COLOURS

I dream of a big big big enormous house by the lake, and a swarm of doves swimming and a swing for me to ride on it.

My spouse, with his muscular build, tanned skin, large shoulder to pick me up and bring me to bed.

Me, having a twin of boy and girl. Two years old, to be specific.

My brown curls, and his smelly sweaty shirt... Sleeping on the bed.

Loving ourselves. Love till our death.

No..... That was only my dream.

No! I was locked in this small house.
I looked at my large tattooed scar. As big as a ladybug.  My left hand, and my knee.

I fell down the stairs. Mama pushed me down the stairs, because I did not bring her cookies to her room. Maybe I did forget.

My Dada, smoking cigar and throwing it in my face. "You dimwit, you never clean up after yourself! I wonder why your stupid Marco  loved you even when you're this stupid!"

Marco, he was shot dead. Dada gunfired him. He was on the tree, waiting for me, while I was locked in the closet.

Dada and Mama throwing things into the closet to punish me.

 My scars too swollen. As i asked them to go out.

" Need a medicine for this, Ma"

An excuse I used to get out and draw my paintings my art.


"She likes to draw," I remembered Marco told them...



I drew the famous man in town, Mr Abraham.
He bought the painting.
With a 5Dollar in my pocket. I can only get a bagel or a croissant with this.

He fell in love with the drawing.

I told him " I can do more, sir. I can write letters, draw, clean the house for you," but then I realised it was a wrong move. 

He moved in closer, getting on my thigh, whispering " More than that? Popping your cherries, yet?"

I swore to god I was going to scream and kick his ass. When I saw my Dada and Mama across the block, I immediately ran and hid in the convenience store.


" I will, but do not tell them I was here." I told Mr Pervert Abraham.

A few moments later a staff recognised my existence in the store and he threw me out.

"Look at you, dirty, nasty, with your red scar as big as a ladybug"!


I hid them under my sleeves.  My scar was too ugly. I walked away, many many blocks away from the pervert man and my Dada and Mama.

A long journey, I came to a place "Anna Budget Room". It would cost me a 20Dollar for a night here so i put on my thinking cap.

I went to the budget room and asking for a place to do my drawing. "I am not here to stay, just a place to do my art. I can sell it to those who come by and will give you the money. I just want a place to draw," I told the woman (owner of the budget room).

After few hesitations, she said yes. I was given a small space for me to draw for a night. And if I fail to sell my art to the visitors who come, she would not give me free spaces anymore.

I kept drawing like crazy.

Blue oceans, brown mountains, red lobsters, fine dining plates, in a huge white mansion, with many great people in it.

The corporates in blue suit, the swimming pool, green apple mojito, tan and cute bartenders. Whatever that I could think of.


I slept my night with all the colours everywhere.

I did a few, wait no!

1, 2,3.... what?

10  paintings!!! If I could sell them, I could stay longer in this room.


The owner told me to  go out.

 She reminded me " Would you like to go to the lake and the doves? For your art? You can also sell your art to those who open their stalls there. And remember, only until tonight!"


"Sure, I would love to. Thank you, Madame."
I brought my paintings and my colours to the lake.

At last, I was freed from Ma and Dada.



I sat there by the bench watching doves swimming. I started drawing when suddenly

They ran when a boat came.

I wanted to draw the boat
and saw a particular white body's drowning. 

Floating.

Suffocated by immersion in the lake's water.

 I could see the water bubbles. He was deprived of oxygen as he kept struggling. His stomach bloated. I think he already lost his consciousness. He gave up the remaining tidal air in his lungs. His fingertips were swollen, pale as dead meat.

He was nearing me. The edge of the lake.

I tried to pull him over. I couldn't so I called people to help.

"Someone,  call the ambulance!" People coming my way, the crowd taking picture, and only a few came to help.


Mr Abraham. That was him. I could recognise his exclusive watch,and his blue coat. He was dying right in front of me.


Part 2


"Let him just die. Oh God! He is no good man, he hurt me. He deserves this!" I heard someone's inner voice.

I turned to the crowd.

I saw smone in the crowd holding my painting of him, and she tossed it into the garbage bin. I ran towards her,  leaving the crowd.

"Madame!"

" He is no good man. Same like your parents, Tia," she stuttered while holding her fist.

His wife was faceless, she has scars on her neck, very deep. She always wore black dress. She held into my left hand scar.

" they don't deserve life. They should go to hell!" She said with anger.

And then she left like a wind howling, I still could hear her. "I wish you to live as a dog, Abraham!" She swore on her abusive husband.


Part 3

After the chaotic event, I jumped on my bed to draw again. The owner stopped by , telling that a man wanted to buy all my paintings.

I have not finished with the second order. she told me to stop drawing and just sell it to the man.

"All the 10 paintings?!"

I asked.

" Yes dumb!" She said.

On my way out, I saw a dark tan man, half face. I only could see the corner of his left face.

 "Sir, how much can you offer?"

He held out his hand to shake my hand. I couldn't see his face. 

I wanted to see his face. "No, you cannot see me! Just leave the paintings on the door and I will give you money. Hurry up before... "

A thumping sound, loudly, angerily made by someone upstairs.

We both heard  it. I was struck by the man action to enter his room and slam the door.

"What? "  I was confused, I felt heavy with whatever was that I heard.

Then, I went back to my room.

I heard a voice saying "dont dare to hit me."

A minute after, I heard a woman screaming, throwing things.

"You son of a b.... !" the voice said.

A muffle noise  like someone scratching the wall, pushing something hard. Knocking on something hard with something else.

As I stared at the sketch, my mind searched for clues. What could happen in the next door? Was the man hurting? Or was he hurting someone?


A noise I heard "Auch! Erghhh!!! No! Ahhh! Stop!"

You did it again. You hurt me!" Again repeatedly.


I hurried to the next room. Empathetic feelings towards what could happen to the woman in the next door. Just like what happened to me and my parents.

To a distressed scene that had I witnessed. It was the man whose finger was broken, Maybe by glasses. His left hand was a pool of blood. Knife,  glasses were everywhere. The broken mirror pieces too.

I saw the woman, in the grey coat. I threw the vase towards her . She ran away and went out.

She pushed me to the floor. I hurt my knee.

And then  she laughed. Her shoulders
shaking hardly as her wicked laugh continued.


Ironically, it was the woman who abused her man.

Man crying for pain, the blood on the floor flowed freely on the carpet. Thick and reddish blood. His lips turned greyish and cold, suffocating from too much bleeding . He lost a lot of blood !



I wonder if he could make it.  The distance from the budget room to the nearest hospital is around 3-4 hours journey.


A handkerchief I took for stopping the blood from his veins flowing out. I felt nauseaus.

Madame owner and her son came and put some herbal leaves on his wrist.

I stuttered. "I was .... I .... sir... How... And Who is ... I ..... I"

"STOP! Send him to the clinic now!" She yelled at her son.

.......


A moment of silence.... I could not think, my breath felt heavy, my feet felt paralysed and I was struck by a lightning...

The voice hummed "Mmm... "

I looked at my sketchbook and the paintings that he bought. 

"Here you go, a 1000 Dollar from the late Mr Half face..." said Madame's son. He giggled at the man's name.

" Did he buy all your colours, art and whatsoever, dearie?" asked Madame Owner.

" Yes, he did. Is he stable? Is he conscious now?" I asked for a confirmation.


They were silent. They looked down.


Again, I heard a voice humming "Mmm... Mountains... c.... chairs.... colourful place.... Pppurrr.... perfect!"

My colour pencils scattered all around the table. Waiting for me to paint a new sketch.