A strange noise scared me out of my dream; a silence welcome me as I sit up on my bed, feeling cold and chilled. Am sure the noise wasn’t from my dreams, but the dancing silence convinced me to sleep back. It might be a dream. I laid down, bedsheets over my body, and the strange noise stung me now, for it was my mom crying; she was begging a stranger.

I hurried down the bed as I heard Robert, my younger brother, crying, too. I walked to the door through the darkness, listening to my heart throbbing. Rapid steps stopped me from touching the knob. Fear encompassed me as I hold my breath for a moment. The knob turned as if it turned by itself. Thank God, had locked the door.

The stranger knocked at my door; I pressed my knuckles on my mouth from making a noise, and I forced myself to lean my ear against the door. Maybe the person might say something.

The knock came harder, the door shook, and sound like it was about to break. I stepped backward before tiptoeing back to my bed, and I crawled under it, my knuckles on my mouth. Tears fell freely as a gunshot opened the door. Torches, flares, black shoes stepping in. At that moment, I realized they’re two, but when something dropped, three hands went down to pick it. One stranger succeeds. I raised my eyebrows, for the stranger picked a condom. That’s when I knew why they were here. I held my breath as the six black shoes stepped near my bed and then stopped. Tears crawled to my lips and taste salty.

I closed my eyes, said a silent prayer, and when I open my eyes, torches flares, it hurt my eyes. They laughed, and I screamed.

Hands pulled me out, and threw me on the bed, torches flares and hurt my eyes once more. I couldn’t see their faces, and all I could say was, “please.”

“Shut up.” The voice wasn’t familiar. It was deep, and I screamed more, but their hands held mine.

I don’t know when my nightgown was gone; I felt naked except for the bra and pants on me. I jumped and landed back on the bed; on the strangers’ hands. My mom cried from the sitting room.

Tears crawled down my cheek when I was about to surrender because my bra was gone, too.

Different colors of torches flares at us and the men let go of my hands. Someone hold my hand, then hugged me. “Annie, are you okay?” She was my mom.

I’m not, she knew too, so I didn’t answer.

“Surrender house,” a cop said, and they arrested the culprits.

I was on my mummy’s lap, sobbing till morning light adorned the sitting room through the window curtains. Not long after my mom wore me a new gown, she opened the door for journalists. They swiftly snapped everywhere, and I, too. I covered my face with a handkerchief. They asked questions, but only my mom and my younger brother answers, and then not long after awkward hours, a gorgeous woman alighted from Mercedes Benz parked beside journalists’ cars. Swiftly, my mum recognized her and hurried to hug her. It seemed they were old school friends. She said she watched the news at her home and then recognized that it was her friend answering questions.

My mom told me we would move to her friend’s house. We parked our clothes and enter the Mercedes Benz, leaving journalists interrogating our landlord. Robert wore a radiant face, glancing about the beautiful car beside me.

“Annie, I’m Eliza and your mom’s bosom friend.” She turned the car to the left side, horning for a bike to pass.

“Thanks for your kindness, madam,” I said

“Your mom deserved more than this,” she said, “And congrats for your scholarship. Your mom just tells me everything, you are as brilliant as your mom.”

My mom looked back from the front seat, feeling proud of what her friend just said.

“Dear Annie,” Mrs. Eliza continues, “my children are attending your school, too. Which grade are you?”

“Grade one,” I said

“Wow, my son was grade one, too.”

“What’s his name?” I can’t wait for an answer when a car hit ours from the bottom. My mom and she hurried out of the car to fight the drunken driver. And here, Robert tingles me in the belly happily.

“Her house would be beautiful. She would buy me a drum kit,” he said.

“When did she tell you that?” I asked.

“I won’t tell you.” He chuckled, dramatizing how he would play the drum kit. He had fallen in love with a drum kit when he saw how they played it in church. Robert would wake us every Sunday so that he won’t miss any beat from his favorite drummer, who was Jackie Lee. A man from the Scottish, who married happily here in America.

“I know she won’t buy a penny for you,” I said

“I don’t care if you believe or not.” He glanced at the wheel and rose to press the horn key.

“Ahh.” I slapped his buttock. “What did you think you are doing?”

He was scared as mom hurried to ask who presses the horn. Robert looked at me and said, “It wasn’t from here.”

“Are you sure?” mom asked me

“Yes,” I said, frowning when Robert giggled.

Not after Mrs. Eliza entered the car and after she drove us to her mansion. I widened my eyes as the gateman opened the beautiful wide gate, and the car slowed in. A handsome man who seem to be Mrs. Eliza’s husband hugged her and welcome us into the ever-beautiful and neat sitting-room I had ever seen. Mr. William, who was Mrs. Eliza’s husband, took Robert to his room. Tears of joy dripped from my mom’s winsome eyes, hugging her bosom friend every minute. She wants to say thank you, but her tears had stopped her voice.

I couldn’t wait to see her children, especially the one she said was in the same grade as me as we sat before juices on the table. Mrs. Eliza went in and came back with her two sons.

I raised my eyebrows without blinking when my eyes were stunned; I dared not to close them. Damned, he was my crush. Harry was more handsome on white singlet and white snicker. I wished his winsome crimson eyes saw the tingling in my heart at that moment. The tingling that welcomes me home; welcoming me into more love. He became my senorita and my melody, and some feelings I cannot define. Then I remembered the notebook, the slaps, and the fight and blood. My voice ran away like a scared kid who run to hide; rivers in the dictionary.

I coughed and hold my stomach.

“What happened to you?” Mrs. Eliza asked me

I coughed once more, harder and louder, still holding my stomach.

Mrs. Eliza and mom hurried to hold me, and Mrs. Eliza said, “Harry, go bring cold water.”

I opened one eye. Harry hurried in and out with a glass cup of water.

“Take Annie,” my mom said, but I refused to open my mouth.

Mrs. Eliza holds my mouth, forcing it open, saying, “Harry, do quick. Pour it in her mouth.”

I opened one eye, widened my mouth, and the water crawled down from the cup Harry held. Swiftly, he dropped the glass cup; it breaks. Everyone looks at him as he walked away.

They don’t know why, but I knew, and he knew, and I believe you knew, too.

I smiled, for the water tasted like ripe orange juice that dropped from the heaven land. Do you get it? If you don’t get it, forget about it.