It's funny, isn't it?
For over a decade, I followed Cyrus Norton around, clinging to him for years, and every time he saw me, he would impatiently ask why I didn't just die away.
But when I was really about to die, his eyes bloodshot, he held my hand and begged me not to die.
Sign.
Do you think this is what they call karma?
-
I like Cyrus.
I've known it since I was a child.
In our neighborhood, he was the best-looking one.
So when we played house as kids, I'd cling to his leg, insisting that I wanted to be his wife.
Then he'd push me into the sandbox, always the same way.
But I never cried.
I'd slowly crawl out of the sandbox by myself.
Sitting beside him, hugging my legs, watching him hug his "wife" and point at the sand food she made saying, "Honey, you worked hard."
That's when I'd smile and say, "Not at all."
Later, my mom would see me come home covered in mud and sand, pulling my ear and demanding an explanation.
I'd say, you can't blame me; it's because Cyrus is so good-looking.
She'd scold me, calling me a love-struck fool, saying I was obsessed with looks even at such a young age.
But what could I do?
If only I had been born blind when she gave birth to me.
Then I wouldn't have fallen for Cyrus.
And so, thinking about it, I really am blind now!
Some people call this situation "you get what you wish for."
Now I'll start wishing I won't meet Cyrus in the next life. Will it come true if I keep wishing until the day I die?
...
Oh right, I wonder if anyone has ever tasted sand.
Still, better not to try it.
As a child, every time I was thrown into the sandbox, sand would end up in my mouth.
Dry and gritty, it was terrible.
My dad got into a car accident while driving under the influence.
He died.
Cyrus's father happened to be in the car and died along with him.
Killed by my father.
It rained on the day of the funeral.
Mom hugged me tightly, crying hard. I held Dad's picture, looking at the sea of black umbrellas before me.
At the time, I didn't understand much about death.
Mom just told me that Dad wasn't coming back.
He wouldn't hug Abby anymore, wouldn't give me rides on his back anymore.
I felt so sad, touching Dad's face in the photo, secretly crying many times.
But then, while crying, I suddenly thought of Cyrus.
His father had also left. Would he be as sad as I was? Would he hide and cry like me?
So, taking advantage of Mom not noticing, I snuck over to Cyrus.
The people there looked at me fiercely. I was scared, but I still wanted to find Cyrus.
In my pocket were my favorite candies, bought by Dad.
Dad said that when you're sad, eating candy will make you happy.
I wanted to give the candy to Cyrus.
I didn't want him to be sad.
So, holding an umbrella, I searched and searched, finally finding him behind a pile of bushes.
He had red eyes and was crying.
I took out the candy from my pocket and went up to give it to him.
But when he saw me, his brows furrowed tightly. He seemed very, very angry, more than when I used to cling to him.
He rushed over and pushed me down with great force.
The umbrella and the candy fell to the ground. I landed in a mud puddle, turning my black dress into a muddy mess.
Raindrops fell onto my face, stinging.
I heard him said: "I abominate you so much! Give my dad back! Why don't you die with your father!"
After saying that, he kicked me and ran away.
Cyrus was so mean.
I liked him.
But he hated me.
I wanted him to be happy.
But he wanted me to die.
Wow, I was really so sad back then.
I sat on the ground, picking up the candies one by one.
My palms were covered in mud, and the candy wrappers were too.
I unwrapped one and put it in my mouth.
There was no mud on the candy.
But Dad lied. Even after eating the candy, I was still so sad.
I misses Dad so much.
Could Dad come back and hug me before leaving?
...
I returned home covered in mud.
Ah, why do I always end up dirty whenever I see Cyrus?
Mom cried even harder when she saw me.
Her eyes were red from crying, like a rabbit's.
Someone told Mom about Cyrus pushing me.
She cried and apologized to me.
She told me that this was something our family owed Cyrus.
Oh, so Cyrus wasn't a bad kid.
He had a reason to hate me.
He had a reason to want me dead.
