I didn't understand why he left without a word or why my father suddenly became so busy that he was always in the hospital, returning home with bloodshot eyes and bruises on his face.
My mother often cried while holding me, and our door was constantly pounded on by unknown people, the knocking relentless for hours.
I hid under the table, clutching my head, too scared to make a sound.
I dreaded that knocking; it felt as if someone were about to break in and kill us.
"Do well on your exams, Annika." That night was the last time my father came home, stroking my head with a loving smile.
I could never have imagined that the next time I would see him would be in a hospital bed. He was covered by a white sheet, his pale face looking cold.
I heard from the hospital staff that it was a medical dispute. My father had accidentally caused the death of a patient on the operating table, and the patient's family pursued him for months, spreading rumors that he was a quack. In the end, just as they wished, he was struck in the head by a ventilator and died.
"In my eyes, Dr. Braun shouldn't have operated the surgery if he didn't have the skill to save lives."
From that day on, my life was shrouded in darkness.
After the SAT exam, I returned home to find my mother lying on the floor, an empty bottle of sleeping pills beside her.
She followed my father to the grave.
I wasn't really surprised. After my father's death, she had lost all hope for life and was seeking an escape. She simply chose to leave after my exams so as not to delay me.
"Annika, remember, your father was a good doctor. He never wronged anyone," she would grasp my arm at night, her eyes vacant, repeating this over and over.
Overnight, I became an orphan. My home was gone, and everyone I loved had died. I had no idea how I endured those three months of summer vacation.
So it was no wonder that on the first day of college when I saw Willie, I rushed over to him with tears in my eyes.
"Willie…" My voice trembled, but just as I uttered his name, he pushed me away.
He straightened his clothes with a hint of disdain, looking at me with such indifference that I almost thought I had mistaken him for someone else.
Had he forgotten me?
"Annika."
He called my name.
I thought he recognized me, and with red-rimmed eyes, I reached out, wanting to share all my grievances and pain.
But I heard him scoff.