The Alien and the Cursed Star

"Have some water." Nathaniel offered, handing Sabrina a bottle of water. They were sitting on a long bench in the hospital garden. 

Sabrina took the bottle without even saying anything to him. She unscrewed the cap and took a sip. The cool water did little to soothe the storm brewing inside her.

Nathaniel glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her face was pale under the garden lights, her lips drawn tight, her shoulders hunched forward. It was the posture of someone trying to disappear. He could feel her emotions; grief wrapped in shame.

"What happened?" Nathaniel began to ask. He truly didn't know how it had come to this—how a father ended up with his hands around his daughter's throat. Sabrina really does not want to discuss the events that had just unfolded.

Why would she share that with a stranger? Just because he's a nurse? No way.

It is easier to just say, 'Yeah, family issue'. But that is more than that. 

"Just forget what you saw in there." Sabrina said, her voice is felt of exhaustion. She is really tired today.

Why did she even show up? Why care about his father now? He is not the same father she has before.

But the reality is that Sabrina is still longing to her father. 

Sabrina's eyes were distant, lost in memories. Her father had once been her protector, but now he was her tormentor.

"When I come back, you should have finished reading these books. But for today, start with 'The Killer'". Her mother commanded, placing a stack of books on the table.

"Yes, Mom." the young Sabrina replied dutifully.

She opened the first book and began reading, her small fingers tracing the lines of text. Her mother, a famous writer, had high expectations for her daughter to follow in her footsteps.

"Make sure to finish it." Her mother last words before it goes out of their house.

"Hey there, my dearest daughter!" a familiar voice called out, breaking her concentration. Sabrina looked up to see her father standing at the door, his arms open wide.

"Dad!" she exclaimed, running to him and leaping into his embrace. "I missed you!"

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" he asked, holding her tightly.

"Reading books, Dad. Mom wants me to finish them before she gets back from work."

Her father's smile faded for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a forced smile.

"Do not pressure yourself much Sabrina. Dad is always here, call me when you need me."

He patted her head gently and retreated to his room.

Later, her mother returned, standing with her arms crossed. "Are you done reading the book?"

"Just the last two pages, Mom." She replied to it continuously reading.

"I'll give you five minutes to finish it," her mother said, settling into a chair and watching her intently.

Sabrina read in silence under her mother's scrutinizing gaze. The lady traces her daughter intently, wanted her daughter to be a perfect replica of herself, to follow every command without question. To not be vulnerable, to be brave that no one will beat her.

"Five minutes are up." the mother announced, standing behind her daughter.

For sure, her mother will ask her questions. It is the traditional routine where her mother will verify if she understands the story.

"Do you like how the story ends?"

"Uhm…" Sabrina was into deep thoughts, thinking whether she should be happy with what she read.

"Who are the characters in the story?" Her mother asked again a question.

"A poor and rich family. A maid who works for the rich family. And a writer, like you, Mom."

"How does the story go?" her mother asked again.

"It's tragic, Mom. The rich family faces many challenges. The married couple is unhappy and often fights, and their daughter sees it all."

"Do you approve of what the mother did?"

"Uhm.. No, because she—" Sabrina's explanation was cut off by her mother.

"Don't you see that the mother was just protecting her child? I'm the same way, my dear. I'll protect you from anyone. That's a mother's love."

Her mother's voice was soothing, almost hypnotizing, as she combed through Sabrina's hair with a menacing smile.

"Do you love Mom?"

Sabrina nodded. She loves her mother.

"If you love me, always follow what Mom says. Never be soft. People will only hurt you."

Her father emerged from his room then, his eyes narrowing as he saw the twisted smile on his wife's face.

No one dared to say anything. Nathaniel decided not to ask again. Seeing Sabrina lost in words, lost in thoughts, she is the very opposite of Sabrina in the fan meeting event before. Sabrina still sat on the bench, her bare feet tucked beneath her. She had abandoned her red high heels in his father's room. Those shoes are just reminder of her pain when her father pushed her to the floor.

Her feet ached; a physical reminder of the emotional wounds that had been reopened.

Nathaniel noticed Sabrina's bare feet. He slipped off his own shoes and offered them to her.

"You should wear these." he said gently, trying to offer some comfort.

But Sabrina refused, her eyes hard and unyielding, like telling him, why do you care?

"I do not need help from anyone." Her voice cold and distant.

Nathaniel hesitated, then insisted again, "You need that."

Sabrina's patience snapped.

"I said I do not need any help! Do not get into someone else's life!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the quiet area.

Nathaniel recoiled slightly, surprised by the intensity of her reaction. Before he could say anything more, a shout from the hospital interrupted them.

"Nathaniel!" a fellow nurse called out.

"Patient Lim needs you!"

Nathaniel glanced back at Sabrina. He stood up reluctantly.

"I have to go." He said softly, leaving his shoes beside her as he hurried back into the hospital.

Sabrina watched him go; her expression unreadable. She looked down at the shoes Nathaniel had left behind, then turned her gaze away, staring into the distance.

What a pathetic nurse.

Sabrina's eyes focused back on the present. The memories left her feeling hollow, a shell of the person she once was. She glanced once again at the shoes Nathaniel had left, a symbol of unwanted kindness. She pushed those aside, standing up slowly.

She doesn't need help.

The afternoon air was cool against her bare feet as she walked away, leaving behind the bench, the shoes, and the haunting memories. She had learned long ago not to rely on anyone, not to trust anyone. Her mother had taught her.