"ALONE AND ANNOYED"
The dream hit me like a punch. My mother's face twisted with anger, her hand slapping me hard. "I wish you were never born! You're such a burden to us!" she yelled, each word cutting deeper than any knife. Her voice echoed, relentless. "Why are you so useless? Why can't you be more like your sister?"
I could feel tears burning my eyes, hot and unstoppable. I was crying in the dream, but the fear and hurt were so real that I woke up gasping, my chest tight, heart racing. My body trembled, sweat dripping down my temples. My breaths came in short, jagged bursts—I was having a full-blown panic attack. Every nerve in my body screamed. My hands shook, my vision blurred, my stomach twisted into knots. I clutched at the blankets, curling into myself, whispering to no one, "Why was I even born? Why did they keep me only to make my life worse?"
I buried my face in my hands, pulling at my hair, sobbing uncontrollably. Memories I'd tried to push away flooded back.
The first few years of my life had been heaven. I had felt loved and safe… until my little sister was born. Everything changed. My parents' attention shifted to her. She stole the love I had once felt was mine. I became invisible, ignored, treated like a maid in my own home. I was beaten whenever they were angry, compared constantly to her: "You're so dark, she's so fair and beautiful."
They abandoned me. Sent me away to my aunt's house, where care and love were nonexistent. She hurt me physically, punished me cruelly. My uncle's gaze made me shiver—he wanted things no child should ever face. I couldn't stay there. I ran. I ran into the streets, scared, hungry, alone.
But I survived. I worked tirelessly—washing dishes, babysitting, serving at restaurants—any job that could keep me alive. I rented the tiniest, darkest room, clawed my way to some semblance of stability. And now… now I was finally strong enough to take care of myself.
I lay back on the bed, chest heaving, tears streaming down my face. The panic slowly eased, but the ache in my chest remained. Even after everything, even after all the pain, I had made it this far. And yet… the question lingered: *why did they ever let me be born, only to hurt me like this?*
I picked myself up, rubbing my face, trying to steady myself. As I looked around, I realized I had fallen asleep on Raffy's bed. My chest still ached, but I had to move.
I picked up my phone and froze for a moment—dozens of messages from him flooded the screen. He had been asking if I had reached my parents' house safely. I stared at them, a heavy mix of sadness and disappointment settling in my chest.
*He's so lucky… to have parents who care,* I whispered to myself, my voice tinged with envy. *Unlike me…*
I called him. "I'm packing my stuff," I said quietly.
He shouted through the phone, worried. "Why are you still there? Leave! Call me if you need anything!"
"Okay," I replied softly.
"Bye," he added.
"Bye," I echoed.
I put the phone down, sighing. Talking to myself, I murmured, "He's so changed… he's the Raffy who never liked talking to me. And now… he's the one taking care of me."
Even in the quiet of the room, I could feel the weight of that thought—and it made my heart ache in a way I couldn't ignore.
I sighed softly, the loneliness pressing down on me. *I wish I could go to my parents' house like him…* I murmured to myself, feeling the emptiness around me.
Days passed, and the dorm became a mess. The house was dirty, there was nothing to eat, and I couldn't even gather the courage to step outside and buy something. I felt completely lost, totally alone.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. My heart leapt—I thought it was Raffy, full of energy as always. I rushed to the door, smiling, only to have it vanish instantly.
Standing there was Mehzil.
Before she could say anything, I snapped, "Are you a ghost? You disappear and appear whenever you want?"
She smirked. "Are you a trash bag? You throw garbage wherever you want."
"Not funny," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
"I never wanted to be!" she said sharply. "Where's my Raffy baby?"
"Excuse me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She blinked. I rolled my eyes again. "He's not your Raffy baby, huh!"
"He is," she insisted.
"No," I said firmly. "He's mine. I can tell you because clearly, you don't know. He is my husband, so don't disturb him."
She scoffed. "As if I'll believe you," she said, trying to push past me.
I shoved her back. "Get lost, buffalo! He is sleeping!" I slammed the door shut.
I sank back onto his bed, exhaling. *Ahhh, she is so annoying,* I muttered to myself, laying down, letting the frustration of the day wash over me.