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TRANSLATION OF A SCREENPLAY

(INSPIRED BY REAL EVENT)

I was six and in kindergarten.

What exactly happened? I don’t seem to remember. The only thing I remember was being in pain, great pain. I’ve been having bad dreams since I don’t know when. It’s always the same. I was in an endless abysmal. At the end of that endless darkness, two bloody red eyes pierced through my skin.

It was his eyes, of that I’m sure.

He has a lovable face. He has a lovable smile.

He taught us math. We called him “grandpa.” When his body thrusted heavily against mine, his eyes was piercing though my flesh. I was in pain, great pain. But he was smiling, as always. I begged him to stop.

It’s just a game

he said, a game that all kids play with their teachers. Now it’s your turn.

He said his telescope was long enough to reach my windows. Whatever I say he hears it; whatever I do he sees it. His telescope reaches from everywhere and nowhere. It’s there every night. It won’t go away.

It is a game, right?

When the scars were replaced by fresh wounds, I realized that it is not a hide-and-seek. It’s his game— but my nightmare.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to break down, and rip that lovable smile off that lovable face. But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I was a coward. I hate that I was a coward.

Will I go back to the way I once was? No, as much as I hope the answer is yes.

Age

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