Sitting in this old, rusty, forgotten bench next to a dented garbage can, I feel nothing amidst the coldness of the night. Even from the other side of the bench I could hear the silent sob of the little girl's heart. In her dirty white dress and her silky black hair, she was crying. I was always a lover of darkness. And this small, yet quiet children's park opens itself as my only refuge. I feel “lost” whenever there is a crowd of people – I'm invisible and hollow, even from myself. That's why I only come here when the moon fully blooms, when everyone else is gone, when I can only feel my own presence. I guess you could call it my home, for this is the only place where I could feel that in the numbing coldness of the night, I'm warm… I'm alive. But I guess, I won't have it all for myself tonight. My lonely sojourn was disturbed by an uncanny child. She was sitting there, head bent down, making small yet heavy sobs. She was wearing a white dress with splatters of mud all over. Her thick hair covered her face. From the looks of it, she could be five or six. This is the first time someone was here other than me during this time of the night, let alone a child. Suddenly, she started to murmur. “Mama…Mama...” I realized I should do something. She was only a child, after all. “A-a-are you lost?” I hesitantly asked. There was no response from her. I slowly moved myself over to get closer. “Little girl, you have been crying for a long time now. And I just –” as I made contact to her skin, she suddenly removed her hands from her face and wrapped it her against her body. It looked like she felt a sudden jolt of winter. I was startled, of course. But I decided to ask her still. “Is something wro—” She then looked at me with her blood-shot eyes glaring directly into mine. I couldn't move an inch. It's as if her vision passes through me— like she sees my soul but goes even beyond it. I couldn't move an inch. Her face made an expression of confusion, fear, and panic all at once. She then let out a tantrum that sent chills to my spine. I covered my ears to not hear the disturbing screech. She continued to shriek for a few minutes before finally halting. I thought I startled her. In an attempt to ease her tension, I got up and caught myself a firefly flying alone near a dying bush. I trapped it between my palms and walked back. I then released it and let it fly near her. I saw how she smiled a little bit as she caught a glimpse of the small blinking light. But it quickly turned into a dismal frown as the firefly shortly fell to its death in the untrimmed grass. I accidentally killed it with my own hands. I panicked when my plan failed miserably. So to distract her attention, I had the idea to ask her questions people normally ask a child in an effort that she'll perhaps speak. “What's your name?” She then put her hands on her heart, and her head violently shook from one direction to another as if she was looking for something. Her breathing became shorter and shorter. She started to cry more intensely. Suddenly, I heard a loud voice shouting from the distance. “Invidia! Invidia!” said a woman running fanatically towards us. With tears in her eyes, she grabbed the child and hugged her tightly in her shoulders. “I have been looking everywhere for you. Are you safe? Are you alright?” she shouted with great relief. “Mama, I'm scared.” said the child as her tears soaked her mother's shoulder wet. “Hush, hush now. Mama is here. It's okay, it's okay. I promise I will never leave you again.” whispered the mother while she caressed her child. “Someone is here with me.” “Honey, who is here with you? Is he the one who kept you safe?” “I think he's sitting in the bench right now.” I saw how her mother's eyes enlarge with ridiculous fear. She hastily grabbed her daughter, carried her, and ran. I could only see from afar the horrified face of the child as she refused to look my way. Seeing how their silhouette gradually became smaller, my hands agonizingly crippled my clothes as I put them above my heart. “I will never leave you again.” Those words felt like a thousand hands tearing my soul apart. As a gust of wind blew against the small park, I then saw myself dragged up away from the ground and over the world stolen from me, all with eyes full of hatred. I have almost forgotten that this night is a special night – it's already fifteen years since my mother forcibly took me out of her womb, covered me in newspaper, and left me to rot in the dented garbage can next to that old, rusty, forgotten bench. I already died even before being alive. A harrowing shout was then made as I return into the nothingness which I belong.