The Scars

The rushing footsteps shrieked behind me; once I turned around, a glistening moving object in the dim light triggered apprehension in the corner of my heart, prompting me to wonder what it was.

The rustling wind and the black-turning leaves in my surroundings created a more terrifying atmosphere that sent shivers up my spine. My brain warned me to flee the danger that might lurk behind the blanket of the night yet my feet were firmly planted in their place, defeated by my fear.

"W-who's t-there?" A trembling yell of words from my mouth cracked the silence of the dusk and stopped the human being-like object a few feet away at my rear.

"Do not worry. I am one of your classmates and have no bad intentions for you."

The man's voice confessed as my friend broke the fear of my surroundings.

"Why are you stalking me? Are you a pervert?

"No...no...it is not like what you are thinking about? I..."

"You better leave." My harsh, sudden response cut him off in his tracks. I didn't wait any longer, forcing my feet to collide with the pebbles paving the dark road under the dim moonlight

"My name's Reno. You are Ilana, right?" His yell of mentioning his name meant nothing to my ears other than the breeze that caressed my hair; I resumed my journey and he had no the nerve to follow, I bet.

What a pitiful life a poor girl like me had to live, born as a child in an unfortunate family with a drunkard father and a miserable mother. I never regretted my fate, but life was not always fair to me, pushing me into the ravine of hardship with no way out

Even my ragged, full-of-stitches shoes couldn't keep me from skidding and slipping into the hole that my eyes couldn't see. As a reaction to my bad luck, my mouth muttered only a groan of pain

I grumbled not because no one came to help me, but because fate had dragged me here. If I didn't have to scavenge and sell junk after school, I wouldn't have had to deal with limb fatigue or swelter all over my torso at this hour when others slurped the delicacy of the soup or chewed the tender beef. I pushed that wild imagination to the back of my mind, knowing that despite being at home at the time, I would not be able to enjoy those amenities.

As impoverished people, my parents and I resided in a tiny hut-like house in a slum area where ragged clothe inhabitants and bed-smelled rubbish were our companions. The only access to get to this area was the muddy cramped road which could slip your feet when you didn't carefully step on it

The gloomy-faced woman under the thin covering lay on the deflated mattress with her chest moving up and down in her sleep. Her mouth in a while mumbled random equivocal words while her hands in her unconsciousness clapped the mosquitoes which partied around her ears. Even in her slumber, my mother showed her sorrowful life.

An hour had passed since I arrived home; I couldn't sleep despite my exhaustion. It was not because of my mother's snore or the blood-sucking insects dancing around me; many things stuck in my mind that I could not define or express in words.

"Please...don't hurt her," my mother murmured with her closed eyes, she was dreaming. Her fingers scratched the itchy skin of the mosquitos' bites causing it to redden the area. To give her comfort and protect her from more bites, I rolled up the disheveled gauzy bedding on her body.

"Ilana...why haven't you slept yet?" In her half-opened eyes, a question erupted in her mouth as soon as she noticed me fixing her blanket. My lips formed a smile before revealing a lie.

"I just woke up, Mom."

"Go back to sleep then." I obeyed her instruction and laid my body next to her, then pulled the thin cloth functioning as a coverlet over my torso.

I had no idea how long I had dozed; my eyes were dazzled by the light penetrating through the ventilation of my windowless room which jolted me awake. I got out of my bed in an instant at my mother's call in her raised tone.

She handed me a plastic bag full of clean clothes and asked me to send it to Mrs. Ali, one of her customers. My mother made a living as a laundress but it was not kind of a big laundry corporation where she worked. She offered her service of doing laundry for the rich people door to door. And Mrs. Ali was her most loyal customer who had trusted her for the laundry for almost one year now.

With a heavy big plastic bag in my small hand, I propelled my hasty steps over the tarnished stench narrow street toward Mrs. Ali's house located in the other housing, one kilometer from the slum area where we lived. The fog still caged the area around me which required me to carefully walk the path ahead of me. The cold breeze stung the skin under my flimsy t-shirt which made me cuddle myself with one of my arms wrapping around my chest.

After a long stride, the enormous building surrounded by the tall iron fence welcomed me with its loftiness. An elegant corpulent lady about my mother's age in a lavish cherry dress who was no other than Mrs. Ali greeted me with her sweetest smile. Her plump lips motioned the word to thank me upon receiving the plastic of the laundry from my hand.

Despite being born in the same year, my mother looked older than this pretty lady; I didn't spot any flaws on her cheek, and not even a single acne dared to linger there with the beauty product she applied to it. My mother, on the other hand, sucked all the drawbacks as if fate didn't spare her a little beauty. A black spot layered most parts of her face with acne spreading here and there on her sun-kissed skin. Only a thin crumpled dress covers her skinny body.

I threw my gaze at my feet, swallowing the comparison I created in my head while cursing myself for what I did, comparing this woman to my mother whose life had been pathetic since she was a baby.

"I am sorry to keep you waiting. Here is the money. And this is another dirty cloth to wash." I saved the money in my pants pocket without counting the amount of the money for my trust in her honesty.

The drama of a fight and quarrel between two human beings, my father who just returned home after a month of disappearance, and my mother who was kneeling in her sobs, welcomed my arrival at the door of my wooden house. In a rush and with no further wait, I ran toward my weak mother whose hair had masked her countenance.

"Mom... Dad...please stop it" My husky voice in a sad tone didn't gain my father's sympathy.

His reddened eyes fell on me and in no time, one of his rough hands grabbed my shoulder harshly like I was a non-living object and shoved me to the wooden wall. Pain coursed through my back and seeped into my heart induced by his action. The corner of his eye caught the gallon of water my mother used to cook and poured it all over my body while cursing me as a jinx to his life.

"You are a curse. Why are you still alive?"

My drunkard father didn't stop there; he kicked, punched, and hit me with his bare feet and fists without bothering my wail of begging for his mercy. Even though I got used to his brutality, it still hurt and dumped me into a chasm of misery.

I surrendered under his brutal blow and collapsed to my knees. What I heard was only my mother's scream before my swoon knocked me down and turned everything around me dark.

In my blur vision, the white-cloaked people in my surrounding swarmed and walked here and there in a rush with bee-like voices booming in my ears. With A little energy injected into my effort, I finally managed to open my eyes fully and found myself lying powerless and sickly on a bed half-walled by the curtains in a cold place, I always hoped that I would never visit, an emergency room of the hospital.

The headache hit me every time I attempted to recall the incident that had brought me here; my father's face bombarded my remembrance with the brutal rage that he directed at me mercilessly. Only God's miracle could save me from the doom of his despise toward me, his only daughter, the one he should have put under his protection.

All this anguish started with gambling and alcohol as his escape from his hopelessness after losing his previous job. Being a gambler and drunkard caused him to be someone else who was villainous to his family, to me, and my mother.

A doctor's arrival at my bed cut my reverie; his handsomeness with his perfect features of the pointed nose, fair skin, strong jaw, and sharp eyes enchanted me for a while before his soft-toned voice pulled me back to my senses. His peach lips motioned in a question slowly; after a long silence, my mouth sputtered a few words in trembling.

"Where is my mother?" Instead of giving him the answer he wanted to hear to his inquiry about how I felt, I muttered those words as I didn't catch my mother anywhere.

"Your mother will come in a minute. How do you feel now?" He repeated his question and with a sweet smile hanging on his lips, I gave up on telling him that my body was still in pain. "I have prescribed medicine for you that you need to take regularly. And for the pain killer, you can stop it once you get better." I nodded to his advice.

Just as the doctor predicted, my mother emerged through the half-open drape wall wrapped in her shabby colorless dress with nothing she brought but her woeful countenance after the doctor left. Her unkempt long hair would scare the children if she didn't tie it in a high bun, which fortunately she did today to appear neat.

"What did the doctor tell you?" While muttering her query about my health state, she took a stand on the right side of my bed with her eyes on me as if checking my body out just to ensure that her only daughter was not in a serious fatality.

"There is nothing to worry about, Mom. So, calm down."

"How can I calm down after what you have been through? You fell fainted."

"It is even better if I die," My despair struck my mother with a lightning bolt that destroyed her heart into pieces.

"Don't say something stupid, Ilana."

"How do you think you will pay the hospital bill, Mom?"

"That's none of your business. What you need to focus on right now is your recovery. Leave the rest to me."

The silence consumed us afterward, remaining the voices from the health professional's rush steps, the rolling beds, the groans and the moans from the patients, or the sobs from the patients' families.

Unable to endure the heartache of witnessing my mother's agony, I tilted my head to the left while holding back my tears not to stream down my cheeks. My mother was the epitome of woes; bad luck haunted her life after marrying my father who had ruined her hope of ecstasy. However, her obstinacy defeated her affliction; none of those pains killed her no matter how hard the life she had to live.

***

After two days of my inpatient, I started my normal activity, arriving at school early in the morning; my mother didn't permit me to work as I was still in my physical recovery. My appearance in a shabby uniform and full-of-stitch shoes attracted other students ' attention as usual; their gazes even followed me wherever my steps led me. Some of them showed me their pitying stare, while others were caught pinching their nose with my presence because of my odor; living in poverty didn't let me have a perfume let alone the make-up kits to enhance my look. However, I never allow those disdainful eyes to intimidate me; my main priority which was to study and graduate from this school strengthened me.

As a huge private school, Star Senior High School where I studied was equipped with numerous facilities not to mention the lifts that enable teachers and students to have easy mobility. It was not because I didn't like punctuality that drove me to take stairs rather than a lift to get to my classroom; I just avoided dodging to converge with other students inside the lift.

In a hurry of climbing up the stairs, I made a mistake bumping into the most arrogant boy at school, Kevin, the tall white young boy with raven eyes and wavy hair; our bodies collided but luckily didn't land on the rough tiles. Nevertheless, the incident ignited the fire of rage in him to burst out on me who just directed my sight on the blank wall with my hand holding one of my arms.

"It's you, the filthy girl! Can't you watch your steps? You're killing me! Or did you do it on purpose to get my attention?" His mouth yelled his mockery instead of conveying his apology for hitting my body.

"Move aside." I snarled.

"What did you say?"

"I told you to move as you are getting in my way."

"How dare you, the poor girl to give me an order?" Before his hand touched my head, I managed to pull it sidelong; he hissed with his lips curling in disgust. "Do you think I will touch the ugly poor filthy girl like you? My hand is even too precious to lay my finger on someone like you." Turning around, he ran upstairs and disappeared through the door. I was immune to his rude words for I had ever heard the worst; I grinned at his humiliation. With a heavy heart and burden weighing my shoulders, I continued my steps to my class.

The frenzy of the students exploded out from the classroom in the corner of the third floor inside the northern building of the school; it was where I spent hours every day studying and listening to the teacher's lectures. My small body easily slipped inside the half-opened door toward the untaken seat in the back row; I faced the nonchalance of my classmates who never acknowledged my existence in the classroom.

After shoving my small bag which looked more like a shopping bag into the drawer, I buried my cheek on the desk, the habit I did as a lonely creature with no one to talk to. This way, my mind could travel to my imaginary world where I found only happiness.

"Hi...." At first, my ears ignored the greeting from someone which I wasn't sure to whom he spoke. But, my quietness caused him to say it louder in hesitance. "Hi ...Ilana..."

In reluctance, I lifted my head and my eyes squinted to the glassed boy whose visage showcased his awkwardness receiving my gaze. On his name tag, the word "Reno Wijaya" peered at me. "What can I do for you?"

"I just would like to thank you for the pen you lent me in English class." For a while, his small round dark eyes behind his spectacles drowned me in the deep ocean! I struggled to find a way to swim up to the surface of his charm. Despite his nerdy look, he was stupendously handsome with his towering stoic torso, and perfect features of his face, pointed nose ,and porcelain skin tone. "That night, I didn't mean to stalk you."

"No..." I forbade myself to admire this guy in front of me; it would only direct me to bad things.

"What?" My sudden unexpected reaction startled him.

"No, I don't remember anything about you." My random response to his wonder just put me into a clumsiness and made me curse myself for acting weirdly before him.

"I understand. If you don't mind, we can..."

"Can you just go back to your seat? I am not in the mood to talk to anyone right now. Leave me alone." Without a word of protest, he languidly strode to his seat in the front row. Meanwhile, I dove back to my imaginary realm but this time his handsome face followed me which sparked my rage.

***

The sun scorched my fragile skin viciously when I paved through the curb under its light from school; the sweat flooded my body; my thin shirt stuck on it and my nose flared as a response to the odor from that bad-smelled liquid. The hunger and thirst worsened my condition; my hand unconsciously slipped inside my skirt pocket to check the food Reno gave me at recess time.

He might spot me observing the canteen from afar; without money, I could not enter and buy the food there. His kindness led him to purchase a pack of sandwiches for me which I initially refused to accept yet my rumbled tummy forced me to receive his care.

And that sandwich remained in my pocket until the school hours ended for no reason. It was probably the first time I got that food in my whole life or it was special. My head shook for the latter reason; why was it special?

The far distance from school to my house compelled me to keep walking; sometimes in my stride, my lips turned up in a small smile recalling Reno's word, " Would you be my friend?"

No one in this world had the willingness to be my friend except for him, the nerdy yet the smartest student at school and it washed me with feelings I never experienced before. Even the remembrance of his hesitant approach to my desk this morning could erase a little bad memory of my father's torture and encountering that pompous boy, Kevin.

My smile didn't last long as out of nowhere a mob of people jumped in my way with laughter that roared around us. From the way they appeared in front of me, there was no way that they had good intentions for me; I could not discover any chance to escape from their ambush.

"You can't run away from us! Stop trying!"

"You can take my bag but please let me go!" I begged but they took it for granted.

"Who said we wanted your belongings? The poor girl like you, won't have anything to offer to us." He, a lanky bearded man, who seemed to be the leader signaled to the other to catch me but before their plan came into realization, someone intervened.

"Don't dare to touch her!"

This bulky tattooed man in a dark t-shirt and rebel jeans, no better than the rest, one of my father's acquaintances intervened the thugs 'effort to jeopardize me yet his presence with his raven eyes locking mine shuddered me in more fear and horror. With his influence and popularity among the criminals in the slum area, those thugs who blocked my way were easily submitted under this wide-faced man's knees; they escaped because of their fear of him.

"Long time no see, sweety. I didn't expect you have grown up so fast." His mischievous eyes sized me from top to toe as if having the desire to devour my whole; an intimidating smirk on his lips towed me to the brink of dread.

His feet stepped on the butt harshly he threw it on the ground causing the object to depleted into the soil. It was just a matter of time for that thug to threaten my life like what he did to that butt on the earth.

At a slow pace and with lust reflected through his eyes, he took some steps forward, trying to reach out to me who at the same time took some steps back, avoiding him. This scene reminded me of what I had been through in the shed where I was kidnapped and trapped by the rascal men to whom my father owed a lot of money.

And my father, instead of saving my dignity, he let them did whatever to me as a bail of his debt. "With this, I no longer owe you anything," said my father before he spun around and left me with those evil scoundrels in tears and yell for his help and care under the downpour that soaked my body

Inside the tiny dark bamboo-walled and earthy-floored room in the rainy night, those people nearly harmed and humiliated me; none caught my screams and wails but the broken legged table and plastic chairs that witnessed my anguish. Luck stood on my side when out of nowhere, an unfamiliar man in a black hoodie broke the frangible door and stormed into the room where I was wriggling and struggling to let go myself off their hands. In spontaneous action, he struck them mercilessly; his fists and blows landed and imprinted bruises on their jaws, faces, chests and tummies that they ended up on the ground with no time for retaliation.

The rush and harsh stomps ahead me pulled me out of my reverie; that man was only a few feet from me now. Before his feet brought him closer to me, someone's shoutout deterred that tattooed man; he and I turned to the tall man in a Batik shirt who was in his hurry coming to us.

"Uncle..." My mouth opened unconsciously at his unexpected appearance. With a smile of relief, I greeted my uncle after that thug abandoned me without further thought upon my uncle's arrival.

"What did he do to you?" My shaking head responded to his query and his panic faded away from his visage knowing that I was in good condition.

"What brings you here, uncle? I mean it is just unusual that you walk around this slum area."

"Yeah...I intend to visit you and your mother. I know you might be wondering why because it's been a long time since the last time, I met you. I had an urgency to talk to your mother." There were no more comments I added to his words; as my mother's big brother as well as my uncle, he had helped us a lot in terms of finance, sending me to school and assisting with our monthly need sometimes behind his wife's back.

In struggle, our feet passed through the muddy gravel cramped trod heading to my tiny wooden leaked-roof house among other small occupancies in the slum area. The shabby faces of the unfortunate children were the views we could see along the way besides the heaps of garbage as the source of the people's income and the flies wreathing the leftovers at filthy spots.

The door opened and my mother emerged at the doorway as soon as my knocks hit the entrance; a hint of surprise smudged her face finding my uncle with me. In wonder and hesitance, she allowed us to enter the messy dirty room and let my uncle to have a seat in the only chair we owned while my mother herself sat on the floor after serving a cup of coffee to him.

"Have a drink. It may quench your thirst." In several gulps, the cup in his hand emptied in a minute. "Where did you park your car?" My mother asked as soon as not spotting the car anywhere near our shed.

"I came here by public transportation."

In sour face, my mother looked at her brother with her squinting eyes. "I am wondering what brings you here this time. It has been a long time since the last time you visited our house. You must have something urgent to talk to me." As if having super power to read people's mind, my mother could predict what my uncle's intention was.

In uneasiness, my uncle cleared his throat at my mother's quip. "There is something I need to discuss with you regarding Ilana. I do apologize for I am no longer able to support her education. You know life is getting hard for us these days. We have an issue with our business."

My mother who seemed pondering his confession didn't have a say yet as a response, her expression changed and discomfort smeared her visage.

I myself pulled my chin to my chest; it was mix feeling I had in my mind now. Without his support, I could not pursue higher education; studying in college had been my dream, however forcing him to send me to University was not wise.

My uncle himself had one son and two daughters whose life relied on him as their father, beside his wife's lifestyle of always wearing branded cloth was something he had to support on, too.

"It must be because your wife has found out that you secretly gave us financial support. That woman...,"

My immediate intteruption startled my mother. "Mom...don't blame aunty. Besides, I don't plan to study in university."

"Did I teach you to be rude, Ilana? Since when you have audacity to intrude someone's talk?"

"I am sorry, Mom. I don't mean to interven you. I just don't want you to think bad about aunty."

"Ilana...I'm sorry." Beyond my expectation, my uncle muttered his apology, the word I didn't deserve from him; his sacrifice of paying for my school fee behind his wife's back worthed my gratitude instead.

"No...uncle...don't say that. I owe you many things. I should thank you for all your kindness." He was about to open his mouth in a response to my words yet my mother distracted him with a question about her daughter.

"How is your youngest daughter?"

"She's good. She has been admitted to study in one of the international junior high schools."

His youngest daughter was the smartest one among all his children. His second child studied at the same school as mine and our relationship as cousins was not that good at school; with her wealth, she befriended with rich students while I, as a poor girl, often got bullied by her and her gang.

"Congratulations, anyway." My mother's congratulating on my uncle's daughter yanked me back to my senses. "If you have no more to say, you better go home as I still have something to do."

"Mom...," I, in an instance, interrupted her. "Uncle just sat in his seat."

"It's ok, Ilana. I'll come back in another time." He stood to his feet and bid goodbye; I followed him to accompany him to get out of the slum area.

"Uncle, I'm sorry for the way my mother treated you."

In a small smile of friendliness, he replied," No, you don't have to say sorry for that. Ilana...," he fished out something out of his pants pocket, "here's for you." In my shaking head, I rejected the envelope on his palm; in no time, the money in the envelope moved on my palm as he didn't accept my refusal.

"Thanks, uncle." I stammered my gratitude.

"Please, make sure your father won't find it out." His words sounded like a disaster would come and destroy me if my father discovered this envelope in my hand; I hurriedly slipped inside my pocket after scanning around and ensuring that no one caught us.

This money could either help me or kill me.