He was staring at me.

I looked away uncomfortably, unsettled by the new attention.

As I looked away, I saw a glimmer of pity in his eyes.

...

I looked back at him and he smiled sympathetically at me.

Why was he so…sym…pa...thetic…to me?

I looked back with a confused expression and he tilted his head to the side as well. I looked away quickly.

, I look like some kind of freak staring at people.

I used to do that all the time, stare outside the window when appa was away and umma had another one of those men home to “keep her company”. They would always make gross noises in the other room and I’d put my music on and ignore them when they yelled at me to turn it off.

I used to sit out on the balcony alone, watching people as they played in the park down the street. Happy laughter used to float up to me and make me wish I could go down to them and play with them too; to feel the happiness and joy, to feel the wind blowing in my face, to be free from the torment of the house in which I live.

But I couldn’t.

My mind snapped back to the present as the minister called my name

“Would you like to say a few words?”

Umma stomped on my foot, signalling me to go and say something.

“No” My voice came flat, emotionless.

Umma leaned in close to my ear and whispered threateningly “We will talk at home”

How could I call that place my home?

No one loved me there.

Homes are places where families live.

They may have given birth to me, but they are not my parents, and they are not my family.

That place is not my home.

I looked over to the boy from before and he smiled sympathetically at me again.

Something wasn’t letting me look away.

*******************************************************************************************

After the ceremony, everyone broke off into little groups and spread out around the large grassy garden area.

Umma and Appa had gone off with their friends and had told me to stay in the garden.

I stood up and started to wander around until I saw a big, shady tree. I sat under its leafy protection and leaned my head against the bulky trunk, closing my eyes.

“Yah” a deep male voice said to me.

I squeezed my eyes closed even more. Why couldn’t Appa wait until home to beat me again? Like he usually does?

Maybe he’s in a bad mood today.

I shrank back against the dark wood, bracing for the impact of Appa’s merciless hand. When it didn’t come, I looked up into deep chocolate brown eyes full of sorrow and pity.

It was him.

He looked at me for a few more seconds before kneeling down and sitting next to me.

I didn’t move.

“I’m sorry for your loss” he said softly from beside me. I hid in my hair.

Why does he feel sympathy for me? The only one who’s ever done that to me was…

Grandpa.

I sighed internally, I should’ve cherished him when I had the chance. Grandma only gives me looks but grandpa actually stood up for me while I was getting hit.

Now that he’s gone…

I felt something wet run down my cheek.

“Hey, don’t cry” he cooed as he put a hand on my shoulder.

I shouldn’t cry. Appa and Umma told me that crying means you’re weak and helpless. I brushed the water away quickly with my fingers.

“I’m not crying” I stood up to leave when I felt a grasp on my wrist.

“Don’t leave” he said quietly. Slowly, I sat back down. He let go of my wrist.

“What’s your name?” he asked me after a while, breaking the silence.

“Jae Hwa” I mumbled after some time.

I stared at the ground, where little ants scurried around carrying leaves and twigs and food crumbs.

It was silent again before we heard a loud, harsh voice from the reception area.

“JAE HWA, YOU WORTHLESS GIRL! COME HERE NOW!” Appa yelled at me.

I stood up to go. I walked a few steps, when I could feel him behind me.

“No goodbye?” he asked, his face falsely offended.

I said nothing and just stared at his face, his eyes smug but swirled with pity and sorrow. I bowed slightly, then started off towards my fuming Appa.

“Why didn’t you come earlier!?” He asked me viciously. He leaned in forward to see my slightly wet face.

He hit my face, making drops of saliva fly out of my mouth.

“WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT CRYING YOUR IMPUDENT, GOOD FOR NOTHING, WORTHLESS PIECE OF DIRT!!!???” He spat on me.

I could hear the harsh whispers again, most containing my name and some sort of insult.

My Appa and Umma walked forward, expecting me to follow. I did.

As I got into the car, I realised something.

I didn’t know his name.