The Scars

I cursed Kevin for what he did to me, locking me in this old storeroom. As far as I knew, this place was no longer used to store the sport kits or handcrafts the students created. The ambiances emitted a mystical and eerie aura. The spider webs decorated the wall and the door. On the other side, the broken chairs and tables which spread around the room successfully turned this place overwhelmed.    

    

I loathed darkness. Darkness made me hard to take a breath. I never gave up yelling for help from anyone outside. I hoped the miracles came to my life at this moment. I hoped someone found me here in this place.    

    

From afar, I heard someone called my name. Her voice became louder and louder. The voice didn’t come from one person. I felt relieved. At least, I would be safe if someone realized that there was someone desperately needing a help here. Slowly but sure, the white light gleamed on my face and dazzled my eyes for a while. I shielded my eyes with my hands.    

    

“Ilana,” I was startled and woke up from a nightmare. Sweats flooded my forehead. And some dripped from my hair. “You seem having a nightmare,” one of them told me. I was still in the car when I was fully awake. I let out a sigh.    

    

“Yes. It was a really nightmare.” The girl with short hair handed me a tumbler containing mineral water. I gulped it until the last drop.    

    

“Are you okay?” She looked worried as a reaction to what I did, finishing the water in a big tumbler. I just nodded as a response. She pulled her lips to form a sweet smile. This girl was kind and caring even though we just knew each other tonight.    

    

I initiated the conversation with her until the car stopped near the alley to get to my house. After biding a farewell, I went to my house which was still a three hundred meters a head. This area was still awake. Its people’s voice and laughter filled the night of Jakarta which was always bright. The people’s laughter here represented neither excitement nor contentment. It was a mask to hide the sorrow. I had to admit I admired those who still spread smile over their face even though their heart wept. At least they knew the way how to be grateful.    

    

My house was sultry as always. My mother probably had slept while my father wasn’t at home at this hour. He didn’t go home sometimes. That was better for his homing only inflicted heartache for us.    

    

I carefully turned the key and pushed the door. This not-so-tall dark object creaked softly. I had my own key to enable me to get inside easily. We didn’t have a fixed schedule so that we didn’t know the time we might be home. My mother spent most of her time working out, doing anything to survive. She didn’t even have time to rest except few hours at night.    

    

My mother had snored when I arrived. That grieved woman looked more saddened in her sleep. I was sometimes wondering how she could bear this pathetic life.    

    

“Are you home, Ilana?” I was aghast. My mother had sat behind me. I just gave her a nod as a respond yes. “Have a sleep.” Then she toppled her body to the cold thins carpet.    

    

I felt mirthless every time seeing my mother’s wrinkled face in her deep sleep. It clearly depicted the burden of her life.. She suffered inside her heart more than it looked outside. Her struggle really showed what a strong woman she was that couldn’t be compared to me or any women I recognized.    

    

I was still eyeing at my mother’s unmoved body with her flared nose every time she caught breath. The harsh knock on the door shocked me. I stroke my chest to conceal my heartbeat. It had been mid night. The people should have rested at this time. Who the hell was out there?    

    

The knock sounded more and more forceful. It was as though someone impatiently wanted to break the door and storm into the house. I had no idea what the urgency that he or she did it at this late.    

    

I peeped out through the small ventilation. The tottering figure revealed who he was. It was my father with one hand gripped on the beer’s bottle. He pommeled that empty green bottle to the door with his mouth shut. I heard no yell as he usually did when he got home after wandering around the city. It seemed he was just half awake. He rested his head on the door.    

    

I got back to the carpet where I usually slept and pulled over a thin blanket to cover my body. My fear of my father’s coming defeated the cold that nibbled my skin and bone. With all worries, I cuddled myself under the thin fabric and covered my ears.    

    

The knock stopped drumming the door in the next few minutes. My father might give up or even fell fainted. I heard only silence until I fell asleep.    

    

My eyes were half open yet my ears caught something, even a huge thing striking the wall harshly. Sobbing and screaming welcomed me from my short sleep. That drama I was used to watching had been replayed before my eyes. I was sick of all of this. However, nothing I could do to turn it off. My fathers treated us like a hell.    

    

I risked myself protecting my mother from my father’s kick and slap. The pain almost knocked me down. Driven by hate instilled in my heart, I cared no for whatever he did to me. No tears trickled down from my eyes. If I were to die today, I would accept it.    

    

A few strands of my hair had been pulled out of their place. My lips bled. Red liquid flowed through the corner of my mouth. My legs and hands ached to the point I couldn’t explained. The torment was hurt indeed yet witnessing my mother crying out was way more hurtful. My father ... his sent me his last kick before he finally surrendered and left.    

    

With all my heartache, I consoled my mother who still locked herself in silence even after my father vanished behind the door. As always, I cleaned all the mess while shedding my tears. My mother still sat where she was. I didn’t see the tears on her plain face.    

    

“Mom...Please say something. Please tell me that you are alright or hurt or any feeling you have inside. Please speak. Scold me or do whatever you want but silence.” I begged her who was still staring blankly at the wall in front of her. I hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry.”    

    

“What are you sorry for?” A line of relief stretched on my lips hearing her tremble voice. At least she said something. “No need to say sorry. It is not your fault, after all.” She hugged me back tighter. “Don’t do that again. You will ruin your body. You know your father was merciless,” she continued. I gave no response.    

    

I took my leave to school after cleaning all the mess my father created. That had become my routine for the last two years. I tied my messy long hair in a ponytail while walking to school since I had no time to even comb it at home.    

    

The journey to school had taken a half hour. It still took about fifteen minutes to reach the school gate. Someone greeted me with his deep voice. I turned my head. His existence made me jolted back. What would be destined for me this time? This area was desolated.