First They Killed My Father_ A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers - Loung Ung [94]
“Help! Monster! Somebody help me! Monster!” I yell as tears stream down my face and snot drips from my nose to my mouth. Dark, thunderous, powerful hatred rises in me as I scream and call him names. With a surge of anger, I twist and snap my left leg out of his grip. “I hate you!” I yell into his bewildered face as my leg crashes into his chest. His face winces in pain. He gasps for breath and lets go of my other leg. “Die! Die!” Screaming at the top of my lungs, I kick him in the groin with all of my hatred. He doubles over and falls to the ground, hollering like an injured animal. My legs push me up and I run as fast as I can without stopping.
I flee to where I left Chou and Pithy, and see their figures running toward me, axes over their shoulders, faces full of worry and fear.
“Loung! Are you all right? I heard you scream!” Chou questions me shrilly.
I nod shakily.
“We were so scared for you! We thought it was strange when he took you to the woods, away from the base. We kept our eyes on you, then you disappeared!” Chou is crying now. She drops her axe on the ground.
“I’m never going to be that stupid again. I want to report him to the authorities,” I tell her.
“No, let’s get out of here and go to a place where there are lots of people,” Pithy pleads, and drags me away by the arm.
Reluctantly, I allow myself to be dragged away. Pithy helps Chou wrap the rope three times around the pile of wood. Then they sit facing each other with the pile in the middle. Both put their feet on the wood and push, each pulling one end of the rope. When the rope is taut, Chou ties it in a double knot. She lays the axe in with the pile of wood and strings her scarf through the rope to make a handle. Once she finishes, she helps Pithy with the other two piles. Grabbing the scarves, we pick up the wood, now the size of our bodies, and carry it horizontally on our backs. When we get close to the base I look closely at all the soldiers, hoping to catch the monster. I want to report him, but I do not know who to report him to. With their funny round hats and uniforms, most of the soldiers look the same to me. I am not sure which one to tell my story to. I thought they were here to save us from the abuses of Pol Pot and not to hurt us. “Come on, we have to go,” Pithy again pleads after a few minutes.
Then from the corner of my eye, far in the distance, I think I see him. My mind swirls with rage of revenge. My heart jumps to my throat, and I take off after him. “Monster!” I yell, running. Chou and Pithy call for me to stop and return, but I ignore them. I am so full of hate I pay no attention to where I am going. Suddenly, something crunches under my foot and pain shoots through the sole. I break into a sweat but do not stop. I focus on him and leap on my toes in his direction. My foot throbs painfully as blood leaves a trail over the ground. Briefly, I look to see a piece of broken glass sticking out of my foot. I look down and yank the glass out, causing more blood to spurt. When I look up again, he is gone.
“He’s gone!” I scream when Chou and Pithy catch up to me. The pain is so great now that I have to sit down. Saying nothing, Chou takes her scarf and wraps it around my foot to stop the bleeding.
“Come, we have to go,” she says sympathetically.
“He’s gone—”
“Leave him behind. We have to go.”
I stand up and limp around for a few more minutes looking for the Youn, but he is nowhere to be seen.
They walk ahead of me as I hobble slowly behind them. Along the way