One.

It was 8pm. I was at the petrol station.

A man was approaching.

I had palpitations.

I started to panic.

One step away from him.

I panicked so much that my reflex was to look around me for people, people who might witness what was going to happen, or better, those who might save me.

Stranger kept on moving forward.

I startled this time. Another step behind.

I used all my might to control myself from running like a mad woman.

Stranger: Assalamualaikum.

He saw me very uncomfortable, he should have just left me.

Me: Waalaikumussalam. Kenapa eh?

Stranger: Saya ni berjalan jauh. Tak ada duit nak makan...

Me: Ermm...Tak apelah, eh?
I shook my head.

Stranger: Terima kasih.

He finally turned his back and left.

I quickly sat in my car, my heart skipped so fast, about 200 per minute (I actually counted), it pounded so hard and I just had to cry.

My boyfriend called.
Boyfriend: Kenapa you nangis?
Me: Ada orang minta duit.
Boyfriend: You okay tak?

I cried harder when realizing he was not a bad man who was trying to harm me. He was a traveller, and I denied him a donation.

A donation I usually would have simply gave without much thought.
What have got into me?






Two.

At the airport.

Eating alone.

Purse on the bench, next to me.

Enjoying a meal.

Suddenly there was a waiter next to me.

Too surprised. My heart jumped immediately.

Purse gone missing.

Quickly looked for my purse.

Purse on my lap.

200 beats per minute. I took a deep breathe to calm me down.

Too slow. I needed myself to calm faster.

Hands gave an obvious shake. Uncontrollable tremors.







Three.

Mother once said I have too much gut.



Flashback to the time when I nearly got robbed.

Car window smashed.

Skin wounded.

Head hit.

Assaulted.

And having witnesses around me who were all too shocked/ scared to rescue me.

Mother and Father are so worried about me nowadays.

The repeated, "Tak serik-serik lagi ke?" is becoming sickening to hear.

You know what?

I refuse to be traumatised.

I refuse to be afraid.

Berani kerana benar, kan? Then why should I be afraid? I was not the robbers. The robbers are the ones who should be afraid for their wrong doings!

What the hell is wrong with the world now?

Just because they attack at night, we, the innocents should not go out at night?

No!

No, no, no!

I wouldn't allow it to happen.

I shall stay strong and life would go on, I would carry on like usual.






But guess what? Even with me strongly denying myself from being traumatised, there's a little part of me which was scarred.

Palpitations.
Fast heartbeat.
Shaky limbs.
Cold sweats.

The worst part is, I hate the way it makes me judgemental.

I can no longer stop at a traffic light, without cautiously scanning for any suspicious bikers.
I can no longer open up myself to strangers thinking they are harmless.

I hate myself for constantly thinking those who ride the motorcycles are villains, untrustable citizens.





I am sorry.

Probably they are desperate for money, for their dying parents, caught in the middle of a situation I probably would never understand (because I am probably fortunate enough, will never experience it).

But, to hurt someone, to hurt me, in the desperate attempt to get the instant cash, well, that's what I call, desperate for some drugs, desperate to get high.

Unforgivable.

I am sorry.