Spring, summer, fall, and winter. Which is your favorite?

I don’t know, really, I can’t decide. 

Spring portrays its beauty through the melting of the white winter snow, through baby flowers still sleeping in the bud, not ready to be seen. 

Summer, red sun with heat waves rising from the ground. I do not like summer. 

Fall? Everything seemed to die away. The colors of the leaves reminded me of the unpleasant memories. Should I enjoy fall? The season which brought up the terrible scene of humiliation and torture but at the same time brings me cool breezes and colorful forests, I don’t mind it.   

Winter... it’s too cold. 

“1993”

Mom and dad probably met each other around that time, but since I’m not born yet, therefore I don’t know. I had never seen my dad before; the only thing I had from him was a music box of a Santa which I played with since I was two. By the photos, my dad doesn’t look handsome, but his eyes were beautiful matching his dark, thick hair which I have inherited from him. It was... something I’m extremely proud of. 

I was told by my granny that dad had lived with us until I was two and a half, that I just couldn’t remember him. That was true, granny never lied. But why? Where did daddy go? Is he coming back? Does he know I’m missing him? Not once, but several times have I thought about these questions, yet I end with no answers. 

Asking mom would probably be the best choice, but I know, she is even more desperate than I am. After struggling with my own emotions, I decided to lock these questions up in the deepest place of my heart. 

Then I was only four. 

“October 2003” I am 16. 

“Mo...om, are you burning somthin in kitchen? I smell it”

No answer. So, I yelled again. Still, no one replied. I got on my slippers and walked to the kitchen. 

“There!” Mom yelled, “happy happy happy birthday! You’re finally sixteen! Quick, make a wish!” My thoughts ran fast. The question I had for twelve years; I want an answer. 

“Mom,” I said hesitantly, “I wish...” I blinked. 

“Yeah?”

“Oh, mom I’m so happy! Thank you! I just only wish we can stay together forever and happy...” I swallowed the lump in my throat and told myself: I am supposed to be happy. Do not bring up sadness.

At school, I was nothing special. I have no friends to greet me. I had been in wonder since I enter this school. What was the difference I had with these students that resulted in me being left out? Clothes, no, I wore the same as they do, and my clothes are clean and nicely ironed. Hair, although I have dark hair, I wasn’t special in my school either. Grades, I will never get below A-, so that must be acceptable compared to others. I don’t know, this is difficult, we’re basically the same. 

After school that day I was called by a group of girls to a silent path only a five-minute walk from school. 

“Hey ya dum dum. Whassup?” the girl with smooth blond hair walked towards me accompanied by a group of other ladies. 

“Birthday girl, huh?” another asked, smirking, “want som presents?”

“Oh-no…no, thanks, I’m fine.” I stuttered and tried my best to turn and walk away.

“Where you goin? I’m giving you a present, don’t be so disrespectful! Turn around!” She commanded sharply.

Slowly, I turned, with my hands covering my face, afraid they would spill anything on my face as they did before with boiled water and a cup of cappuccino. 

Nope, this time, they didn’t. Instead, they pulled my hair back and kicked me hard on my legs. One by one, they circled me and laughed at the ridiculous sight. No one was there to help. The next ten minutes were indescribable. I don’t want to mention it. The girls left me lying almost dead on the grass. The blood from my shoulder and knee gushed out continuously. I tried my best to sit up, but it was no use. 

Yes, I gave up. I lay there thinking, what have I done. The falling leaves above me turned reddish-brown and dried up as soon as it touches me. 

I did not believe in bad luck, but this time, I was forced to. Through a momentary flash, the blurred memory of Dad flashed across my mind. His face, clearly, appeared in front of my eyes. I tried my best to make a sound or even possibly call him “dad”, but my face was swollen, and my lips can hardly move. 

Tears… tears I cannot tell whether from joy or pain gushed out from my eyes. For my sixteen years of life, I had been wishing to see my dad. Every morning I got up looking into the mirror saying, “Dad! I haven’t seen you in years! Where did you go?” The sentences I practiced for so many years, why… why can’t I just tell him. 

Slowly I closed my eyes. 

Dad, I missed you. You have been a missing piece of my life. You never fulfilled my wishes. Now, I just wish you would take me away with you. Before I knew anything about you, I thought you were selfish. I’m so sorry. Dad, I know there isn’t bad luck. God is there. He is watching. But please dad, tell me, why do I have to go through all these. Dad! My knees hurt so bad. Dad! I can’t move, daddy, come and carry me please! Dad! 

The sob made my ribs hurt, but the fear of death made me even more painful. Slowly, the gap between each breath was getting longer. 

At last, I cannot feel anything.