Huge. Whitish. And very, very long, running down my back. I always sighed when I see that permanent scar stamped on me like a tattoo of a white snake, especially when I wanted to take a bath. Once a while, it brings me back to the bittier bit of my yester years…
*
“Hey, Janice! Happy Birthday!” My best friend, Oswald, called out with a beaming face. He handed me a small box wrapped in gold present paper, tied with a silver ribbon. I smiled and accepted it.
“Coming to my party tonight, Oswald?” I asked after putting the present into my bag. He nodded. Oswald is not much of a talker but his smile is pleasant, like a glowing rose in the early dawn. I bid him goodbye after reminding him to wear something nice and smart for my birthday party. Later, as soon as he was out of sight, I opened my tiny present. I was surprised to see a silver ring studded with a heart-shaped diamond greeting me. How sweet! Oswald always thought of everything. I decided to wear it at the party and show it off to all my peers.
As I settled myself on the bus home, I started to imagine what it would be like at home once the party starts: People gathering around the living room, decorations hanging all over the ceiling, paper graffiti stuck on the wall reading ‘Happy Birthday, Janice’, my mother baking my favourite chocolate moist or ‘Black Forest’ cake, present stacking up on the table, etc, etc, etc…And after the guests have left, I imagine myself opening up the presents, revealing a Gucci handbag, a Pokemon digi-pet, a full set of my favourite comic series…I was so engrossed in my happy thoughts that I did not know what was coming.
When I reached home feeling very excited about the coming party, I checked the name lists twice to see if I have forgotten any of my friends before I entered the front door. Feeling satisfied, I opened the door wide and with a beaming voice, called out, “I’m home!”
Silence. No one greeted me back. No graffiti on the wall. No decorations on the ceiling. No presents. Nothing. The only thing (or person) there was a bunch of people looking back at me with those dark, solemn expressions on their faces. They were my parents, siblings and some of my relatives sitting there like burning volcanoes. Looking at me like I was some kind of monster. I don’t know what happened, but I regained my composure to prove that I had done nothing wrong, whatever it might be.
“Janice, come here, we need to talk,” my father gestured me to come over to the living room. I obeyed, my heart still feeling weird and restless. When I got close enough, I was about to ask what was going on when my father suddenly stood up and slapped me. I was stunned, so stunned that I could not speak. Why did you slap me, father? What have I done? You never did this to me before, no matter what wrong I have done. Why, of all days, you do this to me now…
“You useless girl! You don’t deserve to celebrate your birthday!” Father bellowed at me in front of everybody. As I rubbed my burning cheek, he threw a packet of white powder at me and told me that he’d found it in my drawer that morning before he left for work. He accused me of taking drugs and forced me to confess, followed by the rest of the family, including my beloved mother. How could he accuse me of something I did not do? And worse, he did not even try to investigate! I remained silent, which resulted in another slap.
It was raining outside, the drops of rain falling like the tears in my eyes. Thunder clashed and boomed, signifying how angry I was as I turned to face my family.
“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do anything! Why do you have to hit me? Why didn’t you investigate? Why can’t you trust your own daughter?! This is the worst birthday of my life!!”
More and more tears of anger and shame ran down my cheeks as I dashed out of the house. I hate them, I hate them, I HATE THEM ALL!!!!! I cursed them one by one as I let myself out to the open road.
Suddenly, I heard someone calling, “Look out!” I turned and saw something big coming towards me. It hit me and sent me flying through the air. I saw blood—my blood—squirted out in the mid-air, splattered all over the road. I saw Oswald’s face in front of me. He was wearing what I had expected him to wear. Then darkness…
In the midst of my unconsciousness, I heard my parents’ voices. I heard my father and my uncle and my aunt blaming themselves. I was still a bit angry with them at first. But then I found out that it was actually my cousin’s big brother, the one who was always bullying me when I was a kid, who sneaked into my room at dawn through my window to hide that packet of drugs when he was chased by the police who caught him buying it from a drug-dealer. I even heard Oswald shouting at him and punching him, creating havoc in the hospital. I was so happy and relieved that I wanted to open my eyes and embrace my folks, but I was unable to do so. My whole body was so heavy, as if there’s a huge boulder on me, holding me down. I heard my parents crying. I felt so terrible. Am I about to die? I can’t die! Not on my birthday! I’m not ready to leave this world. I want to live!
Miraculously, I survived. Throughout the whole month of my stay at the hospital, I finally understood how much my family loved me. I remembered the day I finally woke up, I saw my parents sleeping on the couch beside my bed. I felt guilty at how much they have aged since I was unconscious. I saw Oswald sleeping beside my bed, looking so handsome yet innocent. I was surprised to realize that this was the first time I’ve seen him like this although we’ve been friends for so long. He cared for me, everybody cared for me. I told myself that I would thank them properly after my recovery. I really must go on living so that I can repay them for what I owed them. I learnt that I broke my arm and skinned my forehead, and even got my back stabbed by a large fragment of the windscreen of the van that hit me. Ouch! Luckily I was not paralyzed.
During the last day of my stay, I finally noticed that birthday ring Oswald gave me was on my finger. My brother explained with a sly tone that Oswald slipped it on after I came out of the emergency room. I also found out that my cousin’s brother was in jail. My heart ached for all the trouble he’d caused me but I don’t like to be a grudge-holder. I forgave him, including my father. He played a part of giving me everything, including my life, so I have no reason to hate him anymore. I was just glad it was all over.
*
“What are you thinking about, my dear?”
The sound of Oswald’s voice brought me back to reality. I smiled and showed that white scar to him.
“Not that again. When are you going to let bygones be bygones?” It was obvious that he was tired of me being sentimental and everything.
“Nothing, honey. It’s just a memory. Remembering it is not a crime, is it?” I grinned at him mischievously.
He sighed and shook his head, “Come along now, dear. Or you’ll be late for your birthday dinner.”
I slipped into my dinner gown, the type that is non-backless and covers up my scar and walked out of the bathroom, holding Oswald’s hand.
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