The Search for Freedom

Lil

I sprang from my bed and donned my blue slippers. I could feel the warm sunlight entering the small holes in the ceiling. It was the first time I woke up late in the morning. I knew that I would be late to my class that day. I was so exhausted that I slept for more than ten hours, and I could still feel the pain in my abdomen.

I grabbed my towel from the line. The door cried out when I opened it. I entered and shut the door, hung my towel on the holder and got naked.

I noticed the fist-sized, red bruises on my abdomen and was perplexed as to why they hadn't healed, despite the fact that even a large cut on my hand would normally heal on its own, but why not? Perhaps it wasn't part of my body or anything else about the power that was given to me by the old man. I didn't care about that anymore. What was more important, I was breathing.

My awareness became active when the cold water poured down on me. I wasn't sure how I should feel, whether I should be happy or sad because of what I did to those people. I felt both: sad for killing those men, and glad for helping the woman.

I knew it wasn't my mistake, because it was they who were doing wrong to me, and if I had not killed them, maybe I would have been the one who got killed by them. I wasn't obliged to worry. It wasn't my mistake if they died, because I wasn't the one who killed them. The curse might be so strong because if I died, it could not use my body anymore, or else it could reinvigorate my dead flesh.

After taking a bath, I fastened the towel around my waist and got out of the bathroom. I walked on the rough floor and continued into my bedroom. I shut the door and opened the box, then took my clothes. While wearing my trousers, I heard the door thud, so I hurriedly put on my pants and looked back to see if it was him.

My mother got into my room. I was curious why she seemed to be scrutinizing my abdomen. Until I realized that I had not worn my shirt, and my mother saw something like a fist-like bruise. I had witnessed how her tears dripped down onto the floor.

"Oh Christ! What happened to my son?" She got near me. "Are you okay?" The mother wiped the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. She looked everywhere but at my face. I hugged her tightly, though my abdomen was still painful. I wanted to calm her up.

"What happened to you, son?" She touched my face.

Mama, can you stop exaggerating? It's just a bruise." I told her.

"That's a bruise! How can I stay calm?" She asked. "Tell me who did this to you and we will punish them!" Her hair seemed like snakes as they stood up and seemed to bite someone.

"I'm fine, mamma; look at me; I'm still alive." I knew that she didn't need to punish those men who did this to me, because they were already gone and got their unlawful punishments.

"Then what if you had died? They must be punished so that they cannot hurt you again and also the other children."

"Mama, c'mon, just be calm." I went towards my bed and groped my socks below it. "You don't need to worry. Look, everything is fine. You don't need to punish anyone."

But son, I can't let it pass by. "Everything wouldn't be fine if we let it continue." She took my white shirt, got close to me, and handed me my shirt. "We need to report to the police those people who hurt you."

"Mama, why won't you just relax and forget about this thing?" I tried to convince her why I was wearing my white shirt.

"Son, why won't you let me know who those people are that hurt you? I won't relax as long as I see you suffering from the pain they caused."

I was lulled, thinking of an alibi, then said, "Mama, you don't need to worry because I already reported them to the police."

"Are you sure?" She furrowed her forehead. It seemed that she had been affected by my alibi because her mood had changed.

"Believe me. You don't need to worry. I smiled. I'm of age to know what to do if someone hurts me. Trust me, you don't need to worry." "Okay. So we shall forget it and go to the kitchen because your father is waiting for us and so that you won't be late for your class." "It was you, eh? You did not wake me up early."

"Hey, you child, can't you wake up on your own? You've said that you are already big enough to help yourself, so don't tell me that you can't wake up if I didn't arouse you. Anyway, can you tell me the reason why you have slept so long?" She queried.

Hey you, your lips seemed to be a machine gun, but I knew I couldn't blame my mother, because she was just worried about me. It was my mistake that I couldn't tell her the real story. Now I believe that if someone had started to lie to someone, he would become addicted to doing it. Whatever they would say, he would not be affected anymore.

We got inside the kitchen. I saw my father was already eating his breakfast. It was the first time I saw him eating alone. Sometimes I e the kitchen. I saw my father was already eating his breakfast. It was the first time I saw him eating alone. Sometimes I didn't even see him eating. When I was young, it made me wonder if my parents were eating their meals or not. And they were always watching me eating food and seemed curious about why I was eating it. "Do hurriedly eat your breakfast, so that you can go to your school early," Mom ordered.

"Leona, don't say that to your child; he might choke," my father reprehended.

"Just calm pa, you might be the one to choke yourself because you're eating too much," I mumbled.

Perhaps mom heard what I had said, which is why she replied, "Just let him." You already know what a thief he is when it comes to food."

"And he had stolen your heart, mama?" I asked.

"You should not talk about that thing. I'm not food," she replied. "Look at your father. He choked himself because you're mentioning him."

Did it really occur to you that if you mentioned someone, something would happen to that person? Teacher Jayne told me that it was only a belief of the elderly and could not happen in real life.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

But why do people do not believe in magic? Based on my experience, it was true. Perhaps because they hadn't experienced what I was experiencing. Teacher Jayne also told me that the best teacher was someone's experience. She said that someone was not doing anything if he didn't have any experience of doing something.

Surely, if an impossible thing happened many times, someone could do nothing but believe in it, so if my father choked many times, it could force me to believe that talking about someone had an effect on them. However, I could not let go of the possibility that it was just a coincidence.

If, on the other hand, I mentioned someone's name and that person bit his own tongue, I knew the world would never be at peace. The word means that if someone just mentioned the name of their brother, there would be a lot of people who would be affected. As one life touched the other, and that wasn't really hard to understand.