CHAPTER 3 A TRIP TO THE PAST

SABRINA POV Soon the beautiful dream changed, and my eyebrows forrowed in pain.   The memories came back like someone was trying to punish me for dipping my head into a sea—a sea of memories I wished to forget.   That night, I couldn't help but remember them; they weren't laughing like they used to, but they were arguing. I didn't know what they were talking about because I was still so young, but then my mother's voice seemed to raise, still saying some words my brain was trying to decipher.   They didn't care that they were arguing in front of a child; they didn't seem to mind, and all they probably cared about was themselves. Selfish, distracting father while he was trying to drive. Maybe Mother was the selfish one; she should have waited till we got home.   The words cheat entered my ears, but after that, their grammar seemed too high for me to understand.   Then came the headlights, which made me look at the front of the car where it was coming from with a puzzled expression in my face. Why would another car shine their headlights at us? Were they trying to stop my mom and dad's argument?   "Mummy, daddy. There is a light in the front." I spoke, but they didn't seem to hear me. I tried to shout it, but they didn't even look my way.   "Dad!" I yelled when he snapped his face towards me.   "Keep your mouth shut," he yelled at me before continuing with trying to balance the car, but why couldn't they notice it? The car lights in front?   She pushed him, suddenly making the car swerve, and that's where it started—my worst nightmare as the car with the headlights was trying to avoid us, but we kept driving into his lane.   "You bastard, how could you keep it from me for years?" Those were the only words I could pick up.   Then there it was—the scream from my mother as she looked in front of her. I have never seen her this angry. It felt like she was pouring out her frustration for the first time. My ever-so-calm mother looked so different as she yelled at my father to drive properly, but he didn't seem to be in control of the car anymore.   She didn't look towards me to hold me in her arms and protect me from the crash, even though I yelled her name, and just like that, the car flipped over immediately and hit the other one in front.   I felt it spinning in the air, and it made me wonder if my mother hated me or if they were arguing because of me because I've been a bad girl.    That's it   I could feel the glass shards pierce through my skin as my mom's screams seemed to fill the quiet night. What of the other person, then? Was the person alright? Was the person's family also arguing like mine? Did they have a child at the back too?   I thought we would all do it, but fate had other plans for me; he didn't die, and neither did I, but she did. The other driver is still in the hospital.   Soon I was standing in front of my mother's grave, weeping, while my father seemed to stare blankly. That day, he told me to go on with grandma and grandpa; he said they'd keep me safe.   Then I thought it would be better; he said he'd come and see me once in a while, but he never came back. I never saw him again. I thought again that if I've been a good child, they won't leave me. No,  both of them really won't leave me alone if I'm really good.   Grandma said it wasn't my fault; I saw a new light in it all. I was just a child, and I forgot after two months. It was different, but it was fine.   As the memories of the beautiful flowers blooming filled my mind, so did the smell slip into my nose, like I was going back to that time. I could feel my hands tapping lightly on the flowers heads, even though grandma warned me a lot of time not to touch them.   Her voice danced in my ear. "Do not touch the flowers, Sabrina."   "Can i-"   "Neither can you pluck them. They have thorns; even the most beautiful ones have thorns. They could hurt you. What's your favorite flower?"   "Dandelions"    "Hm, just like your mother. I thought it would be the rose."    She saw nothing but warmth in her eyes, those beautiful eyes that reflected the stars, and her hair, which had gotten white with old age. She would always comb her hand through her wild hair to tame it down, or Grandpa would always help her if he could.    When I saw their love, I wished my father could have had the same with my mother. I wish I could feel that love from someone too in the future.   Grandma always said that my mother got married to the wrong person; that's why her life was cut short, but does that mean I wasn't meant to be born? I was a mistake never to exist.   Her wise eyes always seemed to see through my thoughts, and she'd tap my head with her knuckles like she was tapping a coconut.   Even when I grumbled that it hurt, she didn't stop.   I also didn't want her to stop; when she did, she'd compensate me with a snack. Hard candy.   Then was grandpa, who kept showing me his golf ball and kept telling me stories about his old days; some big words I couldn't understand were always in there, but I didn't mind.   All I had to do was, as grandma said, sit like you are listening and do not say anything. That was enough to make the old man happy.    They were my father's parents, but they seemed to like my mother more, which made me puzzled but I didn't ask as a young girl because I didn't really care; I liked it if they liked mother more. Father is going to keep doing as he wishes till he learns his lesson, like Grandpa always says. I always agree with him, but I always go to the corner too to pray, like Grandma taught me, so he'd come to pick me up quickly.   I didn't heed Grandma's words very often then. I took things that weren't mine; I was a bad girl, lying. I always gave both of them a hard time, grandma and grandpa. Most times, I didn't let grandpa say his stories fully; instead, I'd interrupt. Now I wish I was nicer.   I didn't even notice they were so old; both their hair was gray and their faces covered in wrinkles, as was their whole body. Their bodies were so soft; I thought it was because they were nice people, but I didn't realize old age had caught on to their tails.   That was what I thought when I saw both of them being buried in front of me a year later, and I broke down.   Everywhere I go, bad luck seems to follow.   Mother died because of me, now grandma and grandpa.