Chapter 7

If I could
I would turn back
If I could
I would run away
Every story has its end
But yours never had


The minute I got the brown envelop, my whole body started to shake like I was about to jump off a steep cliff. I recognized Yang Dong-Yu’s neat handwriting on the envelope although the ink had faded to almost a blur. The old lady smiled at me and said I could stay a little longer at her house if I wanted. But I just thanked her and walked out briskly.

I came to the front yard of our old house, sitting on the bamboo bench made by grandpa decades ago. Gingerly I ripped off the top of the envelope and pulled out six pages of paper. The letter was written in calligraphy. I was always amazed by how beautiful Yang Dong-Yu’s calligraphy was when we were in elementary school. He won so many prizes in competitions. I took a deep breath before I started reading.

“Huang Chih-Hao, I’m sorry I never replied your letters and cards; and I am sure by the time you received this envelope time had passed by at least three or four years…” I continued to read and many of my questions began to be answered. After I moved to Taipei, Yang Dong-Yu attended the local junior high and also was forced by his father to work at the breakfast shop. He had to get up at 4 o’clock and get ready for work and school. He said he was very pleased to receive my letters and hand-made cards. The reason he didn’t reply to me was that his heart ached so much and every time he penned down something he tore it apart afterwards. Then he went on his story as:

“Do you recall the time I tried to run away and hid at the tree hut we built in the woods? That was the very first time I attempted to escape because life was so hard to deal with. I’m going to tell you my deepest and saddest secret. I am a bastard, a pathetic and never-should-be-born weirdo. My real mother was actually my father’s sister. I didn’t know that until I was six. Because my grandmother only had two children, she spoiled them very much. My dad fell in love with his sister when he was in high school. One night he sneaked into his sister’s room and raped her. My grandmother found out but didn’t do anything. Of course my mother was devastated and wanted to die. But my grandma threatened her with the whole family honour thing and her own life too. Certainly that was a scandalous and ugly domestic affair no one would want to divulge. So the secret was kept for many years. Then one day my father’s sister got pregnant and that’s how I came to this earth. Not long after I was born, my mother died of haemophilia. Can you imagine that? My father was married at the time and Hui-Ching was already two years old. That’s why Hui-Ching’s mother left my father. My grandma really liked me a lot because she said she could see her daughter’s eyes in mine. I had a fond memory in Ping-Tung until we moved to Taitung. The night you and teacher escorted me home was the beginning of my worst nightmare. As you know my father was alcoholic and his temper was horrible, I was constantly under his curse. Every night he would hit me with the rattan stick and called my names, saying how humiliating I was to him. Then he lost his control and took me to his room and forced me to touch his private part and even demanded me to give him an oral job. I was scared and didn’t want to upset him, so I obeyed what he said. Gees, what did I know? I was only 10 years old. The worst was yet to come. In the following years, he basically abused me every night. Sometimes it hurt so much that I couldn’t even walk and my behind was in pain all the time…” My tears just rolled down uncontrollably. I had no idea that was my good friend’s life. I couldn’t say I understood what he had been through. Only those who have been abused could really understand the pain, I guessed.

Yang Dong-Yu went on telling the miserable days he had. Eventually he escaped the hell when his grandma came to Taitung for a visit one year during Chinese New Year holidays. “I guess I would never be the same child, right? Many a time, I wanted to take my own life but I thought of my real mother’s death and Hui-Ching and Hui-Ming and my dear grandma. At times I hated my grandma for her incapability to prevent such a tragedy from happening in the Yang family. But I didn’t choose to come to this world this way. You know I love reading. I knew I could ask for help but I was afraid to be the one who stigmatize the entire family. Life is too short; and I don’t want to end like this…”

In the end, he told me how much he loved my cards and the English poems I wrote. I found an address enclosed in the letter. I held back my tears and gave a last look at our childhood street, playground right next to the Catholic monastery, and tugged the envelope in my jacket. I was determined to find Yang Dong-Yu’s whereabouts as soon as I returned to Taipei.