-Yumi, age 10-


“Okaa-san?" (mommy?)

“Nani?” (What?)

“Why do we have to go to this party?”

“It’s for Otou-san’s (daddy's) business. He and his family are required to attend.”

“But Okaa-san!”

“No buts dear…”

‘But Okaa-san, there won’t be any kids!’
Yumi lazily gazed out the airplane’s window and admired the speckled outline of Seoul, Korea. It was her first time to Korea and Yumi took it all in with interest.

“We are about to land…” The attendant’s voice calmly spoke through the intercom.

Yumi quickly jerked around to sit up straight and plugged her ears. This was the part she hated. She always felt pain in her ears whenever the plane descended. Taking a breath, Yumi watched wide-eyed as the outline became blobs, blobs became shapes, and shapes became buildings, cars, and textured ground.

As soon as the plane had landed, Yumi and her mother quickly got to the rental car office, and before Yumi knew, the two were checked into the hotel.
“Okaa-san,” Yumi pleaded for the fifth time, “When will we see Otou-san?”

“Patience dear. We’ll see him in a few hours.”

Yumi let out a frustrated, “pfft” and turned to her pad of paper she’d brought with her for entertainment. She had been writing lyrics during the plane ride and was eager to begin on the melody. Humming, Yumi quickly developed a simple tune and began to put the words to it.

“Yumi,” Her mother’s eyes softened at the clear voice, “You have a beautiful set of vocal cords.” Yumi’s mother was one who loved to talk eloquently. “You really should try out for an audition some day.”

Those few hours Yumi’s mother promised flew by, and before she knew it, Yumi had been plopped into the shower, scrubbed, brushed, cleaned, and dolled up. Yumi wore a pale pink dress with small detailed ruffles. Her mother had lightly curled her hair so it hung in loose waves, and she had a white headband
with a white flower to match her dress.

“Let’s go Yumi,” Her mother pressed.

“Mm!”

Wandering through the lively party, Yumi looked for the punch stand. She and her mother had met up with her father earlier.

Yumi’s father was a tall, handsome man with defined features. Her mother, on the other hand, was a petite woman with a slender figure and big eyes. The couple combined, looked like a celebrity couple.

Yumi eventually found the punch stand and managed to inform the caterer she wanted something to drink. Turning to head back to her parents, Yumi almost bumped into a boy, who looked about a year or so older than her.

“Hello,” The boy said in Korean.

‘I don’t know Korean,’ Yumi thought, and instead, smiled and gave a shy wave to signal ‘hello’ back.

The boy noticed the girl didn’t know Korean and tried to speak though actions to make it easier. Yumi smiled and she and the boy began to laugh and play with each other regardless of the language barrier.

The two were having so much fun, yet that was all broken, when Yumi heard the sound of glass breaking. Turning around, Yumi looked upon her mother, collapsed on the floor, bleeding.

Running towards her mother, Yumi panicked.

“Okaa-san?” OKAA-SAN!” She screamed. Yumi felt her father tower behind her. She turned to face him and began to cry, though looking up, she noticed he wasn’t offering to comfort or hold her. Instead, he looked stern and his eyes blazed with furry.

“It’s you’re fault!” He shouted at his daughter, “You killed her! Why didn’t you come immediately back after disappearing? You’re mother was worried sick! She went so far as to look for you, yet look what happened? It’s your fault!”

Yumi had never seen her father so angry before, and much less, angry at her. She trembled in fear and the tears began to roll down her face.
“Don’t cry!” Her father ordered. When Yumi didn’t stop his temper flared, “I can’t stand it anymore! You killed the only one I love. You’re no longer welcome around me. I am no longer your father.”

Yumi continued to cry heavily. “W-w-w-why? Otou-san?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your father. Why, you’re asking? WHY? IT’S BECAUSE YOU WERE A MISTAKE! YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE BORN!”

Eyes wide with fright, Yumi looked through her wet tears to see her father turn on his heel and leave the room. All guests were now focused on Yumi, whispers could be heard from all directions.

“Poor child.”

“Get that dead body out of here!”

“Will she be okay?”

Yumi sobbed until she thought her eyes could no longer hold tears. She felt a light touch on her shoulder, and sensing the kindness, turned sharply burying her face into the small shoulder of the boy she’d been playing with earlier.
She could feel the security and warmth, and it made her cry harder. The boy continued to hold her without speaking, just letting her cry.

Yumi lived a harsh life after that incident. She was adopted by her aunt and uncle, and was sent back to Japan. She was often bullied in her elementary and middle school years, her peers thinking she was a murderer, someone they shouldn’t associate with. In high school, Yumi was always jealous of the girls who were getting boyfriends and having fun. She was never included. No boy would even consider talking to her. Gradually, the color faded from her complexion and she stopped caring. Her skin got all blotchy from stress and numerous crying fits she had daily.
It wasn’t until her college years, that Yumi began anew. No one knew her at her new school, for it was big, and she finally made friends. Gradually making progress, Yumi became a happy girl once more, color returning to her face, and she began to even laugh again. However, that one memory, the memory of being disowned and accused of murder at such a young age, will never fade. She will always have the scar.