Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 133

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BANG BANG
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I recognized the sound immediately that day. The terrible sound which filled Shanghai daily. I recollect hearing the
screams of pain and terror. I recall how desperate I was to find my parents, as the crowd has ran and stamped
everywhere, before finding them seemingly sleeping next to a dead storekeeper. My naive mind kept telling me
that they were just pretending to be dead, waiting for the terror to be over. But the terror was over, so why were
they still pretending. My young child brain couldn’t process it, how fragile life was and how my parents were dead.
I was in a denial, for what seemed like hours. Then I realized they were never coming back. That they were really
dead. The face of their peaceful body triggered it, my tears of grief, at the realization of how screwed up my life
was. I will never forget that scene, the policemen trying to pull me, a grieving, still somehow alive child, away from
his bloodied parents.
The anger at me rose that day. The anger at the gang who fired the bullets at innocent people as a scare tactic for
their rivals. The anger in God for doing this at me. The anger at the establishment for not doing anything with the
criminals who destroyed many people life. It never disappeared when I was a child, instead rising and raging with
every passing hour, the wish to kill those responsible the desire for a painful long death for them, the need for
revenge. My adoptive family, Jiao Hao family, did their best to calm the raging motive inside down. They
promised me they would do their best for revenge and finding justice for those murdered, which totaled to a dozen
that day, with many more scared for life. But their seemingly inaction over my parents death frustrated my raw,
youthful mind. I didn’t understand how hard was it to fight justice against the corrupted government in China. I
only learnt how much they did just before I fled to Hong Kong. The amount of money they spent on my parents’
funeral. How they did their best to fight the monster of the judicial system and lost. I regret how I treated them,
especially as I got older. Their patience amazed me. How did they still keep an ungrateful brat, who never stopped
whining is beyond me. I would have thrown the teenage me out without a hesitation.
Another thing I will regret until I am in my grave was how I started arguing with Jiao Hao. He was always trying
to calmed me, comfort me about my parents’ death, yet I always treated him badly. It got worse and worse as we
grew up, but he never gave up on me. It was only when I told him on my intention on joining the Green Gang,
to avenge my parents. He straight up lost his temper at me. “Have you gone insane? Your parents died in the hands
of this people Xiao Lung, why are you doing this? To avenge them? Your parents won’t be proud of you!” I started
becoming really angry, and possibly disappointed, at the lack of support over my decision. I started saying hurtful
things without meaning it as we stopped talking. Oh, how I will be regret this decision later.
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As I run into the train, people are whispering about me. “An elderly person running?” “What is going on?” “Why
is he running?” Their whispers make me even more determined. Clinging to the handle, I feel my heart racing. I
don’t know why I chose to face it now, after decades of regret. The guilt of his death has plague me, but never this
badly. I should have faced it when I am younger and put all of this behind me. Yet, here I stand, alone, without any
family to cling on to, without any friends to go to anymore. It’s all because I couldn’t face his death. I couldn’t
accept his death, at least not in the same way as my parents. I caused it, and I know it. Therapists have all said it
because of grief, which lasts longer and affects people differently. But this is different. This just cannot be grief. It
has lasted way too long for it to be just that. It has to be something else. Lost in my thoughts, I find myself rushing
up an escalator, pushing people as I desperately try to reach it. My destination. I keep feel something inside me
awakening, a feeling i haven’t felt for a long time. As I rush out of the train station, I see more and more people
staring at me. “Ignore them. Just ignore them. They have no idea what is going on.” my mind was telling me. I
surge for the nearest exit, the exit that will bring me closer to me facing my past. Walking past a playground, I see
some kids playing with toy guns. Guns similar to the one I used that day. The day he died.
No. Please no. A vague memory is becoming clearer, a memory I have long repressed. The memory of his death.
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I am where I was. Many long years ago. I remembered it all.