I'm so sorry" I mumbled, keeping my head down. I felt guilty, I thought perhaps it's my fault if only I didn't say that, pointing out all his failed past relationships with my moms, my real mom, then my stepmother Melinda. Dad, then while steering his wheel, driving the car, now, at a careful speed, patted down my right arm.

"No, it's okay. We'll first go to the pharmacy to buy your medicine" he said, then took back his arm on the maneuver.

I thought for the whole drive as I gaze at the morning that slowly rolling to a hazy afternoon — besides the near-death experience that just happened, what was it that really made changed Dad. How he was before; he was a former soldier, who proudly ventured to the wars with his brave men, fought to the chaos of another country, he's always been this kind of stuff of a 'superhero' for me. He will proudly tell me when I was younger how brave he'll fight with the corrupts and criminals and burst out in laughter whenever he goes home a few days in a month, that if he goes home- breathing- but lost some of his limbs- we should be at least thankful, he's alive. But then, one day when he came from a ceasing fire — he never expected that while he's fighting and saving some lives in a foreign country, his wife— my mother— was struggling for it. I didn't even know how serious it was at a younger age until we both came to my own mother's funeral, grieving in great despair. And I missed her so much as well as I know Dad badly misses her too: Dad then, took his retirement at '40s, that's when he met this girl, Melinda. Long story short, this girl left him in the end, but not by seeing her dead, too, lying on her own coffin, but by cheating on him. Dad found her and her newly wed boyfriend at a restaurant, and to think how heartbreaking is that.

I looked at him while he drove the car with ease. Before as I would remember, he's always smiling, but not so often now.

I knew he'd already move on. From all of those bad past relationships. And I know it took him years to do that. But I knew, it'd left some scars on him, I couldn't blame him.

We later came to the bustling sound of the main town, through the thundering roar of passing cars and motors, the busy businessman, wearily crossing the cross lane, and then we came at the store and bought not only my medicine for my bruise but also other necessary kinds of stuff. Then they took off the road again, came back home early in the afternoon.

I was staring out to my window to the rippling green sea of treetops, in all different sizes, just at the back of our house, going beyond to the horizon, endless, watch as the bright orange sun dimly dripping down beyond the walling trees, I thought all the crazy stuff happened in just one day. The shockingly dead found body of Mr and ms Calestio's son, hanging on a tree, and the near-death experience we had met, but fortunately avoided before, all this at once sinking in my head, as the sun finally fades away, exchanging for the growing dark on the sky. Then I heard a knock on my door.

"Come in," I said.

Dad materialized behind the door, came clutching my dinner of what looked like corn soup and rice in a container, and then he had the ice-cold pack and the medicine on the side of the container, too.

"Take your dinner," he said "but before that, let me treat your bruise"

He initially laid down first the container of rice and soup and medicine on the higher deck and then took off the pack and medicine together with the lower table and placed it near my bed. I went after him, sat beside him as the wooden, foam-top bed creaked, he then at first, pressed it hard on my bruise that made me ached on my face and moved away.

"Dad take it easy. It hurts" I said

"Oh, I'm so sorry"

Then, he did. From the hard pressing, he came had just patted it, in a rhythmic series, slowly and consciously looking at me too if I was hurting, every now and then.

"Dad, what if, you let grandma stay here?" I said, The lightly touching of the wet cold pack on my shoulder suddenly stopped.

"We can't"

"But why not?"

"She's alone there, and… and there was this seemingly roaming wild sharp-toothed beast in the forest." I said, "aren't you worried?" I started pleading with him.

"That's impossible," he replied.

"Why is that"

"Don't forget your medicine?" he said as he put down the pack, he then fetched the container from the desk and laid it down before me. " just leave it after, I'll clean it "

He was about to go outside, took a few steps, then stopped, and seemed to remember something.

"By the way, I'll be leaving tonight," said Dad

" Where are you going?" I said

" at my shop," he said as he pulled in the door open and went out. I could hear his feet clattering down the stairs and his keys juggling in his pocket, then the opening and closing of the front door in a dull creaking sound, and then— baam!

Soon later I was completely alone in the house, then I'd used to be since Dad had always been busy in his shop. He had once suggested that he teach me on holding guns, but it was something any bit of my interest, haven't had.

Soon, I ingested the hot soup and rice and then took my medicine. Before sleeping I'd closed the door, the window, even though, I'd used to leave the window open every night, but not now, not in the killing that happened just around the area. But had my lights off, I'd thought of leaving it open, but I know I couldn't sleep with bright lights, it will not induce my sleep but make it harder.

Every so often, I would crack open my eyes and check my surrounding, only after closing it again, waiting to fall asleep, but then, checking out again — the door, the window if its fully closed, on either my sideways, at my front, tucking beneath a white-yellowish blanket that reached my shoulder, which another thing that I wasn't used to; I was acting like a paranoid, thinking any moment there would be a blood-thirsty animal prowling in the shadows of my room. But in this kind of condition, I know in every house here, we're doing the same, I wonder how grandma and dad, I wish they're ok and nothing bad would happen to them. Later on, without even realizing, in weary and worried, I'd fallen asleep.

In the morning, still, half-asleep, I heard the dull noise of talking people. At first, I thought, without completely opening my eyes, that my room was crowded with them, but as soon as I woke up, it was completely clear that the noise was coming from outside. I was still dozy and still wanted to sleep, and when I looked at the clock wall; it was only 6, but the arresting fuss from the outside, and in not long, made me awake and suspicious. I had my earliest thoughts about this — the familiar collective sounds of anguish, groups of people crowding around their centerpiece of attraction.

I went hurriedly out of my room, down the short hallway leads to the terrace, had my expectations — to prove my thoughts, and there there are, as I came out exposed to the growing dim light at sky, I overlooked them at the top, everything was clear, and just as I'd thought previously, I was wrong, I had searched the whole area with both my two eyes, through the gaps beneath people's feet, there was only a couple at the middle— caught in a quarrel, whom I supposed living at the house near behind them. The woman and the man were yelling at each other, seemingly not letting each other exchange explanations, but it was too vague for me to hear what they were saying.

Then, from behind me, I heard the metallic door open. I turned around to see dad, had seemingly awakened too, with the intrusive- noises coming from the quarreling couples. Then he came forward outside, grabbed and leaned against the cemented terrace fence.

"Oh God… those two" he mumbled, then shook his head.

Then, he went back again on the hallway, to the stairs already, when he was halfway down there, I called for his name,

"Dad?"

He stopped and looked up from where he's standing,

"Yes?"

I came closer.

"About what?"

"Have you thought about it? About grandma?"

"I'm just worried about her, especially since she's leaving there all alone, and the other houses were a few meters away from hers and it'll be difficult for her to ask for some help if something wrong will happen" I ventured out.

I'm as desperate to make sure that none of them and their lives would be put in danger. Worst still, grandma is already old, she's already in her late 70's. Although every time I go there, I can clearly see that she's still strong and healthy for her age. I know these experiences have already molded her, but she's old to live just by herself. The fact that her life was in a reversal state like a newborn baby, she's becoming weaker and weaker, only now she's nearing her death. And I'm afraid she'll be defenseless in times of danger, when no one's around to at least help her and from the thought of it, if what those people said are real, then it made me more worried and frightened for her own security.

" Yeah… I'd thought about it, and I think you're right"

From hearing it, I felt myself lighten up a little.

"Really?" I asked happily.

" But when?"

" maybe this weekend, she told me, there is something she needed to do first before packing up things and living in her house."

I only nodded great fully on him. Keeping my smile as he finally clattered down the downstairs. Knowing finally we're all going to live in the same house, now I can breathe freely. I had plucked out the prick of worries in my chest, everything will be better soon.

I walk down the stairs to see dad, already occupying one sit on our small dining table, where breakfast was laid, smoky hot. He was puffing on a cigarette, and in his front, on the table, was a cup of coffee. It looks like he's waiting for me.

" Ellena, eat your breakfast already "

Then I came striding, sat upon a wooden leg-high chair, with a sophisticated pattern carved on its back.

"You're not going to school?" As I heard the way he said that, it was somewhat both a statement and a question.

" of course, I am—"

"How's it?" As he glanced quickly over me, then down to my injured shoulder, with a prominent violent bruise, alike to the color of an unpeeled onion.

To be honest, it's a lot better, the pain had receded down remarkably, although I can still feel the pang from it whenever I tried to move, I thought, the school was still important, and if I use this as an excuse, I am not able to catch up for our next lessons. Then I remembered, suddenly, that Mr. Solomon would give a quiz on history today.

" well uh… I'm okay, it's not that painful. I'll go to school today "

"Are you sure?" He asked contemplating as he looked at me.

I only nodded for an answer.

Then, immediately, my desire to go to school was put in the test, as soon as I tried to get the spoon on my plate, the rounded table was too high that I needed for my battered arm to move extra to get it. And before I even hooked- clutched it, my face already grimacing in pain, it hurts so bad. Now, I thought, even just writing notes at school would be hard for me. And dad saw all of it.

" so… can you?" He asked again. I put back my arm on my lap, still holding the spoon. It was like the joints of bones there, were seemingly locked, and when you try to move, it's going to snap.

I sighed and made a quick gesture of 'no'.

"I think it's alright if you at least took a day off, so you'll feel better. Right? Your teacher would say the same thing for sure"