have enough to money to pay the electric bills... I sat in my usual corner, above my worn out mattress. It was thinning and hard to sleep in, but all that I had left.
*Click*
A noise I grew to hate and fear, it marked my father's return back home. To be frank, he was a gambling addict. It was no surprise that he caused the family to be wrecked in debt. But that wasn't the most insidious part. It was this.
"Ahh!?!!" (Mum)
*crack*
The screams continued for a solid 10 minutes, the more she resisted, the more violent he would get. Yet she retained her pride, she would never stop fighting back. Because if she did... I may be next. That much was obvious even to me, who knew what father was thinking though. Maybe he really was preoccupied with abusing mother like a thoughtless animal, or his grip on his own sanity and discipline was gradually slipping regardless of his will. In any case, this was still not it.
"AHHHH!!!?!!!! I'M SORRYYYY!!!! I'M SO SORRY!!!!! I DIDN'T MEAN IT, I PROMISE I'LL DO BETTER!!!!? DON'T LEAVE MEEEEE!!!!" (Dad)
His basically routine wailing, his begging for salvation as if anyone could grant it to him at this point... His pitiful and pathetic cries... I hated all of it. It's at these moments where I want to sock him a good one in the face. You commit so much horrors and you think an apology will cut it? You think begging will help the family financial problem? Would me forgiving you help you find a job!!?!
In any case, I continue to avoid contact with him. Once he's home, I won't come out. Not even to go to the loo. It's dreadful... I feel so bad for sacrificing mum like this... But...
"Hey, I can't do this anymore. I've already called the necessary authorities." (Mum)
"... HAH!?! WHO DO YOU THINK GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DO THAT!?!!" (Dad)
"... You. How many times do you think this has happened? I'm not gonna live for much longer or be around for you to mess with if I die. "(Mum)
"..." (Dad)
In rare moments, he quietens down. But this was the most scariest as we were unable to discern his mood then. Was he mad? Was he regretting his actions? What was he thinking? He simply looks on at Mum as if he was seeing some faraway place. Maybe this was the source of my discomfort. Realising I had to tip toe around someone else's feelings. My life depended on it, I wished things never became like this.
For this purpose! For my purpose! For my life. I grabbed the kitchen knife that hasn't been used or washed in weeks, it's viscous grimy externality slowly sliding down the side as I held it up with shaky hands. His eyes are focused on mother, I wonder how many times I've done this now? How many times I've waited for him to face the perfect direction. This isn't the first time at all, it just happened to be the final time.
I sneaked behind him, my small 14 year old finger were emaciated so it was difficult for them to clasp around the handle securely. The weight of the rusting metal felt heavy in my palms, I barely survived. Tasting a meal once a day was considered lucky, originally I lost the will to even get out of bed. So I was weak, absurdly weak. 2 years? It's been so long, since this has started. The lights are no longer on at night, most of the furniture has been sold. This house is lifeless. I'm not one take my own life, this was definitely Dad's fault for taking everything away from me.
Thrusting the knife at his back... An unfamiliar hand grabs the blade tightly before the tip reaches Dad. With the strength of a malnourished child, the best I could do was scratch the hand in front of me, even with a knife. Before a drop of blood hit the ground, another hand snatched the knife from my hand easily and hid it. Mum and Dad turn their heads to face the stranger. It was a civil worker from child protection services, he looked like a middle aged man with brown hair and mustache. The deep creases welled up on his forehead as he gaze back with a serious expression.
Even his palms were more wrinkly than mine. They looked so thick I wonder if his hand was just fine even after snatching my knife. He had quickly dropped it into his cloth bag, a small rustling sound raised from its fall. But my parents were none the wiser. Dad didn't resist much. For the most part, he kept quiet and walked with the man with deep sunken eyes. His footsteps slowly fading off into the distance, an odd sense of comfort returned to my heart. Security. I always felt like I was in danger as long as he was in the house, I could never sleep well or relax.
A team of workers came in right after Dad was taken away, they were on standby in cased anything had happened, not that they were allowed to be armed. They were merely volunteers that readied their phones to call the police department in charge of domestic cases. I was even taken to live in a seperate place where I could resume school again.
Dad went to a rehabilitation centre of sorts while serving a light sentence of communal service, but had mandatory programmes that take up all his time. Mum was left alone in the house and some funds were sent monthly to support her jobless, and widow from incarceration status. It took 7 months for there to have any contact between us and Dad. He called the homeline through the rehabilitation centre's phone. He said he was waiting to getting better before contacting us, and that he finally felt that he progressed enough to hold up a conversation. The days went by idly without him around.
9 months into the rehabilitation. The caretaker at the rehabilitation centre called to inform us that it's safe to visit him. They've taken into account cases where their patient descends into madness before. We would be visiting behind a glass wall. It was not much different from prison, but when we got there it was strangely lit up. His expression no longer had such deep sunken eyes where the wrinkles gathered around his eye sockets. He seems to have really gotten better, though creases of the past remain around his eyelids. His entire face brightened up when he saw us, a tinge of fear was still cradled in Mum's cheeks.
I have no idea what's going on with him, but the last time I saw him I was trying to kill him. Would I really be able to forgive him so easily? And for what reason? Mere rehabilitation? For **** sake, I was contemplating about taking his life at all cost...
No, rather than contemplating I had already resolved myself to cut him off emotionally. When mother asked if I wanted to visit, I wasn't able to give a definitive answer. Since there would be this glass wall to keep us safe, we thought that perhaps checking on him would help make this decision. Are we really ready to welcome him back into our lives?
Perhaps noticing all of this dark muddled thoughts swimming around our conscious, he decided to apologise on the spot.
"I'm sorry. I at least wanted to say that before you never see me again. I won't expect the two of you to accept my apology, in fact it would be normal for you to just outright reject me.
I just want to say, I'm sorry for everything I've done for the past 3 years. I'll do my best to be better in the meantime. "(Dad)
No. I won't waver....
I did not waver. In the end it was a result that I was most surprised off. 2 months right after, 11 months into the rehabilitation. An earthquake had happened nearby, in my fear I went to check up on Dad at the rehabilitation centre. I desperately ran, images of his death flashing across my mind. In the end, he was just fine, albeit shaking vigorously from the massive quaking landmass under us. My fingers shivered and I couldn't tell whether it was from fear or concern. It was so hard to move in that mess that my knees buckled on the spot, but somehow Dad moved. He reached close to me and put his arm around my bag in a light embrace, it was a warmth I hadn't felt in a long time. I no longer knew what to think about him. But I knew my hatred was faltering...
Then, perhaps it was time to move on. He was discharged a week later and we spent the remaining 3 weeks until now trying what we couldn't do before. Family picnics, cinema outings, trying restaurant gourmet, park visiting. He was desperately trying his best to make up for the 3 years, even if he knew that it was in vain. Mother still flinched whenever she hears his footsteps. Unless she knew that he was there beforehand, she would show an adverse reaction from the clattering of his shoes alone.
Were these the happiest times of my life? No... They can never replaced what came before... What came before the 3 years of hell. I would still much prefer to be in those times where I couldn't observe these ugly scars on my parents. When I was naive and had not a single thought or care about the world. When my world was so childishly simply and complexity didn't exist. It was so carefree, so liberating and warm.
What these 3 weeks were to me were also different things for my parents. It was a coping mechanism for Dad, a therapy for Mum,and I was the judge of it all. Because you'd do anything for your kid to have a normal life right? No matter how much work he puts into it, it wouldn't remove the amount of time that I required to get accustomed to school again, make friends again, form a routine again.
Maybe my grievances when stated like this sound very petty to what my Mum has gone through... I have no excuse for that. I simply would not accept this new fate as 'normal'.
Then came the final day. It wasn't anything eventful like anyone thinks. A fire had broken out in my neighbours house, razing a row of houses and my neighbour's bodies to the ground. The fire was allowed to spread this far because it was nighttime and no one was awake to respond to it. My Dad ran in to check in me, and the ceiling collapsed. I begin to feel the heat surrounding our house on all sides of the walls.
The foundation broke and the pillars could no longer support the upper half of the structure. The ceiling fragmented and was about to fall on me when my father pushed me over. Unfortunately, during the rehabilitation he had expressed symptoms of chronic depression. He couldn't eat properly and would vomit his food out when he forced himself to.
It left him emaciated and weak, and these three weeks weren't enough for him to fix up all those months of muscle atrophy. So he couldn't push me that much as I fell onto the ground. In the heat of the moment, he actually fell on me, his limbs pushing against the ground like a beast. Though the same couldn't be said about his physical strength. The enormous chunk of ceiling concrete fell, striking his back with unbelievable force. A cracking sound and a depreciating smile could be observed on his face.
I thought that perhaps, with time I would get used to this. I thought that I would try and get used to the new Dad, so that everyone would be happy again. I thought that there was a happy future with us... I saw a future... And I regret not having grasped at it desperately while I can...
So I vowed. I awakened as a magical girl at that moment and vowed. To secure everyone's future, I'll run myself ragged. So that no one else ends up like Dad.