I look at another me in the mirror. I know it wasn’t me. I know it is not Nisa that once was so alive, so cheerful and always curious. That, a person over there is just a body with empty soul.
A figure of man appears in the frame, right behind me. I can see him scanning my body through the reflection. He turn my body facing toward him and he gently stroke my face. I couldn’t help but stare to his eyes. All I see is nothing but lust.
I know what he’s going to do next, just like the other day when my mother got caught storing cassava she was suppose to hand over to men in uniform or another day when my father caught red-handed trying to bring my mother and I to a picnic in the forest across the border.
He throw me to the bed roughly. Rip my shirt and skirt. The clothes that my parents tore their bone to purchase them. He is into my body, undermining it like a wild wolf. I groan in pain, he grins. I stay still, he moves roughly. This time, I find no rage or fear inside me. I feel nothing, I feel numb. The other night I would cry until the dawn broke, but now, I just lie awake, staring at the ceiling.
“Sshhh, don’t be sad. You're beautiful and you’re a hero to your family. No reason not to be proud of yourself,” he whispers against my ear. His breath smells like dry blood. I couldn’t help but looking away.
He is right. I am the hero of my family. If it’s not because of me, being born as a girl 12 years ago, they would have been in prison.
“Your father wasn’t taking you to picnic. He was trying to kidnap you, take you away from the government. The one that gives you security. He’s no good man. He’s suppose to be imprisoned,” he says as he stroke my hair.
“No, he is a good man. You are not,” I say in low voice.
“I am the man in uniform. You know what you heard about us. We’re the hero. Your teacher already taught you that in school right?” he speaks in higher tone
“Yes, sir.”
“if it wasn’t because of me, your father would have to had his ID card remade. He would be labeled as PKI and no one would talk to him, even stare at him. You understand, flower?”
“Yes, sir.”
I sleep with a hero just the same age as my father. I save my family in young age and I am beautiful. How can I be not proud?
A figure of man appears in the frame, right behind me. I can see him scanning my body through the reflection. He turn my body facing toward him and he gently stroke my face. I couldn’t help but stare to his eyes. All I see is nothing but lust.
I know what he’s going to do next, just like the other day when my mother got caught storing cassava she was suppose to hand over to men in uniform or another day when my father caught red-handed trying to bring my mother and I to a picnic in the forest across the border.
He throw me to the bed roughly. Rip my shirt and skirt. The clothes that my parents tore their bone to purchase them. He is into my body, undermining it like a wild wolf. I groan in pain, he grins. I stay still, he moves roughly. This time, I find no rage or fear inside me. I feel nothing, I feel numb. The other night I would cry until the dawn broke, but now, I just lie awake, staring at the ceiling.
“Sshhh, don’t be sad. You're beautiful and you’re a hero to your family. No reason not to be proud of yourself,” he whispers against my ear. His breath smells like dry blood. I couldn’t help but looking away.
He is right. I am the hero of my family. If it’s not because of me, being born as a girl 12 years ago, they would have been in prison.
“Your father wasn’t taking you to picnic. He was trying to kidnap you, take you away from the government. The one that gives you security. He’s no good man. He’s suppose to be imprisoned,” he says as he stroke my hair.
“No, he is a good man. You are not,” I say in low voice.
“I am the man in uniform. You know what you heard about us. We’re the hero. Your teacher already taught you that in school right?” he speaks in higher tone
“Yes, sir.”
“if it wasn’t because of me, your father would have to had his ID card remade. He would be labeled as PKI and no one would talk to him, even stare at him. You understand, flower?”
“Yes, sir.”
I sleep with a hero just the same age as my father. I save my family in young age and I am beautiful. How can I be not proud?
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