Hua: Memory

She was Hua, but never for a moment had she doubted her name was something else. Vaguely, she remembered being called by another name, her real one most likely. But like the shadows from her youth, whenever she tried to focus on the details, they blended in with the nightmares and monsters that plagued her room.

She didn't know when or exactly how she ended up in that village, but for the short thirteen years that she had called a lifetime, she knew only two things. Other than the fact that her "parents" paid a handsome price for her, the more important was that she was to become the child bride of her "parents'" thirty-year-old brain dead son.

She knew nothing about her past life, the one that should have been hers. If she once had a birthday, it was now lost to time. And if she once had another destiny, she was definitely played by the cruel stroke of fate.

Hua meant flowers, but the only thing she and the dazzling peonies had in common were the crimson red lashes she had on her back and the scars from countless whippings crisscrossing into a meshwork that was reminiscent of the thorny vines.

She secretly hated the name, what's more, she hated knowing that she used to be and could have been somebody else. At night, she had slipped into the village classes and tried to learn a few words to make a new name for herself, but of course, all her endeavors were met by more cruel beatings from her supposed "parents."

Why do flowers bloom? She frequently thought to herself. Why do flowers bloom when they know their destiny is to wilt away?

The night she turned thirteen, the entire world was coated in red. Crimson drapings and scarlet posters signifying good fortune lined the walls. But she knew that this was no birthday celebration. It was her wedding night.

Practically, the entire village was here, waiting to see the comedy skit that would unfold before their very eyes. It was common knowledge that the family was waiting for this moment, and no one wanted to miss this special occasion.

Their pointed fingers. Their silent mockery. Their relentless whispers. They were all daggers that stabbed deep into Hua's heart.

Her husband was wheeled in, his head lifelessly tilted to the side and his back slouched into the wheelchair.

She too was frozen in fear, feeling the daggerlike glares masked behind her "parents'" smiles. She bowed once, twice, and another time. By all customs, she was now a bride, destined to be wed to the shell of a man before her for the rest of her life.

"The groom and bride are now knotted together for the rest of their lives." A voice announced.

Beneath her red veil, a single tear slid down Hua's cheeks.

That night, sensing the body that was set next to hers, all she could do was stare into her supposed husband's empty eyes with fear, wondering if her own were that lifeless.

It was so red, so terribly red. It was like someone had smeared blood everywhere. Even the pair of dragon and phoenix candles set on the bedside were shedding blood tears as the wax dripped down the sides.

Per custom, there was a pair of scissors to cut a strand of hair from each newlywed and to tie it together into a pouch to signify eternal love. Its silvery and cold gleam stood out amidst the sea of blood red.

The next morning, what the "parents" found was a single corpse and a living dead. The dried out blood had seeped into the already red bedsheets, blossoming into a final flourishing of life.