Memory upon memory flooded my mind, blurring my eyes with the pools of pain.
My brother said something along these lines "Lucky you! You're not in boarding when you were in Form 1! You joined as a senior. You don't know how we juniors feel!"
Those words stopped me in my tracks, reminding me of the old days I had hoped to forget. Moments later, I find myself inside my car, staring out into the pelting rain.
When did I get here? Whatever happened?
Everyone was laughing at my dad's joke, playing around, goofing.
Suddenly everything seemed to be at slow motion, with me being the only awake character. The confusion increased as I was dragged down a tunnel of time, with every single memory crashing onto me like wave onto beach. I, helpless as a rat stuck in a trap, was being engulfed by the enormity of the hurl, drowned in a sea of emotions.
Everything went pitch black.
Waking up, I found myself stranded on a foreign yet strangely familiar field.
Rubbing my sore temples, I rose, only to find myself staring onto an empty piece of land. Regardless of the the fact that I do not have a single clue as in to why am I here, my heart did not feel absent. I was not in the least scared. It felt as if my heart knew all these things my mind doesn't. Strange as it sounds, I have to admit. At that particular point, I felt like I was.... home.
During the absence of sound, my ears were trained to pick up even the slightest hustle. Though thinking back, this was no 'slight hustle'. In this land of nothing ness, this was like a horn blaring from a near distance.
"Melayu tak mengaku melayu!", shouted the lady.
Realising that the sound seemed to be coming from behind, my head instinctively spun around, feasting my eyes upon the sight of a 13 year old young girl, being scolded by her teacher. Her eyes, brimming slightly, shone with the fire of hate. Her small, petite lips trembled, as if begging for its right to defend its mistress. Her hands, decorated with small little calluses, gripped the pen ever so tightly. Her head fell back, revealing a grim, strong, brave, egoistic, determined expression. Apart from it all, what startled me most was the emptiness in her soul, so strong that it shone from within. Her demeanor, though silent as the hills, was overwhelming. The sadness in her heart reflected as clearly as a pond would the moon, despite her stone graved face. I touched my cheeks, surprised to find it wet. Without realisation, my heart had cried for her. My heart had cried for me. That first memory, a kick-start of my high school years. She was me. She was the memory that kept me on edge forever. She was the memory that caused all these trust issues, all these paranoias. She was me.
The whole class, despite their obvious disagreement, stood aside, poker-faced, unable to do or say anything. I walked into the class unnoticed. A sudden chill ran down my spine as I realised that I 'm just like a ghost, walking into a crowded hall as slithe as a snake. Staring onto her book, clean as any, I saw the upper left corner of the page tainted by a circle of dark, red ink. Realising that it was the root of the commotion, I bent in for a better view of the horrifying 'mistake'.
As soon as the sight of it feasted my eyes, I fell back, stunned. I let loose a mad laugh, for I could not believe what I just witnessed.
A whole entire class, lectured for an hour. A little girl around half the teacher's age, punished so severely, was called names, given a harsh public humiliation. All for the sake of a SPELLING ERROR?! Just because she spelled 'May' (as in the month, May) wrongly? Just because she spelled it in a language different than the one you're teaching? Just cause she spelled it in English?
Funny how they regard themselves so highly. Funny how they can call themselves 'educators' when the one they should trully 'educate' is their own self.
Don't get me wrong. I love the profession. Heck, coming from a long line of true educators, how can I not? But I often wonder, why me? Why do I always get picked on by the very people trained to protect me from harm? What did I do wrong? I recalled you being proud of my achievements. I recalled you saying these exact words, "Oh, she's my best writer". I recalled getting highest for your subject, almost all the time. I recalled representating, and winning, my class for that subject you taught. I recalled you using me for countless jobs, countless times. So again, pray tell me, why? Why? Why?
Unfortunately, asked a million times, that single question would still leave a resonating echo with no reply.
So, brother, let me tell you this.
I have had my share.
I have endured all there is to endure.
I have gone through the worst of the worse.
I have been dumped to hell and back.
I have been hammered down by those who vowed to stand by me.
I have been cheated, lied to, betrayed.
I have lost all that was dear.
I have lost all that was mine.
So, honestly, is it too much to ask
For a serene, peaceful senior high?
Though you'd be good to remember,
That behind all these ,
Truth is,
This was only the beginning.
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