A Loss

The situation in my hometown had gone from bad to worse. Everybody used to be a united community and helping one another was a common sight. However, everything had changed after the Bali blast incident several months ago. A tension of distrust sparked off between the Muslims and other religious groups. Neighbours did not communicate with one another anymore. My father, who was one of the town councils, in turn, had a great dilemma over this. His constant worry about the racial tension made him imsonial. I myself was worries about his deteriorating health over the months.

It was a cold night. Wrapping myself with my old blanket did not help at all. I could not shut my eyes. I did not want to have tomorrow. That day, a fire, believed to be started by the Muslims, engulfed the whole stretch of shops. Thirty people died and two of them were my good friends, whose parents owned jewellery shops there. Now, I was petrified not to receive any news from Jeremy. He was my childhood friend and the one who understood me more than others. I had not heard from him for almost a week and I myself could not be sure whether he was still alive or dead.

Suddenly, I heard purposeful steps and unnecessary noises from outside. Panicked, I looked out of the window.A throng of men, bringing parangs and petroleum lamps was storming towards my house. I quickly rushed down the stairs, approached Father's room, went in without knocking and whispered to him that a group of men would be coming to our house and harm us. He just nodded solemnly, not even saying a word. The next thing I knew, our house's front was already forcefully opened and footsteps began to imbue the stillness of the house. Father quickly shoved me towards the secret passage under his bed, my favorite place when I was young.

As expected, the troop of men enter Father's room. Father remained calm, sitting on the bed and greeting them with a forceful smile.

"Cut all the nonsense, Chief! We are sorry if we have to say goodbye to you and your daughter tonight. This city isn't safe anymore. It will be a town of distruction soon." The large, burly and bearded man, believed to be the leader of the group, said his introduction. I did not recognise him at all.

"You can kill me if you like, but don't you dare to touch my daughter. She has done nothing wrong." Father pleaded for mercy, but the group seemed unmoved.

The leader did not wait for long before he slashed his parang towards Father's chest. Unimpressed by his inhuman act, he asked his men to beat Father with the petroleum lamps, while he engraved another cut around Father's throat.

The scene was so horrifying that I felt like vomitting. I wanted to shout for help, but my throat was too dry and I knew I would not survive this assassination attempt. I finally cried. Here I was, in the world of truth, where agression might happen anytime and I was all alone, without any support.

The leader asked his men to stop the beating and ordered them to do a search on me. I recognised Jeremy among the group. He was the last man who exited the room and his eyes narrowed to my hiding place. It was the most heart-wrenching eye contact ever. His expression was cold, but bore friendliness. I had expected him to inform the troop about my presence, but to my delight, he shut the door and gave me an apologetic smile.

After all the men were gone, I wailed uncontrollably, having Father's lifeless body on my lap. I kissed his bleeding forehead tenderly and close his eyes with my palm. That day, I had lost two most important things in my life--a father figure and the trust that I had given to human beings for the past sixteen years of my life.