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June 10, 1984
“Don’t leave me please! Please don’t leave me! I’ll be good for now on, I promise Mom.”
My son’s voice still rang in my ears as I drove away from my moldy and broken down apartment that I hated. I didn’t feel guilty at all, maybe a little, but my husband can take care of Farus for once.
I got tired of motherhood since the age of fourteen. In India, you married early in order to have lots of kids. I was having none of that! Farus was a handful and I was sick and tired of it.
I wanted to enjoy my life and not get held down to domestic life. I’m nineteen for goodness sakes! In America, I would be in college instead and living my life the way I want to. I was born in America, but moved to India at the age of ten.
I still kind of remember America, but I couldn’t recall my mother who died there. I moved to India with my uncle who was my only relative in America. I’m going to move back to America and away from the congested, crowded population of India.
September 18, 1996
I was sitting and reading on my favorite couch, when a glass in the kitchen fell and shattered on the floor. I was sure someone was in the kitchen, so I tiptoed quietly towards it and peeked. No one was there, and I let out the breath I been holding.
When I saw the mess in the kitchen I was dumbstruck at first and shocked to discover a trail a blood on the white tiled floor. A message was scrawled in blood that read: “I WILL get you and you WILL pay for what you did!”
Tossing and turning in my sleep, I only thought of what I saw in the kitchen. Shaken and trembling with shock and fear, I wiped up all the blood, which I discovered was chicken blood and threw away the shattered glass cup.
I haven’t thought of my son, Farus, for twelve years, but somehow, I couldn’t seem to get him out my mind now. I knew the message couldn’t be from him, because he was far away in India and I would have known if he came here. Still, I couldn’t be sure, but I clung to that idea until I fell asleep.
September 22, 1996
I woke up this morning with a big headache and throbbing finger I sprained yesterday. After doing my morning chores and having my breakfast, I headed to the library to work my shift as a librarian. I loved my job. It was easy work and pays well for my welfare. Lots of people were at the library today, because of a book sale, so I had to stay until nine p.m. before I go home.
When I took the shortcut towards home, through a graveyard, I had an eerie feeling that something was there. It was nine-thirty, and pretty dark, so I could hardly make out shapes far ahead of me. I chided myself for being spooked for no reason and get a grip on myself. But as I was walking ahead, I saw something glowing ahead of me. I never believed in ghosts, but I could have swore I saw a face amidst the glowing circle.
“Mother,” it said. “Mom, why did you run away from me, your only child? I cried for days on end and lived in despair. I will exact my revenge upon you, and you will live in despair for the rest of your life!”
The ghost of my child disappeared into thin air and I was left terrified by the image I have seen with my own eyes.
September 26, 1996
As I walked up to my old apartment I was terrified and scared of what I would meet. When I knocked on the door, I was greeted with the sight of a man with a sober expression and sad face. At the sight of me, he froze, shocked.
“Greta, where have you been all this time? I don’t ever want to see you again lady! Get away with you! You left me and your son without a care in the world tramping of to God knows where, and you expect me to greet you with open arms! Get out!”
“Wait! I just want to know what happened to Farus,” I pleaded.
“He died of cancer a few days ago,” he said, and slammed the door in my face.
December 12, 1996
“She’s still quiet and withdrawn. I think she is still deep in her depression,” the nurse informed the doctor.
“Make sure she eats and drinks regularly. Don’t let her harm herself in any way,” the doctor ordered.
But the next day, they found out she killed herself by swallowing lots of medicine pills found in the cabinet.
She was wearing the exact same clothes she wore on the day she drove away from her son, and on her was a note that said:
“Now you know how it feels like. To live without hope!”
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