To tell you the truth, I always write about heart-throbbing love story, jiwang and sedih2 nye la. But one day a roommate of mine (KHALIDA HUSSIN) DARED me to write a story about a kiling2 one. Haa…amek ko! Sume ade, complete: dibunuh, terbunuh dan membunuh. The best part of it was I got the opportunity to read it out loud in front of my English class. Despite of the horrible grammar mistakes, it was fun to see my friends’ different reaction to hear the ending of the story. So korang, this one had been improvised but the originality is still preserve. Read:
“NO! NO! NO! I hate broccolis. I am tall enough. I do not need broccolis to make me taller. I ate cheese that is rich with calcium for the growth of my bones,” I was very diligent when making excuses not to eat vegetables especially BROCCOLIS. It was very green and disgusting. It tasted like rotten fish from the garbage in filthy the alley, gross! Mommy gave up. She stroked my curly chestnut head. She loved me so very much and would never want to force her one and only child to do anything.
Hi! My name is Jake. I’m 6 years old. People around me including my friends always thought I was going to be an excellent lawyer when I grew up. I was very good at standing up for myself and other people. Whenever I was caught up in a hot soup, I could easily free myself with my fluency in speaking. As mentioned earlier, I was the only child and the apple of my parents’ eyes. All my needs were fulfilled. Daddy and mommy would always buy toys that caught my attention or ice cream I wanted. They really, really loved me.
One fine morning, a loud knock on the door broke the silence in our small shabby flat. I thought it was granny who promised to bring me to the National Museum today, but to my surprise there was a BIG and BULKY man standing in front of our door frame. I stood still with the door open. I didn’t like the man. He had a dark muscular body and a few scars on his face with a fresh one on his left brow. But, it was the eyes he wore that showed it all; they were filled with fiery anger and hatred and all the evil things that could not simply describe into words. His coarse voice boomed when he called out daddy’s name and simultaneously the hair on my neck rose. My motor neurone gave me instruction to close the door, fast. As expected, he pushed back the door and his energy was as same as a bulldozer that made me flying towards the coffee table. A thick liquid could be felt when I touched my forehead.
The ‘MONSTER’ as I preferred to call him, dashed into my parents’ bedroom. He grabbed daddy on the shirt and pulled daddy harshly out the house into the corridor. The neighbours who just woke up, were shocked about what had just happened. Whispers could be heard, it was like they knew that ‘monster’. “Pity Jake, this will be the last time for him to see his father,” said Mrs. Klein. I was confused. Could this be the last time I would be seeing my loving and caring dad? I thought that the ‘monster’ had just woke up at the wrong side of the bed, felt a little bit cranky and thought that my daddy was a good companion and can help to cheer him up. I knew I would see daddy again.
Day by day, week after week, daddy was never home; sadly to say. Mommy cried every single day since daddy went with the ‘monster’. She also never spoke to me again. When I brought her meals prepared generously by our neighbours, she would turn her face away, not to look at me. I found this very odd. She never did this before. I missed her cuddly bear hugs and smooching kisses before I went to bed. I wished things would come back to normal. I missed having delicious dinner cooked by mom and my happy chats with dad.
Now, I had a new routine. After I went back from school, I would do the laundry. It was my first time doing house chores. Before this it was mommy’s, and I never had to do any chores. Daddy won’t let mommy work and said it was his job to be the breadwinner for the family. He wanted mommy to give her fullest attention to me. Nevertheless, my friends always asked me about my dad’s occupation. I actually didn’t know, but I didn’t tell them that. I told them that my dad was a businessman who worked out late. This was partially true, because dad did wore a suave seamless suit and brought a few $100 bills every time he went back from ‘work’.
This continued until one day mommy went missing. Where was mommy? She was not on her bed under the self-made quilt as usual. She also left her purse on the dressing table; she never left the house without it. So, I waited and waited. I eventually slept on the comfy couch while waiting for mommy. Knock! Knock! “Jake! Open the door. This is your mom. Hurry up you lazy brat!” shouted mommy. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and rushed to the door. Mommy! How happy I was to see her. I came hurriedly to hug her. She stood still and pushed me aside. I felt like crying. WAIT! I noticed something different about mommy. Her glistening curled hair was in a mess. Her red rose lipstick was smeared. Her yellow ruffled blouse was not buttoned right. And, her eyes were puffy and wet as she had just cried.
“This is all your fault. Why were you ever born in this world? If not for your so demanding requests, all of this will be just a bad dream. Your daddy would never be a drug dealer. He would still be alive, flesh and blood and would always protect me from selling my body for money to pay the debt,” mommy said without any tone. I tried to swallow the things that mommy had just told me. Daddy was a drug dealer? That explained why there was packets of colourful pills in a sport bag I found before and how we managed to buy stocks of broccoli and fresh turkey ham every week. So, daddy was a business man after all. He sold drugs to other people in order to buy me all the Hot Wheels and Playstations for me. My friends always envy me because I could always have any toys I want and go to a private school, but a little curious that I live in a neighbourhood where they couldn’t even afford to buy a tin of baked beans.
“I love my husband with all my heart. You killed him! You’re a little boy, but you’re a murderer. A murderer!” mommy’s voice was getting louder as she came closer to me. She softly held my neck and strangled me. I gulped for air to breath. “I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to do this. I’ll sell all my toys. I won’t need it anymore. It hurts mommy. It really hurts,” I begged mommy to loosen the tight grip on my neck. I struggled to free myself and accidentally kicked her right calf. She let go of her grip and stood on one leg. She was unstable and stepped on my favourite red fire truck and fell on the squeaky floor. Her head hit the side table besides the couch. The oriental vase on it broke into million pieces on her head.
“Mommy!!! Don’t leave me yet. Please forgive me mommy. I promise to be a good boy and eat my broccolis” I tried to wake mommy up. Blood was pooling under mommy’s head. She was gone. This was my fault; I am a murderer. I killed both of my parents. I was useless. I touched my aching neck. I could still feel the pain from mommy’s grip. I decided to stop the pain by tightening a rope on my neck and let my body hung freely below the fan.
THE END
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