4: Precocious Child (I)
I wonder, when did I become like this?
From the start, I was just sitting in the middle of nowhere, completely defenseless.
Apparently, being a good child involves studying hard and getting achievements.
"You will make a great doctor."
Everyone around me always said it like it was a mantra, especially my parents.
"Once you become a doctor, you'll be successful!"
"Once you become a doctor, you'll have a good life."
Those frequent statements made me eager as a child.
I remember it very clearly, my younger self gleefully declaring to my parents that I would be a doctor, that they wouldn't have to worry about getting sick, and that I'd take care of them once they grow old.
Looking back at it now, it just seems laughable.
• _______________________________________________________ •
As a child, I excelled in my studies, always at the top of the class. Of course, that was because I was very interested in studying, it was fun learning about things.
As a reward, my parents always showered me with compliments and a bunch of encyclopedia books.
It was a give-and-take.
Excellent results reap great rewards.
Then what about the other way around?
I have seen it firsthand.
One summer day, the exam results were released. Of course, I had a high score, but the same couldn't be said for my other classmates.
He was a young boy, whose name I couldn't remember anymore.
He failed the exam.
At that time, I didn't think much about it, but he cried a lot.
His mother was also there, comforting him. She rubbed his head and offered him an ice cream.
What the mother said next surprised me.
"You did your best, and you'll do better next time."
For some reason, I felt uncomfortable, something along the lines of envy.
(That must be nice.)
Bound by curiosity, I made up a foolish plan. Even now, I don't know whether I should regret doing it, or be relieved because I realized something early on.
If I were to fail, what would happen?
And so. . .
slap*
• _______________________________________________________ •
After that, I heard the sound of something taking shape. It slowly enclosed the space around me.
In this dark place, walls have started to form. It was slightly comforting. It's not like I was claustrophobic, so I felt perfectly fine.
Then, after a few years, I began to hear voices, arguing voices.
It was loud. I hated it.
I wanted it to stop.
• _______________________________________________________ •
I woke up from my sleep due to a loud noise coming from outside my room. It sounded like two people arguing.
Anxiously, I got out of bed, opened the door slightly, and snuck a peak.
It was my mother and father, shouting at each other.
(Are they fighting? Why?)
This is the first time I've ever seen them like this. They were talking about certain stuff that I couldn't understand.
Something about 'debt' and 'cheating'.
It got to the point where father threw some stuff at mother. It was scary.
(What should I do?)
I held my breath and willed myself to get out and help my mother, but the moment I saw my father grab a belt, I knew what was going to happen. He rolled it around his hand and tightened it.
I reflexively took a step back, and it took a while for me to notice that I was trembling.
I know the feeling of being struck by a belt, the stinging pain that lasts for a while, and the burning sensation it will leave afterward.
(I'm scared! It will hurt! I don't want any more bruises!)
I discreetly closed the door, went back to bed, and covered myself in a blanket.
The mere sound of the belt snapping made me flinch.
(I don't want to hear it anymore!)
(Make it stop!)
• _______________________________________________________ •
Ah. . .something changed again. . .
This time, the walls had become thicker, it was as thick as a stack of books.
I didn't mind it at all.
It gradually stopped the noise.
Then one by one, stuff kept appearing until it made up an entire room.
It's very comfortable here.
I feel safe and happy here.
Ah. . .welcome, to my inner world.
• _______________________________________________________ •