CHAPTER TWO: THE UNHEARD GIRL
I was not wrong to think that the new soil I touched with my feet would bring me the most disgusting memories I would carry for a lifetime.
Crude stares, rude remarks, pointing at my face and then to a drawing of a cartoonish ogre, everything was seen by me. Nothing was left out. The world where I once wouldn't look into a mirror twice became a world where I searched every reflection, desperate to find the so-called ugly features they saw in me.
Perhaps it was just curiosity. Perhaps it was ignorance. But if that were true, then why did they look away every time I looked back at them? Why did they press their lips to each other's ears every time I passed by? Was I really such a savage-looking person? Was my appearance truly enough to make me feel like a wolf among sheep?
Ever since I arrived, children laughed at me, women snickered openly, and men looked at me with visible disgust. It was like living in hell. Like I was the sheep, cornered by wolves, except they thought it was the other way around.
No. No. No. I should not care. I tell myself that. But then why is there another voice echoing in my head, one that insists I must look like a ferocious monster for people to treat me this way? Perhaps it was the servant's clothes that made me look like this. Yes. It wasn't my face. It had to be the clothes.
However... would a beautiful face look like a monster just because it wore ragged clothes?
I shake my head. Why should I care what these people think of my appearance? It shouldn't matter. I must learn how to survive in this foreign world. Yes, that should be my only priority.
But nothing changed. Every time I looked at my reflection, I still flinched.
Why?
Why didn't I have that woman's fair skin, or that girl's thin body? Why not a small nose and a pair of delicate, beautiful eyes? Why did I have wavy hair that looked like curved roots in the soil? Why didn't I look like them? Why was I built so... ugly?
Every insult, every remark, every act of degradation stuck to my mind like paint to a canvas. I had never considered myself beautiful, no. But I had never thought I looked like a monster either.
I felt nothing else. I was too focused on my appearance to notice how much weight I had lost. Thinner and thinner, day by day. My body was growing slimmer. At least that, I thought. Perhaps now, someone would finally call me... beautiful.
But no. The unwanted gestures never stopped. That wish never came true.
My surroundings began to blur. Every time I opened my eyes, my head spun. I needed food. I needed sleep. But I forced myself to stay awake. What if a man came and harassed me while I slept?
I didn't know what to do.
I could no longer feel my skin. The pain in my head overpowered everything else.
During this time, no one helped me. No. They laughed. Children threw pebbles at me just to make me open my eyes. A woman spat at me and shrieked words that sounded like curses. I don't know what she said, I don't understand Chinese. Maybe it's for the best.
My state worsened. With barely any food from begging in the streets, my body became fragile. I had no strength. Now, when I look at my reflection, I wish I had begged harder for food or money. Maybe I should have entertained those disgusting people so they might toss me a coin, just enough to survive another day.
I thought my life couldn't get worse...
Until I saw a group of people walking toward me with a rough cloth and a bucket of water.