Thirty five

'You've made so desperately in love, and now you let me down.'

–Ten2five-

***

"Dad?" I shouted when I found George's figure standing in a pure white room with a dazzling light shining from behind. He looked like he was brandishing one of Harry Potter's spells so much that my eyes squinted in pain. Are there dementors here, too?

"Dad?" call me again. Unfortunately, the figure stood there as if his beloved daughter's voice had no meaning. I tried to walk fast and then ran faster and faster like someone who missed the school bus. But George walked away smiling innocently. "Dad!"

My breath was short while the middle-aged man looked ordinary. He smiled sweetly, his slightly dark brown eyes shining like jewels. George waved for me to come. I shook my head and said,

"Why are you staying away? You know, I have a lot to tell you, Dad!"

He nodded with a smile. Wow, does he know what's on my mind? Now my eyes were teary; then I stretched out my hands. Ah, if my body were as easy to stretch as rubber, I would want to pull him in and hug him tightly to express all my longing for the most incredible father figure in the world. I want to complain that the world I live in is a lousy world that never favors this little girl.

"I...I hate my life, Dad...you should know." My voice sounded stuttered as tears rolled down my cheeks. In front of him, no matter how old this body is, I still feel like a little girl who always cries when someone hurts me. "I hate it so much that I want to die to meet you. But... God is never fair; he doesn't want me to die even if I try hard."

The sobbing became louder until his breathing became more and more labored; George just stood there without doing anything to calm his beloved daughter like before. When I was little and fell off my bicycle, my father would hug me tightly and say everything would pass. Now... he was silent. Raising his head and catching sight of the lines on his face, he became sad and full of worry.

"Dad?"

"You can hate everyone, but never hate your life and think about ending it," he said, making me shut up. "What you're experiencing now isn't the end, Lizzie. You'll be happy in time. You have to survive one more time. OK?"

Hold on once again...

Hold on once again...

You'll find your happiness...

"Dad!" I screamed, opening my eyes and finding myself in a dark room, not brightly lit.

I'm dreaming again.

I rubbed my face angrily, then got up and looked at the ticking clock on the wall, which still showed one in the morning. I stepped towards the bedroom window, which showed houses that seemed very quiet, with nocturnal animals calling to each other to form a melody in my ears. I looked at my reflection through the window, then felt my increasingly visible collarbone and stopped at the scar while closing my eyes. Images of Andre and Billy come together every time they touch these bitter memories, awakening a feeling of hatred that grows more significant day by day and turns into a phobia.

Take a deep breath then exhale slowly as you return to the bed. I lay down and tried to close my eyes again. However, until several minutes had passed, I could not be lulled back by sweet dreams of meeting George. I smiled mischievously; why is it that at times like this, my mind is full of Andre's figure now?

"You're stupid, Eliza," I muttered. "He must feel innocent after hurting you. Stop thinking about that bastard."

The good times with him now strike me as if to dispel the notion of what a bastard the coffee guy is. At Luna Park, we bought gelato, followed by fun rides, and ended with a sweet kiss on the Ferris wheel. Not to mention, when he took me around New York for a full day, he took us both to the Statue of Liberty and screamed at the top like a crazy person, which ended with a statement of his feelings followed by a mysterious gunshot in Times Square. With him, like heaven and hell that cannot be separated, good and bad things go hand in hand and always lurk wherever we go.

Is it the world that can't give me a little happiness or... is it true that our meeting was a disaster?

"I hate you, Andre," I hissed again as the attack of memories tormented my heart even more.

###

"Elizabeth... wake up, girl."

I slowly opened my eyes and saw my mother's face smiling at me. I stretched for a moment, then sat back against the head of the bed as my mother, in a striking flower-patterned dress, placed a plate of sandwiches and a glass of milk on the nightstand.

"Come on, clean yourself up, and then let's have breakfast," said Mother. "Lily and Dad said my food tastes better this time."

They raised an eyebrow while thinking my mother's cooking was always delicious. Will and Lily's tongues just be able to taste the deliciousness of the food? Even though they are currently more fortunate to enjoy the greatness of everything made by their mother than I, who migrated to New York.

"Lizzie," called Mother as she sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at me intensely. "Mom accepts whatever is in you, son. Even though you haven't been able to tell Mom or Doctor Margaretha, you need to know that no matter how hard they try to make you suffer, you still have us who love you and make you smile again. "

Hearing Mother's words felt like my heart was shaking. Moreover, the look on his face showed deep sadness, with tears held in the corners of her eyes. Those thin lips, rarely polished with lipstick, trembled as if they were holding themselves back from crying in front of me. She smiled bitterly, stroked my hair, then hugged me tightly.

"If your father were still alive, of course, he wouldn't have let his daughter be like this, darling. Mom knows George was willing to trade his life for you to make you happy," she said, making me cry hysterically.

"You just have to survive again to be happy, Dear."

George's words in my dream came back to me. I shook my head so hard that I couldn't hold on anymore. Surviving only makes me suffer more in this world. I can't; I want to see my father; I want to die!

"I don't belong here!" I exclaimed, letting go of my mother's hug. "I I ..."

“Hey, Lizzie,” Mom called, shaking my shoulder. "Listen to me!"

I shook my head quickly until she cupped my face to look at her.

"Just leave me alone," I said softly, my chest pounding as the panic attack came again.

I need to be alone, I need space, and I need George! No one can understand what has happened even if they give motivation that life must continue—no, I can't. My life is too broken and damaged to repair. Even if I could, I would leave a big scratch that would always be visible to everyone.

"Lizzie..."

"Please."

Finally, my mother left me alone to cry in the room after giving me the final advice that she would protect me no matter what happened. It's too late! Mother wasn't there when Billy terrorized me until Andre fucked me that night. I furiously pushed aside the food on the table until it fell to the floor.

Then I turned towards the window and hit the glass as hard as possible with my right fist until it broke. Blood seeped from the palm and back of my right hand when I casually scratched the skin of my hand between the sharp gaping window glass. When the pain made me aware of the hallucinations that had struck me that Billy and Andre's touch had passed, I glared to see that blood was dripping down my hands.

"Eliza!" mother screamed. "Oh God! How dare you!"

She pulled my body away from the broken glass, then came out and came back with a first aid kit so quickly, like Barry Allen in The Flash series. "What do you want, Lizzie?" asked mother. From her tone, I knew she was disappointed and sad; the tears that had not yet dried on her cheeks became wet again until her nose turned red when my mother treated my wound. "If you just keep quiet, Mom will never know what you want, Dear."

"I want to die to meet Daddy."

Mother's body froze hearing my words with her lips wide open. Her shoulders slumped, and then she shook her head slowly. "Death is not the answer, Lizzie."

"But death is what allowed me to be free from this torment," I said.

"The torment in this world is still smaller than the torment in the afterlife; you should know when Pastor Gabrielle explained it in church." Mother bandaged the wound with gauze and looked skilled; I'm sure William taught her that. When I was little, my mother would panic and immediately take me to the ER as if her daughter was dying. "Do you want to visit his grave? Just the two of us."