5- Swing

"Higher, dad! Please! Higher!" A high-pitched merry giggle filled my ears from a far. It was noticeably from a girl who might not be older than eight. But I couldn't see her.

"Any higher and you might end up having a wound, sweetheart," a low voice said. His tone was equally happy. Their laughter mixed in the air with the squeaking sound of the swing as it moved. I still couldn't see them, but I knew they weren't far from me.

It was dark in where I was, but I see some light at the distance. The giggles and squeals were louder there too. I walked, and squinted as my eyes tried to adjust to the new light. The scene that greeted me was familiar. Too familiar.

It was the scene from the picture with the now broken frame. It was my father and I ten years ago. "Higher, dad!" My younger version squealed as she flew to the air, her small hands gripping the chains connecting her seat to the steel bar of the swing. Her smiled lit up the place. I could only recognize the swing and the tree at the center of the park in addition to the two figures.

"Are you happy, Mira?" The man, my father- no, her father, asked as he pushed the girl once more. She giggled and nodded when she was in the air, her hair flew with the wind. "Wooh," The girl squealed before finally digging her heels on the sand to stop the swing.

Panting from the gleeful activity, the girl stood up and walked around to hug her father's waist. "I love you dad," she whispered, looking at the man still with the smile on her face.

Then a high pitched scream filled the air. The place warped and the man didn't resemble anything like the previous one. He was noticeably older, and seemed to be drunk. But the girl didn't change. She was still the same six-year-old girl from the park. She was on the ground, half-lying and looked like she was facing a horrible monster.

"You stupid girl! You don't deserve to live!" The man shouted, and the girl whimpered. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and her lip quivered with fear. Poor girl. The man was not like a monster. He was a monster. I tried to move my foot forward when I saw the man lifting his hand to hit the girl, but I was stopped by unknown force. I couldn't move from my place.

My own eyes filled with tears as I watched my younger self be slapped by her father. "Stop it!" I shouted, but it was like there was an invisible wall between us. I pounded my fist on the wall as the man slapped the girl again on the other cheek. "Stop it! Stop it, please!" I felt hot tears rolled down my cheeks and my knees began to tremble. I was forced to kneel and continued to beg to stop the scene before me. It was horrible. He wasn't my father, but he was at the same time. Please, stop it!

---

 "Mira, wake up," a faint voice and slight shaking tried to pull me out of the nightmare. I felt sticky, my shirt and shorts were sticking to my body. I'm drenched in sweat from head to toe.

"Mira, Mira, wake up," the voice called again, and the shake became harder. I blinked my eyes open only to see a pair of black orbs staring at me with noted concern.

"What are you doing here?" I asked groggily as I rubbed my eyes trying to wash away the remnants of my sleep. The image of the father and daughter from my dream was still there though. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and moved to sit down.

Fay, my sister, stood beside my bed, worry still etched on her face. I noted the light escaping from the slits of my curtain on her back. It was morning again. She shook her head seemingly pulled out of her reverie.

"I've been trying to wake you up for the past fifteen minutes." She said quietly as if she feared she might wake up anyone. She wouldn't. Dad wasn't here. I'm quite sure. He left at two this morning. I frowned and lifted my blanket to stand up.

"You shouldn't have done that," I mumbled as I walked past her to open my door and walked down the hallway to the bathroom, purposely stomping my feet. She had to recognize the lack of snore and irritated grunt from the master's bedroom if she planned to sneak every morning.

I turned on the light and pulled my toothbrush from the holder. I left the door open and found Fay leaning on the doorway looking at me worriedly. "Will you stop it?" I snapped and glared at her through the mirror. I ignored as she huffed and continued to brush my teeth.

The whole time, Fay just watched me, a frown on her face. I scowled at her before I spat. "Why are you here?" I asked as calmly as I could when I turned around and leaned on the sink. She raised one eyebrow and shrugged. "Tomorrow's your first day in the university. I figured you might need some reminder. I know you're a lazy bum. No need to put our family into future humiliation by being late." The softness of her voice gone replaced with complete monotonous indifference.

I rolled my eyes when she left and went downstairs. Humiliation your face. She didn't know what's humiliation and its true meaning. I decided to concede though, just to humor her. Maybe she'll leave me alone if I just ignored her.

I left the bathroom to go to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Fay was on the counter, a bowl of cereals in her hands. "Where's dad?" She asked, finally realizing that I was alone at the house before she came.

"I don't know." I replied coolly as I pulled the bowl and poured some cereals and milk on it. At least I'm telling her the truth. I really didn't know where's he's gone.

"Is he gone last night?" She asked, swallowing a spoonful of milk. I shook my head as I started to eat. I'm not in the mood to answer her really.

"Are you ready?" She asked, and I knew she was pertaining to my classes tomorrow. "Maybe," I shrugged.

"You should be," she countered then proceeded to eat the rest of her meal in silence. Finally, she had shut her trap. I'm not a morning person and never will be. Years of not living with us made her forget about that. I finished my breakfast before she did and put my bowl on the sink.

 I turned to go to my room again when Fay hopped down from the counter and put her own on the sink. "How have you been?" She asked so quietly and out of character. I felt a small surge of guilt for being so cold to her, until I realized we've been playing the same game. I blinked at her and shrugged. "I've been better," I whispered before I walked past her and climbed the stairs.

"Oh and Fay? You wouldn't mind doing the dishes, would you?" I asked sweetly then ran to my room. She shrieked but I heard the louder than necessary thumps in the kitchen.

***

I used my foot to rock the swing I sat on back and forth. I was lucky to have the swing on my own in a Sunday. The park was swarmed by people playing happy families. It made my chest wince.

The wind blew lightly making a few wavy strands of my hair curtain my face. I pushed them back nonchalantly while I stare at a point in the sky. The last time I've been here in this park was in my dream this morning before Fay woke me up. It was too vivid to forget. I flinched at the memory of every hit of the man to his daughter, me. I wondered if dad was capable of it. He did resemble the monster in my dream after all; old and drunk. I wouldn't put it past anyone.

My head did a little involuntary shake as I pushed the images of the dream back in the recesses of my mind. Unconsciously, my foot dug its heel in the sand, halting my swing.

Another intriguing thought enter my mind. Fay's arrival at home. Her face reminded me of that fateful day when my, our mother left. I hadn't heard from either woman till now. It hurt. It still hurt. I knew Fay's reason to visit wasn't to bug me alone. She could do that even if she's away. She's capable of that. There's the fact that I'm starting school tomorrow. Deep inside Fay's annoying know-it-all tendencies, she's still my older sister. I couldn't help but push her away though. It hurt to see her alone.

Moments passed and it was already past noon. The wind was lighter and the sun too bright. I continued to rock my swing alone when I noticed the families setting up their picnic blankets. It was lunch time but oddly, I wasn't hungry. "Excuse me," a timid voice beside me pulled me out of my thoughts. I was startled but hid it quickly when I saw the little girl. She was barely six , her hair braided around her head. She looked like a little princess.

"Yes?" I asked smiling to the kid. She shifted on her  foot before she looked at me with a shy smile. "Can I use the swing, ate? The other one is not working," she pointed to the other seat and truly it was destroyed. The chain wasn't connected to one side of the seat. I heard footsteps nearing us and I saw a man who had the same face shape as the girl.

He smiled to me and crouched down to the kid. "You shouldn't bother her, darling," his voice was stern yet sweet. The girl looked down, her lip quivered. I feared she might cry. "Bu--"

"No, no," I said, abruptly standing from the swing. "You can use it," I gestured to the swing.

The girl squealed in joy and said 'Thank you.' "Push me papa!" She asked her father.

The man stood up and said, "Sorry for the trouble." I shook my head and smile. "No problem, I'm going anyways." He nodded his thanks then turned to his daughter as I walked away.

"Higher dad! Please!" The girl giggled. A lone tear fell on my cheek. I hope the scene wouldn't morph into one like my dream. She didn't deserve to face the monster. No one did.

I stopped from my steps and looked back. The girl giggle and squealed as the man pushed her swing higher and faster. She looked free up in the air, her hands stretched behind the chains as she went up and down. I cocked my head to the side and wiped the tear away. She looked happy. It was too long since I've been happy. I envy the girl.

"Higher dad!" she squealed once in the air. The man gave a low merry laugh and shook his head. "You might end up getting a wound, darling," he warned but pushed the girl still.

The girl continued to squeal in the air paying no mind to her father's words. She just felt free, Mira knew it. She felt it too once before. The girl dug her heels on the sand and stood from the swing. She rounded up to her dad and tackled him on his waist. "I love you dad,"  she said and the man chuckled and ruffled her hair as much as her braid would allow. "I love you too, sweetheart," he said. She's lucky. Reality was different from the dream.