Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

I wish time would rewind.

I despise time. It’s double-edged existence, covered by a mask of sincerity only to betray you at the most dire of times. I fondly call it “Judas Iscariot” for its sneaky methods of getting its way.

I wish time would rewind.

I loathe life. It took my daughter. Of course, losing my wife, mom or dad would have pierced my heart. But losing my daughter, it ripped my soul. She was my purpose for life. She was my joy, love, and passion. When it seemed as if my heart was too burdened to beat anymore, she became my pacemaker, embedded in the seams of my heart to help me live.

When you are a teenager, you wish time would pass.

When you are a father, you wish time would rewind.

At my frail age, I wish I had amnesia. I wish I can forget the torturous memories. Because like scars, memories of your child do not fade. I remember the birth of my daughter. With uncontainable joy, my heart bursted with passion and love for her. There is always something special about the first one. The way she looks at you, her lips curling into a smile, her little hairs on her head floating around, and how she looks so vulnerable, but bursting with life. At that moment, I swore to protect her from all evils, even the malign hand of the devil himself. For that is what a father is supposed to do. My wife mocked me when I said I would forbid anyone to marry my daughter. She did not understand the perils of male lust. She did not understand how astonishingly light men see marriage. She did not understand the insatiable hunger of men.

For she is not a man.

My daughter grew up as any normal child. I made sure she had everything she wanted. People said I was spoiling her. Fools. I said whatever I do to her now, will come back in behemoth amounts of love. However, as she grew older and hit the age of supreme dignity, pride, and a state of “all-knowing”, she started to deny her love for me. My wife said it was a natural process that every ordinary teenager goes through. Naively, I told her our child was extraordinary. I swore that my daughter would not love anyone but me.

Her sweet sixteen party? Yes, with me.

Her first car? Too dangerous.

Her first boyfriend? Nonexistent.

Her love for me? Diminished.

I was shocked. Confused. Dismayed. Aghast. A myriad of emotions swirled through my head. At first, I was in extreme anguish.

And then the fury came.

I denied her existence. My love for her? It turned into untouchable vapor. I became a drunkard, walking down the streets of the neighborhood. Drugs, alcohol, I did everything I could not do when I was a father. I looked at the swing sets we used to play, the community pool we used to swim in. A swig of alcohol. A sniff of powder. Another swig of alcohol and arrive home. See my daughter and shut the door. Wash my face and sleep. I became a soulless corpse, without a purpose to live.

I lost my job, my son shunned me, my wife begged me to return to sanity. I refused.

In my insanity, I could not see my daughter’s tortured heartbreak of her once-loving father turn into a rambling mad man. She did not understand that there was always a Mr. Hyde to a Dr. Jekyll. I could not see her burning desire to once again feel my fatherly love. I could not see her become an adult who knows the burdens of parenthood.

I wish time would rewind.

Dr. Jekyll would have never sold his daughter.

But Mr. Hyde would.

In debt with drugs and in the midst of rainbow LSD, an arrangement for the trade of my daughter for the clearance of my financial debts was made. I wish she would have never agreed to sell herself. I wish she would have been more selfish.

I greedily accepted the behemoth amount of money, a price too light for the trade of my daughter. I laughed at the amount of money, a different laugh compared to the ones in childhood. My daughter cried rivers down her face. I was indifferent.

Ultimately, I did not understand the perils of male lust for wealth. I did not understand marriage. Although I satisfied my insatiable hunger, I was not a father. I should not loathe life, for it was me who lost her. I was not her superhero or daddy. I could not control Mr. Hyde.

I wish time would rewind.