w r i t t e n b y D a r r e n Y i p
Courtesy of Whitney Ng
There are three kinds of sinners: Those who kill, those who steal, and
those who don’t obey their parents. Papa always said that all sinners go to
hell. But he also said that God can forgive those who kill or steal if they
pray for forgiveness. It’s only people who don’t listen to their parents who
are never forgiven, and people like that go to a special place in hell because
it is such a big sin.
I
believed him. It wasn’t hard; Mama died soon after giving birth to me when she
tried to steal me and run away from home. Papa said she died because she didn’t
listen to him, so that’s why God decided to punish her. God could have forgiven her for
stealing me from him, he said. But Mama will still go to hell because she
didn’t listen to him when he told her not to run away with me.
I
was confused, so I asked why Mama was punished even though Papa wasn’t her parent. Papa then took down the big Bible
from the wooden bookshelf and opened it. He pointed out a verse in it and read
it out to me, but I didn’t understand it. Papa laughed very loud, and then he
explained that the Bible said wives are like children, and that they must
always obey their husbands. If they don’t, God will punish them, just like He
will punish little children when they disobey their parents.
I
nodded slowly, and then said to Papa that I was sleepy and that I wanted to go
to sleep now. But Papa said no. He said that he wants me to play a game with
him in his bedroom.
“But
Papa, I’m sleepy,” I complained.
“I
know, sweetheart. But it’s just a short while. Papa promises.”
“Can’t
we do it tomorrow, Papa?”
“No,
Kailey. Now do as I say and go to my room.”
“But
I don’t want to.”
“Now,
Kailey! Do you want to go to hell? Or have you already forgotten the time when
I showed you how painful it is like to burn forever in hell?” Papa took a few
steps towards me, his huge form towering over me.
I
flinched, and almost automatically, my right hand reached over to grip my left
arm, where there was large pink patch on the bottom side of it. Papa had said
that he wanted to show me how it is like in hell, so that next time I would
remember not to make God angry by doing “sin”. He had taken me to the kitchen,
and sat me on the counter beside the stove. He then lighted up the stove. With
a firm grip, he took my left hand and guided my arm right over the open flame.
I
cried out; I couldn’t help it. The fire was so hot that it no longer felt like
heat. All I felt was pain. It was so different from the gentle warmth that I
was used to when I warmed my hands at the stove during the winter. Tears poured
down my cheeks as I watched my skin turn from pink to red, to a darker shade of
red. I tried to yank my arm back, but Papa’s hands were like rocks.
“Papa!
Let go of me!”
“Do
you understand what it feels like to burn in hell now, Kailey?”
“Please,
Papa!”
“Answer
me, Kailey.”
“Yes!
I understand! Let me go!” I screamed.
Papa
let go of my hand, and I immediately pulled it back towards myself, only to cry
out in pain again when my left arm touched the fabric of my dress. My skin was
an angry dark red, and oh God, it hurt. The very air itself seemed to be
burning that part of my arm, and it felt like a dozen knives cutting into my
skin when I brushed it against my dress. I used my right hand to scrub my face
– my entire face was wet with tears and sweat – and hurriedly jumped off the
kitchen counter and ran out of the kitchen to hide under the table. I sat there
sobbing, while trying unsuccessfully to avoid touching anything with my left
arm.
I
heard Papa come near before I saw him. A moment later, his head appeared as he
got down on one knee and faced me. He had a thick dark beard and moustache that
made it hard to see when he was smiling most of the time. But this time, I
would have seen it from a mile away. I didn’t like his smile. I tried to
scramble away to the other side of the table, but Papa grabbed my legs as I did
and dragged me bodily back towards him. My left arm scraped against the cheap
carpet, and I screamed in pain as Papa grabbed my shoulders and made me face
him.
“Kailey,
Kailey, Kailey…” he gently murmured as he rubbed a rough thumb over my wet
cheek. I felt his fingernail scratch against my skin.
“Now
do you understand why Papa always makes you listen to me? God doesn’t like
children to disobey their papa’s, and God will send these children to burn in
hell forever. Papa loves you, and Papa doesn’t want you to burn like these bad
children. This is just to help you remember so next time you won’t make God
angry.” His voice ended in a whisper.
These
memories flashed through my head as I looked back up at Papa standing over me.
I knew that look on his face. It meant that he was going to get angry soon if I
didn’t listen to him.
I
knew the game that he wanted to play, but I never liked that game. I always
felt a bit of pain between my legs in the mornings, and sometimes Papa gets a
bit rough when he plays and accidentally hurts me. Sometimes I get bruises and
scratches too.
But
that look on his face meant I didn’t have a choice. So I slowly moved my feet
up the stairs and pushed his door open with a finger. It creaked open. I felt
the wall gingerly with my hand for the light switch and turned it on before
stepping inside. The bed stood in the middle of the room, and the wall was
covered with shoddy wallpaper that had more rips in it than I could count.
There was a strong smell in the room; the same smell that is in the fridge when
Papa leaves an open bottle of beer in it. I made my way across the room and sat
down on the chair in front of a desk that was littered with cigarette butts.
A
minute later, Papa stepped into the room. I felt my body shiver, but it wasn’t
because of the cold. His eyes looked towards me immediately as he carelessly
flung a hand to flick the lights off. The room went dark.
“Let’s
play, Kailey.”
I
was seven then.
***
