1 Prologue: If We Could Just Forget Memories

"You can't leave me, no! Not like this, Haruhiko!" The bellows of my mother wakes me. I wasn't startled though. It wasn't anything new in this household. In my seven years of existence, there was hardly any night they did not fight. However, even if they always fight about the same things—his drinking, her cooking, something said at some event, etc. I almost always find myself creeping on to the top of the staircase to eavesdrop on the conversation, if the shouting at all still counts as that.

"Please remember, we have a child and she is sleeping upstairs!" My mother wails as she kneels and holds on to my father's waist.

My father only looked at her with disdain. "You disgust me, Margaret. You and that child, both." He spat the words like he could eject my mother and me from his system just like that. Grabbing her by the hair, he pulled her off him but not before leaning close and whispering something to her ears even my own couldn't hear. I saw the light leave the eyes of my mother. And just like that, my father exited our home, never to return again. I don't normally meddle with these fights. I've learned early on that getting in the middle of something like this will only lead to a spanking or some grounding. However, this fight didn't seem like all the other fights. I can feel the finality in my bones, like a conclusion to a long dramatic TV show.

Now, the house screams with the silence my father left us with. And I somehow found the courage to spring up from my crouching spot by the stairs and run to my mother who still sat on the floor with quiet tears streaming down her beautiful face.

"Mama", I cried as I embraced her in my arms. I don't know why I'm weeping though. I've always wanted the fighting to ultimately cease but something about all this just seems sad.

She continued weeping onto my little shoulders, her tears seeping into the thin fabric of my pajamas. We must have sat like that for hours because it wasn't until the sounds of the early birds' chirping echoed outside that my mother finally calmed down. She lifted her head from my shoulder and I looked at her, wondering what she's going to do now.

Her face was serene for a moment, fragile but serene. As she cupped my face gently, I tried to smile, to let her know I am okay. That we will be okay. I must have made an ugly look because in a flash, her face morphed into anger and disdain. She pushed me away like I burned her. And then she started screaming as she ran towards me and saddled my small frame. I didn't understand what was going on.

I couldn't fathom why my loving mother's hands were around my throat, squeezing so hard I was afraid she would break my neck. In hindsight, maybe that was her intention. The bruises her hands left would undeniably say so. My broken lip, bruised cheeks and uprooted hair would definitely say so. I couldn't breathe or say anything. I can't remember if I even tried to fight her off. I think I might have just lain there, confused and scared, for her, and of her. There was a deranged look in her eyes, the kind not even the scary movies I watched could justify. She was feral in her anger and I was prey.

Was she mad at me? Was that anger really directed at me? Or was I just the unlucky thing that was nearby when her emotions finally broke? Had she always hated me like this? Did she blame me for my father leaving? Why? Why? Why? That was the one word that echoed through my mind as I felt the last of my strength and breath leave me.

Why would my mother do this to me?

Why did father have to leave?

Why do I deserve this pain?

Why me?

And then my mother spoke the one sentence that answered all of my questions. That was when I regretted all the whys I ever asked. Because the answer was more than I could bare. I think that was the moment I allowed myself to go. I closed my eyes and succumbed to the pain.

My name is Hanabi Abe and this is how I die.

What a grim thought, I thought even as the words echoed in my mind.

My name is Hanabi Abe and this is how I die.

And yet, the ringing of the words somehow soothed me, like a mantra for peace.

My name is Hanabi Abe and this is how I die.

Perhaps, it was better this way. Who wanted to wake up to a life without a father and a mother who despises you anyway?

My name is Hanabi Abe and this is how I die.

Ahh, peace, I thought as the pain finally felt more and more distant and my head started feeling lighter and lighter. I was glad my eyes stayed close, even as my mother's long fingernails started to dig into my shoulders, even as I felt my blood mingle with her tears on the fabric of my favorite pajamas.

My name is Hanabi Abe and this is how I die.

Her one hand chokehold stayed strong and firm while the other dug on to my skin.

I felt warm tears prickle at my eyelids. I wasn't crying because of the physical pain, no.

I was crying because I have never felt more betrayed.

The one person who should have loved me and protected me at all costs, is apparently, the one person who wanted me gone the most.

My name is Hanabi Abe and this is how I die.

My name is Hanabi Abe and this is how I die.

I tried to repeat my mantra more and more in the hopes that I could drown out the endless loop of the words that came out of her mouth. I wasn't successful at that though.

It was apparently a night of failure for the Abe family.

My father failed to keep his wedding vows.

My mother failed to keep my father here.

And I failed to to keep my mantra true.

My name is Hanabi Abe and that was not the night I died.