Sailor
Jupiter Moves Out!
I feel like a needle
removed from my heart. I am in my room, tyingmy long black hair into a high
ponytail while hoping to look like the girl in green in the anime Sailor Moon. Then,
I scan a list of things saved in my brain while folding some clothes. Suddenly,
I spot an old green shirt. Slowly, I run my black-polished nails on the soft
fabric and a flashback immediately appears in my head like
a computer being switched on.
I was a twelve-year-old
finalist at a national karate competition, and I was afraid that I might lose.
My mother saw me practicing at our backyard the day before the competition, and
she decided to take me to the nearest mall for a breather.
“Does Sailor Jupiter go
shopping when she feels stressed?” she asked.
“I’m not sure…she likes
girly things though. She feels excited when she sees a cute dress but she
doesn’t have that much money to buy it.” I replied.
“Well, I believe Sailor
Jupiter needs a little more than just looking at cute dresses.” she chuckled.
We passed by a department
store and my eyes caught a mannequin wearing a green T-shirt with “Stay Strong”
written on it. It was a perfect combination of tomboy-ness and girly-ness! I
believe that green is a tomboy colour and sequins are a symbol of feminism. Mom
seemed to read my mind instantly, because the next thing I knew, she walked to
the shelf, chose one of the shirts with my size (medium), and walked to the
counter to pay for it! Isn’t she the greatest mother in the whole world or
what? I got a little teary when she presented the shirt to me. “I believe that
you will kick butt tomorrow!” she said with her dark brown eyes twinkled with
faith.And she was right. I felt Sailor Jupiter’s lightning power electrifying
my adrenaline as I wrestled to glory.
Mom, if you can hear
me, I want to spread my own wings and to build my nest in a whole new world. Not
only I want to start a new chapter of my personal memoir, but also to start a
journey that will remind me of you. Everything’s okay now. Don’t worry.
I realize that time is
running out so I quickly fold the shirt up. After I put the clothes in my luggage,
I seean orange feather lying on the floor. It must have stuck on one of my
shoes in a cockfight matchtwo weeks ago. As I pick it up, I can smell a faint
stench of chicken blood. It is a good thing the cockfight matches my stepfather
hosted is banned for good. The eventstill haunts me like a horror movie, but
when I move to Canada, I’ll have the guts to replay it.
Another flashback
appears that begins with him saying, “A chicken is clueless enough to know when
it will die.” I believe he referred this to my mother whom he had murdered the
day after the match. My temper meter reached to its peak. I wished I could cry
but I was fuming. I snapped back at him, “You’re wrong! My mom’s not the
chicken! You are! You want all of the money to yourself and not us!” “Well, you
can’t do anything to stop me,” he said, because you’re a chicken too!” He then
pulled out a gun from his jeans pocket. He was about to shoot when I suddenly
dodged away and grabbed hold of his hand. With a quick move illustrated
automatically in my head, I kicked him in the stomach and punched his face with
my fist. I then snatched the gun and pointed at him, “I bet you don’t know that
I have a black belt in karate, asshole! And by the way, you’re no longer
needed!”
Suddenly, my iPhone 5
rings its notification sound that startles me. The flashback stops like a
freeze spell. Every part of my body feels like being surrounded by Sailor
Jupiter’s “Flower Hurricane” attack, excitedly celebrating with my soul for
escaping this place I once call home. The memories of my past may wake me up
like a nightmare, but I vow to God that I will replace them with new ones,
starting now. Before I get into my friend Solange’sLandcruiser, I throw the
feather into the garbage can and watch it sink gracefully down, erasing away a
piece of my stepfather.9
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