I have a sickness on me.

No one — wants to play with me.

I lay on my stomach on my old bed and looked out at the outside world. Day after day, I look through this window at the back alley.

Do you want to know why?

Because it's my way of life, it's my obligation.

People coming and going in the back alleys won't notice me. Even if they do, they will pretend not to see the face of a child with a very bad complexion. The person who reacted more honestly had the expression of witnessing something hoodoo, frowned and quickly left.

And rightfully so, because I'm not a normal person.

Today, my mother came into the room again with a bucket of water, and seemed to notice that my eyes were looking out the window more eagerly than usual, and my mother asked me if I wanted to go out and play.

I nodded slightly, and replied with a voice that was even hoarser than I had imagined, thinking.

"That's right." Mother smiled and nodded.

Slightly curly light brown strands that sway above the collarbone.

My mother was an extremely beautiful woman, the most beautiful woman in the world in my eyes, but I ...... But she's the ugliest girl in the world, right?

The mother moistened the cloth with water from a bucket and wrung it out vigorously. Fold it carefully and reach for the blanket.

"Did you change your bandages?"

I nodded lightly as my mother pulled the blanket up to my knees.

Both feet were bandaged on the calves and thighs, and faint red stains oozed from all over the place.

When the bandage was removed, the disgusting skin was red and cracked and peeled.

My mother began to wipe my feet with very gentle movements.

Even so, it was still painful, but I held back, and I didn't show any pain...... It's not that I'm good at tolerating pain, it's just that I don't want to see my mother sad for me again.

My father abandoned my mother after I was born, and as for the reason, it was because his child was a freak, right?

I know that it was I who caused my mother, so I never complained about anything, and I accepted the cruel reality!

Every inch of my skin was the same as my feet, so from a very young age, my whole body was bandaged.

During the period when I could only survive the silence with my head down, my mother changed the bandages on my whole body with very skillful movements.

Immediately after, my mother began to comb my long flaxen hair with her hands. Be very careful not to hook the bandage around your face.

At such moments, I always froze and did not dare to move.

Wait for the comb to slowly pass from the top of the head through the waist-length strands to the ends.

It's like a puppet pretending to be a family wine.

Whenever the mother moves her arm, a pleasant aroma wafts through the tip of her nose.

Mother always had the scent of roses on her body.

That's because my mother was a florist, and she often sold the roses she planted with her own hands at the market.

This is also all the financial resources of the family.

I love the roses that my mother planted and I prefer the yard where the roses are grown, and that's the only place where I can move freely.

My mother used to change my bandages in the evening, because she mostly came home from her day's work at this time.

Today, my mother brought me a piece of candy.

Although I don't know how many roses my mother has to sell for this candy, this candy is priceless to me, and it contains my mother's love for me.

Time flows smoothly.

Just as I listened to my mother's singing, I wanted to close my eyes in the cozy atmosphere.

Mother whispered, "I'm sorry, I can't let you play outside." ”

My eyes widened.

A slight electric current rushed through the brain. It's like sensing a sign of a crisis, and my body is so tense that I can't move. In the face of such moments, I have to choose. You have to choose the right words. The gears in the brain spin rapidly, deriving the solution. All in a fraction of a second. I tried my best to respond in a cheerful tone.

"It's fine. I like to play at home. ”

After speaking, he looked at his mother's face.

My mother kept a quiet smile and stroked my hair as if nothing had happened.

After checking the smile on my mother's face, I squeezed it into the corner of my mouth with a little dexterity.

I was born with my illness.

However, I was not born in this dark room. I couldn't see the sky from the windows of this room, but I knew the blue sky and the smell of grass. When I was younger, I used to go outdoors.

From the time I was born, the skin on my face and feet had festered.

There also seems to be an abnormality in the joints of the feet, and it hurts even when walking.

The cause is unknown.

Not to mention the treatment.

There is not a decent doctor in the area, and the medical bills cannot be afforded.

All my mother could do for me was to protect my skin with bandages and give me medicine.

No one understands what the future holds. I was just a kid and I always wanted to go outside and play.

My mother also followed my wishes and let me go outside.

Cover the bandages on your feet with a skirt, and you can't hide them on your face. With every movement I made and every time I tugged at my facial muscles, what appeared to be disgusting skin covered with flattened earthworms would peek through the gaps in the bandages.

My peers were disgusted with me. My illness was not contagious, but other parents were afraid of me and did not allow their children to approach me.

There have also been people who have seen me from afar and gathered in groups to whisper. I pretended not to notice them and played my own game. As a child, I cried inwardly. However, it is still much better than staying in a room with a sad atmosphere.

When you get tired of playing by yourself, you go home.

Ignoring the dirt of his clothes and bandages, he rolled on the bed and waited for his mother to return to the house.

One day, my mother came home from work as usual. She asked, "Have fun?" He put his hand lightly over my dirty laundry.

When I looked at my mother's hands.

I don't know why, but a wave of worry wells up. I feel a cold sweat erupt from the pores of my body.

Are mother's hands so rough?

I couldn't ask. Just thinking about this question makes my feet weak. It's all your fault!

I shuddered at the whispers of the unknown.

My mother's hands would get so rough, not necessarily all about taking care of my relationship. But dealing with my daily life must have had some degree of impact on my mother's life.

If I continue like this, one day, I will be abandoned by my mother.

At that moment, I intuitively thought like this.

Only when you have the strength to spare, can you be gentle with others.

The mother did not speak. Even if she didn't speak, her closed lips seemed to me to reproach me and make me cowardly.

I don't want to. I don't want to be abandoned.

The whole body shouted.

I think that's when the red flags staggered into my head.

From the next day, I don't play outside anymore.

Obediently lying in bed, waiting for my mother to come home from work.

Even if you feel itchy, you can't bear to scratch it. I want to save as much as possible the process of caregiving.

My mother was amazed at how much I had changed, but only at the beginning. She soon stopped minding. Instead, I felt that my mother had become gentler than before. It may be just my delusion, but it doesn't matter. At that time, it was more terrifying for me to lose my mother's love than not being able to play outside.