Traces Of Tomorrow | A. Portgas

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What does it mean to harbor hatred and to gain mutual love?

I had read in a book once that hatred is a strong word that carries a deep void of anger and disgust. When I was 3 years old, I was hit in the back with a empty bottle of an alcohol from my mother.

That was practically my first memory that I could remember.

She bore hatred towards her child that was born out of loveless arranged marriage and sexual assault. She couldn't pour all her anger and sadness towards her neglecting husband that was driven by greed for pleasures such as money, lust and ecstasy. And the fact I looked more like my father only added to the fuel of my mother's hatred. What a wonderful family indeed.

As a child I could only watch and feel pity for my mother and father no matter how much bruises and scars they inflicted me mentally, emotionally and physically.

There was a time when I was around 4 years old I walked down the cold street where it was raining mildly with no umbrella. I was on my own due to my father's visitors who I can't define as friendly. I go outside once in a while and it never really bothered my parents on where I go.

I was soaked head to toe but that didn't bother me, what catched my eye was when a child around my age slipped due to the wet ground, I saw how their mother immediately comforted the child with a hug as soon as they started crying and that's when something came to my mind.

On the next day, I saw my mother through the open door who was having her breakdown again, she destroyed the vase and lantern in their room, she ripped up the blanket and pillows on their bed.

I was used to this kind of scenes, all I could do as a child was waiting for her anger to die down and shifts to sadness. And when my mother started crying on the floor crouching down wailing.

I walk slowly to her and gave her a hug just like the mother did to her child on the street.

"Mom don't cry.."

I was expecting her to calm down except I got the opposite. My mother flinched from the sudden touch and pushed me away with sudden strength.

"No! Don't touch me!"

It made my back connect to the floor a meter away from her. I looked at her and saw how she looked at me with fear and disgust that was on her face but after a while her face slowly turned into anger once again.

"You..!"

I realized my own mother hated me. She couldn't accept all of the pain and just lash out all her hatred towards her child that has the majority of genes of her father. She don't see me as her child but as an image of my father.

At the age of 6, I continued to bear all the sufferings despite the scars and bruises that tainted my whole body. Regardless of my parents upbringing, I took care of them. When my mother fell asleep from her mental breakdowns, I would cover her with blanket and set aside a water for her to drink when she wakes up.

And when my father would passed out drunk, I would also cover him with a blanket and set aside a water with medicine that could subside his hangovers.

At that age, even when my own blood would come out and ran down from bleeding, and when my heart ached from all the pain. When my skin was painted black and blue. I became the parent of my parents.

Children loves with no bounds till it becomes temporary.

My father and his friends decided to have one of their drinking party again at home. Whenever his friends came over, I would either stay in my room or go outside till they leave. I didn't want to repeat on what happened last time.