I hobbled toward the dining table for a long time. Though only 3 m distance from my room. Slowly but I think this is my fastest movement to grab a glass. Go on and on until I get it but why are these fingers irregular? Why is it so hard to hold it?
Preach ... My glass nudges the bottle, the bottle spills on a basket of rice and shifts a bowl of soup next to it.
Pyaaar ... The bowl was spilled onto the floor, I was startled with horror.
"Ouch! Tati what you do son, mother is tired of angry with you please do not make the act Ti. Your father is just coming home again this is just a side dish that can be prepared mother, instead you spill! You naughty boy! Come on in your room again! "Mother pulled my hand and dragged me to my room. This happens many times, ten times a day and more, I try to talk but my short tongue can not help me. To explain a word alone can not be well spoken, I'm hard to talk.
"I hu i hu a wus." I tried to speak but it was useless mother had stormed away with anger.
I am thirsty, thirsty. I did not mean to spill the soup. I just want to take my own drink like other friends. In fact, I want to help mom cook. I feel sorry for Mom. Previously, mom had never been rude to me she was so fond of me. But, the last two years of mother's treatment began to rough on me. I understand, maybe the mother is tired of my act as she said. Now I'm getting more and more alone, usually the only one who understands me. Often times I see mom crying at prayer time, when cooking, while sitting alone. His body was getting thinner, he was disappointed and began to despair. All medications have been tried but my condition is normal, the result is nil.
two years ago, in which the many held race and there here. the most often I met is race where tens of cardboard and keresek great. in fact, a Rooster wrapped with woven thatch, depending circular resembles umbrella above tall trees upright and straight. that covered fluid black resembles paint but very smooth. so, the guy adults multilevel up the shoulders of his many times fall into the mud. seven dozen people call it and I know this month is August. months where Indonesian community celebrate independence. although I Bears the predicate girl mental retardation or the usual small children says, an idiot. but I have life of 14 i've understand what people are doing. difference, I slow and often Act unknowingly. nerves in my body is not work properly. even if I am autism, dislexia or whatever terms usual pronounced doctor on the mother of illness. but I still have a heart. my brain is messed up but feel is still a normal, I still feel hungry and sad. I still feel the pain when children small so jijiknya me, so they heart melempariku with gravel, mencubiti hand with nails sweet in his hand. my condition this makes me abused without cause. and in August of it, I have to embarrass my family. in fact, the problem is the same I could not convey I mean well. when the kids are vying eat crackers I want to join. just that they think I will make trouble. "Woy ..., why the Tati bandwagon here?" "Yes this! styles wrote, want to join the race it?" "what ... !? participate in the race? ha ..., which there is messed up children rubbish! idiot! home Aja there!" they kept taunt, insults up gravel-gravel small plied myself. Fortunately, as usual mother come helped me. scold bad boys it then held me Oh ... mom, mom Pahlawanku. not give up with the gravel-gravel earlier, back I approached crackers-crackers dependent. I tried bite but could not, spontaneous my routine like people who are rage. I think very excited. I pull all crackers-crackers it up to fall scattered to the ground. "Hey Tati do not destroyed the create the race." "Oh lest Tati ngamuk NIH quick call his mother." "mom ... mother asih Tati ngamuk mom." shouted Pak RWS. I could not resist. although other people call me a rampage, I don't care about the important thing i'm glad not play. before mother come, i've been running. actually slowly can be said to be not run, but no bold arrest because my routine that irregular this. suddenly earrings in ear my right off and rolling the River. I intend to pick it up, spontaneous children high school is race paddle hiseris. "Woy ... Tati why the River bored life Yes !?" "Hey ... prevent it Hey later sink" "it does not an idiot but crazy!" "Tati ..., Tati ..." cried the people who panic with my actions. Pak RWS pellmell Mancari mother or father, participants race paddle landed and screaming without the Act, the audience and committee stare don't know what to do. while I, I was in a depth of breast-high. I blaring-roar, satisfied once. new first time I can play free in the water. conditions remain as the original they think rage. in fact, I am being expression maximum, where delinquency my childhood not channeled. i'm satisfied !. endless for granted. as mother, father and my brothers come up with furious they dragged to the home. "basic children can not be loved. usually just create a tantrum! finally mother tired of it!" griped mother. "shame-maluin it! pingin dead you Yes!" snapped father she beat my ass with sebilah twigs guava trees. this is the first time I saw mother semarah that, rough it. mother had started ashamed my situation. since that is, I don't allowed a breath of free air although only in the home page. I bound and imprisoned in my own room. atmosphere of houses not as beautiful as the first. I like the bearer damn in my House itself. jewelry and property mother little by little out just to mengobatiku. if the first, the doctor soul, psychiatrist and treatment theraphy that so langgananku. now, witch and the physician became guest monthly my House. I was bored with treatments. if they know, I just want to understand, loved and recognized bahasaku that's it. now bebanku more weight, not only with the girl mental retardation. but also the girl who possessed watcher tree back home. tragic my situation now. I am getting their own. how do I will be cured, approached was never. how do I want to silent, who know if I was screaming for fear of the cockroaches, shortness because stuffy after a long time in prison this dirty. who still mercy to me, which still care to see my situation. i've helpless, hair messy. smiles but this heart teriris.tubuhku fat now mongering and filthy. I struggle, I throw goods in the room, up to a when I get a chance to infiltrate blurred, it was because my room want cleaned. for months untouched light at all. when dad off guard I belari I want to bernosatalgia with nature. back tragedy 2 years ago repeated, I considered raging again. I shocking throughout the village. but this time I raging real. I struggle sejadi-happens, I tendangi cages chicken owned father to chicken run riding-skelter, I push clothesline dress up clothes still wet dirty because fall into the ground. I screaming until they think I trance again. shaman has been called, the mother take irus that he said to repel the spirits of the pervasive to my body. they like people who have no heart only. when the condition starts improved, it's time I accept the rewards of ulahku, feet and hand tied. night Pak RWS come to the home. "assalamu'laikum" "wa'alaikumsalam, eh Pak RWS tumben what ya ..., please sitting pack." "thank you Sir, so you know mean my arrival kasini is to try to give a solution of the Tati." "Oh Pak want diobatin where again? Mr. right to know for many years of our business cure Tati failed to continue." Mr. RWS dad and talk at length, I have not heard what they are talking about. whether can whisper of the executioner where Mr. RWS came to home just to negotiate idea at all inhumane. he suggested to make the Hut small next to the House to mengurungku. Pak RWS think I have to exile, even if you need to shackled. because i've unsettling citizens. and whether on the basis of what my family agree for granted.
One day my new prison is ready to be my dwelling. 1.5 m high hut with an area of 2 x 1 m. Grounded tarpaulins and wooden walls are not tightly arranged. So the night wind can freely cool me down. As well as the former zinc roof used to bandage this crazy girl. I'm crazy, I'm an idiot, what's my insanity? This little hut more akin to a goat's cage witnessed my wailing. Does anyone know this crazy girl felt cold in the middle of the night, hungry for irregular quota, afraid when it rains with lightning bolts. Afraid of the goose that often craned my neck on my shoulders and the foul smell from the comberan next to my hut. My family, my protector turned into a merciless soldier in prison.
I could no longer distinguish between the morning prayer and the dawn prayer, not knowing how many days and nights it was rotating, not knowing when August came, remembering the back of my downturn, the idiot girl in this misery hut.