I remember that a man once told me that “A life worth living is a life you built with your own two hands. The world around you can never define who you are or who you become. The decision is yours and yours alone as we have the freedom of choice.”
I walked across my office and opened my supply locker. I pulled out a guitar case and opened it. Inside, I saw something that reminded me of who I was; a symbol of hope, a symbol of light that shines in the darkness.
There used to be a man who held me together, the man was no mere person in the background, nor was he a simple bystander on the street. He was a hero, my hero. Through it all, I thought that I defined myself through my actions and how I lived my life. Before all this, this power and position, before the academy, the man who defined who I was, was a man filled with hope, with love and success in his own right. He used to write songs, singing on the street, wanting to be heard, wanting to become someone who he shouldn't be.
I saw him every day across the dump that I call home. He always visited the slums of Orient City. The man was dressed in a white uniform with a black belt and black leather shoes. When he removes his white hat and starts to play music on the side of the street near the train station, people cheer and dance around while he plays his catchy tunes and songs. Every time he visited was a concert. The only time I saw all those people in the slums join together, sharing food and drinks, was when he played for them.
Everyone was nice and kind, offering him drinks and food that they had saved for that very occasion. It deeply irritated me. All those people joining together and having fun were scum just like me, people who rob and steal and fed off people like that singer person. I used to believe that people who do wrong, everyone like myself, do not have the right to enjoy life’s pleasures. So there came a time, out of spite, before his performance ended, I stole one of his bags that contained some of his personal belongings. He was rich. All of the items in his bag could be sold for unimaginable amounts of Swarfs. Items from pearl necklaces to Noblesse History Books, all rare items that can't be found anywhere in the city.
I found myself running for my life a few moments later. A man saw me steal the singer's bag and called the attention of the crowd that gathered there. I ran across the back alleyways, jumping and skipping all the debris and trash along the way. But then I stepped on some broken glass and slid through the ground. I was running barefoot as I had lost my flip-flops earlier while I made my escape.
The mob had caught on to me. A woman dragged me by my hair as the crowd cleared a way for her to get across to the singer who was standing in the back. Once we reached him, the woman demanded me to apologize to the singer. She forced me into a kneeling position. She tried scaring me, saying that they'll throw me to the AOA’s if I don't apologize. But in that moment, I felt nauseous, the blood from my injured feet poured out like water from a cup that had spilled. The woman started smacking the back of my head, trying to force me to respond.
My vision started to blur, and my body weakened. Everything was fading to black and I felt my body become heavier as I dropped to the ground. Then there was nothing, only the sounds of people murmuring echoed across my mind.
The next thing I knew, the sun was shining on my face. I felt its warmth seep through me, nourishing me for the first time in a long while. I opened my eyes and found myself in a bed. The yellow rays from the sun coming from the window lit the room from right to left. I sat up and looked around, trying to grasp where I was. As I was glancing through the room, I saw the singer sitting on a wooden chair, clutching his guitar case and bags in front of him.
When I tried to move, I felt my right hand tug something. I saw my right hand was connected to an I.V. drip; a little blood spilled inside the tube connected to the syringe that had raptured a vein from the tug. There were also electrodes attached to my chest that connect to the heart rate monitor, and then I realized that I was in a hospital room. But the question I had in my mind was why.
“You, hey, you there!” I shouted.
The singer jumped out of his seat and breathed out a short gasp while dropping some of his bags in the process. I pulled out the electrodes off my chest and got out of bed. The heart rate monitor flatlined and started sounding a loud irritating beep. I pulled the I.V. drip stand and started walking towards him. He looked at me with a sense of bewilderment. I stopped in front of him and reached down for his bag and handed it over to him. The door slammed open as two nurses rush inside the room.
“I’m Goldie, and you are?” I said to him as he looks at me with a smile.
It took about a month and a half for my wounds and bruises to heal. Every day, the singer would visit me and bring me different presents to suit my needs. At first, it was just a fruit basket, then it became toiletries like toothbrushes, dental floss, and the like. The day came that I was finally cleared to go home, wherever home was. I had no idea where I was or how to get back to the Orient City slums. I didn’t even have the tiniest of ideas as to where my clothes were.
That time, I thought of what was next, what to do and how to go on, to maybe hustle again in this place, wherever I am. I knew that nothing would change or should change. I needed to fend for myself and that was the only fact that I know of in life. As I thought of what to do, the door opened and the singer came in with his usual smile, his hands behind him as if he was hiding something.
He approached me and held out a blue and white dress. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. There were golden frills on the edges that accentuated the figure of the dress entirely. On the back, there was a white ribbon that held the dress together by the waist. To top it all off was a blue shrug blazer with gold and white accents which made the dress look even more elegant than it was.
“For you, little one, wear this out that door,” he said to me with utmost joy.
“But why?” I puzzlingly replied.
“Because this world isn’t always sticks and stones. The world can be nicer if we wanted it to,” he replied.
“Would you like to join me on a little trip?” He added.
Back then, I was still confused as to what was happening. Each day he visited, I asked him why he saved me. Why was it that a child so dangerous, a child that focused her skills and knowledge in doing devious deeds, who’s thrown herself in the gutter and who lived off pickpocketing the likes of him, had been saved from a fate that should have relieved them from this eternal struggle of life? He never answered, he only sang away, asking me to critique his new songs. This had always been in the back of my mind.
“Answer me, why did you save me?” I said in an irritated tone.
“You should have let me die and ended all this pain!” I exclaimed.
“Hmm… why is it? Maybe… because children like you need to enjoy life a little more,” he said with a smile.
“11-year old kids should be out there playing their hearts out. Kids like you should be ignorantly enjoying all the time as the way life should be enjoyed. Because life should be enjoyed in the purest way possible, the way only a kid can,” he added with a simple nod and wink.
“I'm not a kid. I can handle myself!” I screamed.
“I have been through so much more than you and survived with my own two hands! I could have been dead, but I never gave up. So, don't treat me like some petty child,” I added as my eyes started to tear up.
“I know. And that's the reason why I didn't give up on you as well. Because your strength came from pain, pain that made you grow up too fast, pain that made you forget who you really are. Let me repay what the world has owed you,” he softly said.
I started bawling. My mind went blank as the simplicity of his thinking was out of my comprehension. I was frustrated and angry. I was so confused and beside myself as to why he did all that he did. I do not succumb to kindness that easily, but his words pierced through me, striking my heart. Because the reality of it all was, those words that he said were the words that I have longed for all my life.
In the process of searching for my true parents, journeying this world without a trace or clue of where to start, not only did I lose track of them, I also lost track of who I truly was. I was lost, confused and without an identity. The only thing I knew was my name, “Goldie”; the monks kept calling me because of my long golden hair.
I cannot forget his warmth, he hugged me and comforted me as if relieving me of all the pain I've felt. It felt like he was trying to burn it all away, making me forget all that I had been through. It was the first time I felt someone’s warmth, to feel a loving presence clutching me in their arms and caring for me for no reason at all. Someone who loved you for the very simple reason of loving, the purest kind of love there is.
“Atalia, that'll be your name. Atalia Reign of Orient City,” he said to me while petting my head to calm me down.
“As a child who has seen the light and dark, be the sky that has seen the countless conflicts that had been fought and the unwavering peace that comes after the smoke and fires. Be the horizon that envelops the lands, be the Azure sky that links the heavens to our world.” he proudly added.
From then on, I carried this name and stood by his side, be it the good days or the bad ones. He taught me elegance, diligence, and perseverance. We lived in a three-bedroom suite at The Golden House inside Illustrado Heights. It was just me, him, and Rosemary the maid. Our home was beautiful, and everything was neatly placed. The living room always smelled like fresh flowers which delighted me every time I woke up and left my room to get breakfast.
He taught me household chores, to make everything as clean and as pristine as I can. How to stand, sit, and eat with proper poise and to have manners in everything I do, be it talking or eating, simply, he made me elegant. He raised me like a princess from a prestigious family, even though I was a mere animal in the wilderness.
He taught me everything I know about the world. He made me see the light, that people aren't all that hopeless. We went everywhere, from the ins and outs of Ironhart City, the seaside beaches of Ironite City, and the cold mountain tops of Peak City. He taught me advanced Arithmetic and Sciences whenever he was around and not working. Every moment was new, every sight was exciting. I was filled with hope and love unlike before. I was looking forward to the future for the first time in my life.
I never questioned who he was. I knew him only as a singer, yet my trust in him was unquestioned. It was my faith in him that made me loyal and I trusted his decisions wholeheartedly. For a person who was lost like a stray dog, being picked up by a warm-hearted human being is all I ever needed. There wasn't a day I didn't feel loved, even the days when I was scolded for my words or actions. I cried but I always tried to remember how lucky I was to have found a parent in the most unlikely way possible.
But then came a day filled with dark clouds. The rain was pouring everywhere, I looked outside the window and there was no one on the streets. The loud thunder and the scary lightning strikes made me hide under the sheets in my room while waiting for him. I was starting to get worried then I suddenly heard a loud slam coming from the living room. I rushed outside and saw the singer kneeling, palms down on the rug by the coffee table. He was exhausted as if he just ran for his life. Rosemary rushed to aid him while wiping the rain fused with sweat from the singer's face.
In the dark, he held me by my shoulders, his eyes wide open and fear was written all over his face. He hugged me tight and said,
“Atalia, listen to me, my child. I need you to run. Run away as far as you can and never look for me,”
“But never forget what I taught you, the only thing I can give you now is your freedom and the knowledge I instilled in you. The freedom from what I have done and what I dragged you into,” he added with tears raining down from his eyes.
“But why, what's happening? What did you do?” I exclaimed, shocked and confused.
“I lead people to open their eyes to the world around them. I lead them on the journey to seek true freedom,” he replied.
“But isn't that good?” I asked him.
“Yes, but Atalia, never forget that the world is controlled by powerful people, people who would lose that power once the masses are freed from their reigns.”
“Always remember that a life worth living is a life built by our own two hands. The world can never define who you are or who you become. The decision is yours and yours alone as we have the freedom of choice, and this is why I do what I do, because freedom is everything.”
“But freedom is a mighty weapon. It can be used by both good and bad people. It is a double-edged sword that can only be wielded properly by an individual brave enough to renounce evil and use it to lead the people away from worldly desires and make them understand the true essence of life.”
“Now go, live on in my stead, carry with you everything that I have taught you and never forget. You are the future, my future and everyone else’s. You are me and I am you, we are one in both mind and soul, you are my legacy. You have seen what it takes to live in the dark and have understood the true essence of love while living in the light. Grow up and grow even stronger, lead us to the freedom that we all want to achieve.”
He opened his white blazer and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small pinned emblem. It was golden with a shape of a sun as if it fused with a compass. The northern, eastern, western, and southern poles were ray-like arrows as if to stretch out. It's a symbol of light, a symbol of renewed hope in all directions of the world. He put it inside my blazer and patted it as if to say that I should secure it with my life.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
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