"In death, we are all equal."

  The Book of Life

  The day had started so well. After receiving another blood transfusion Sothiya regained strength and became less a shadow of his former self. They borrowed a car and went down to the coast, and Malen got to swim in the ocean for the first time in her life. As she got older, her unusual features – the pale green eyes, her light skin, the high cheekbones and the odd golden red highlights in her hair – had become even more apparent. Dara knew people talked, specuting if Malen wasn't Sothiyas. That Dara had conceived her with another man, behind Sothiyas' back. She didn't care. They could question her morales all they wanted, as long as they refrained from gossiping about Malen.

  As their day at the beach progressed, Sothiya started getting tired and pale. The transfusion had been the st one for him, they couldn't afford another. They couldn't afford the medicines either. This day at the beach was a bad economical decision, they needed every riel Dara could bring in, but this day had been about something else. It had been about Sothiya, about making as many memories with him for Malen as they could. Time was running out. The care they'd gotten him never provided any long-term effects, anyway. Dara felt the all too familiar frustration making her skin tingle as she drove them home. Frustration, because none of the doctors' they'd seen had been able to expin what was happening to Sothiya, or why. Frustration, and resentment, towards the entire country, because if the Khmer Rouge hadn't forced power and with that left her once at least comparatively well-off family in ruins, she'd still have the money she needed to take her husband to better hospitals, in Thaind perhaps. And even if she refused to admit it, she felt frustration towards her own daughter as well. It was that disturbing suspicion, the one never quite wanting to go away. The feeling of the girl's very existence could be the reason for Sothiya's poor health. Sothiya's shallow breathing next to her in the car brought Dara back to the here and now. She gnced at him, worry like a veil over her face.

  "We drive straight to the hospital. Borai won't need his car back for many hours." From the corner of her eye Dara could see Sothiya looking at her. He sighed.

  "Drive us home, Dara. It's just as well, they won't be able to help me anyway. I'll feel better once I've rested a bit, and home is the best pce for that."

  "This is ridiculous."

  "I don't have the energy to discuss it again. Please Dara, it's not her fault."

  Dara felt her anger mix with shame. Maybe she refused to admit it, but it didn't mean Sothiya didn't understand her thoughts. She had brought it up once, with Sothiya. After that morning when she fainted in the garden. Sothiya was furious. His strong reaction shocked Dara and they hardly spoke to one another for days after it. Dara kept her thoughts about Malen to herself after that. She suspected Sothiya thinking the same, that somehow Malen was affecting his health, and what he'd just said confirmed it. Not her fault. Nothing she could control. Something she did in fact do but could not be held responsible for. Dara agreed, Malen was hardly trying to kill her own father on purpose. If she had the ability, she'd stop. But it likely wasn't something she was even aware of doing – her being alive somehow drained life from Sothiya. Dara often wondered why she herself wasn't affected in the same way. Why Sothiya and not her? But she'd been healthy and strong, she'd never even been sick once since giving birth to the child. Not even one day in three years. Not as much as a common cold or a sniffle.

  Dara and Sothyia were maybe avoiding talking about the reasons for Sothiya's illness, but they spoke all the more about other things. Like about the light in their daughter. It came and went irradicably but more frequent now, and it had already happened in front of people outside of the family. It was becoming more and more difficult to stay incognito. To Dara it felt like standing helplessly by, while watching the dream of a life with the people she loved slowly crumble and fall apart. After all that had happened during the dark years all Dara wanted was a simple, safe and silent life. Dara mourned the life she would never get to have.

  The rumours in themselves were one thing. Sure enough, the talk of her having another man's child had been enough for them to not be welcome in two of the temples. People saw her and Sothiya as liars and cheaters. Mostly her, to be honest.

  As the gossip about Malen started spreading it created another unwelcome consequence. At two separate occasions, strangers had appeared at their doorstep, seeking Malen's blessing. The talk of her being a saviour of some kind just wouldn't die down. Neither would that of her being cursed. Dara had chased the visitors off their property before Malen noticed, but they knew sooner or ter someone would approach her. They couldn't be by her side at all times for the rest of her life.

  There was also that worrying feeling of being watched. It had started a few months ago, with Dara noticing a man she didn't know turn up wherever she went with Malen. If they went to the market, there he was, by the rice sellers. When she went to the temple, he was there, making sacrifices. When going for a walk, or getting to work – he was always there somehow. The paranoia felt like madness. But Dara wasn't crazy. She had no evidence but she knew anyway. She had suspicions regarding who. And why.

  A few days after Sothiya's first transfusion, a man from Singapore contacted him by calling his employer to ask Sothiya to meet up with him for a transaction. The call had gotten Sothiya in a bit of trouble with his boss, as private calls weren't something allowed. Sothiya had been repced from working in production to now work in the factory cafeteria, serving soup. It was a job that paid less but meant less work hours, he could do some of the work sitting down, and the environment in the cafeteria didn't exhaust him as much as the one in the factory halls. His boss was a tolerant man who cared for Sothiya and did what he could to help – but that call had apparently been streching it too far.

  The man who contacted Sothiya cimed to be some kind of doctor. Neither Sotyia nor Dara had a clue as to how this man found out about Malen, but even if he knew things about their daughter, he was ignorant and ill informed – luckily for them. This Singaporean doctor seemed to just assume Dara and Sothiya were simple people, uneducated and easy to manipute. He didn't even try to mask his ugly intentions by covering them in more pleasing packaging, he just btantly asked to pay for their child. He'd told Sothiya he wanted to examine Malen, to see if there was a medical reason for her unheard of 'condition'. He seemed to think himself generous when suggesting Sothiya and Dara would be allowed to visit Malen in Singapore once or twice, all expenses paid. He told them he would make them famous, that they'd be rewarded, that it was all in best interest for Malen. But of course, they'd forfeit all cims to their daughter, he made this clear in a way suggesting he believed without a doubt money mattered far more to people of such low css than one daughter ever could. Sothiya hung up on the good doctor mid-sentence, so furious his blood boiled.

  As Dara now steered the rusty old car they'd borrowed home, she reminded herself to speak to Sothiya about that doctor again ter that night. They would never sell their child, but what if he indeed did know something that could help them? She gnced in the rearview mirror. Traffic on this highway always run smoothly in a way it didn't on any other road in the country. The road had been brand new when the Khmer Rouge sunk its teeth into the flesh of the nation. Now, it felt almost like a scar slicing through Kampuchea's soil, a testament of the madness that had driven the country to such horrific actions. The highway had been the st thing a starving country needed, but their former ruler had not cared about hunger. The highway was built with the cost of many lives, and the anger of the masses had grown with it. When the Khmer Rouge took control many believed things would get better. It was hard to imagine it could get worse. There are, after all, limitations to the human mind and its capability to fully fathom the cruelties mankind is capable of – even the cruelties they themselves will conduct. Maybe that's a good thing. Or maybe understanding our own evil could have prevented us from embracing it so na?vely.

  The hot asphalt under them created illusions on the horizon. Cars and motorcycles were passing them, they themselves passed worn out trucks and pedestrians. It was steamily hot in the car so Dara rolled down the window a bit more, longing for wind in her sweaty face. The ball of summer dress, sandals and raven-bck hair tangled from salt water in the backseat was Malen, sleeping with her thumb firmly anchored in her mouth. Sothiya closed his eyes next to Dara. She listened for his breathing once more. It seemed to have slowed a bit. Good.

  When she first saw it, she realised she had no idea for how long it had been going on. Her mind was full of doctors from Singapore, the sea, her daughter and hot asphalt. She stayed within the speed limit, as always. Dara had a driver's licence, but she rarely drove, so she was careful. She had her eyes fixed on the horizon, and maybe that was it: her ck of practice had made her stay focused on the road in front of them for a bit longer than she should've. It wasn't until she remembered to gnce in the rearview mirror again, that she saw it. They were alone on the road. There wasn't a single car behind them. No motorbikes or bicycles, no pedestrians or trucks. She scrunched her nose in surprise. Could it be because of an accident behind them? She felt no shame in thinking they'd been lucky to be ahead of it if that was the case.

  As she looked ahead again, she realised there were no cars in front of them either. Nothing, not even a cow or a buffalo by the road.

  "What in the world..." She took her eyes off the road for just half of a second, to turn to Sothiya, to tell him to wake up and look at this peculiar thing happening. Something in her periphery made her look back at the road, but it was too te. A white wall of fog and dust was upon them, and in it some strange kind of light. The st thought that fshed in Daras mind was wondering what that light was, thinking it resembled the same blueish light Malen had within her. The next moment they rammed full speed into the four cars that had crashed in front of them. Dara never saw them because of the fog and the light, and the fog hadn't been there a moment earlier. When she'd turned to Sothiya the road ahead of her had been clear as a day. It was like the chaos inside of the fog was something appearing out of thin air. She'd been able to see for miles ahead when she took her eyes off the road. Now she was thrown against the steering wheel with such force it made the seatbelt violently press the air out of her lungs, cracking a rib in the process. The seatbelt Sothiya told her to wear as they drove off an hour before. Gss hit her in the face, cut her scalp, her face and her chest, and a violent jolt to the side dislocated her left knee. She felt more ribs crack and her wrist break, but it didn't hurt. And it was completely silent around them. There should be ear deafening sound, metal screaming, gss breaking. Screaming. She heard none of that. She herself was just as quiet as they spun in the air.

  When the car stopped moving Dara couldn't tell what was up or down at first. No more blueish light, instead they were surrounded by darkness. As panic started to spread in her she took a raspy breath and made her first noise since turning to Sothia.

  "Malen..."

  Hearing her own voice saying her daughter's name rebooted her brain. Where was Malen?! She started screaming, thrashing against the seatbelt restraining her, desperately turning her head, looking for Malen. She wasn't there. Neither was Sothiya. She knew he'd worn seatbelt, as he was the sole reason for her doing so. But looking at the pce next to the seat where the belt were supposed to be fastened, all she saw was a crushed piece of pstic. Dara stopped breathing. Malen hadn't worn a seatbelt. Words, blood and screams all wanted to exit her mouth at the same time as horror took its grip on her, and it took her a moment to realise someone was talking to her. She didn't understand the words, but there was a voice. A man's voice. When a gentle hand touched her bloodied cheek she calmed a bit, just enough to see the blue eyes searching her face. Kind eyes in an otherwise insane looking face: oil, blood, soot and sweat all over it. She opened her mouth to speak but now nothing came out and had to try several times before she could say it: Malen. My daughter. Ignore me, find my daughter. Find Malen.

  The man seemed to not understand her, because he took out a small knife and began to cut into her seat belt. He was talking to her with a soothing voice while he cut, and that's when Dara realised, he spoke French. She could speak French! Her brain searched for the knowledge and the tongue for the words, but it didn't work, nothing came out and he just kept on smiling, talking and cutting. As the knife finally cut through the st of her belt she caught herself thinking it was an unfitting end for the one thing that had probably saved her life. Then arms started pulling her out of the car, gently getting her out of her deformed seat, and id her on the ground. Someone held her head and tried to pick shards of gss from it, while someone else fixed her dislocated knee with a violent yank. It hurt, for the first time she felt the pain, but it was almost as if experiencing it through someone else's body. The blue eyes blinked encouragingly at her as blood was wiped from her forehead. There were more people around them, people everywhere. None of them searched for Malen.

  A little girl in a yellow summer dress with hot air balloons printed on it and a brown pstic sandal in her hand – the other was missing – stood by the side of the road, so still. Her hair, bck like ravens' wings with copper highlights, in a ferocious mess over her slender shoulders. The pale green eyes were calm. The girl had just been through a horrible trauma, but she seemed unphased. She just stood there, her back to the road, facing away from screaming people and dead people and twisted, burning cars. She had her back to it, but not because she didn't want to look at it, but because she wanted to look at something else. In front of her, just a few metres away in the rice field, stood a water buffalo. White as salt and with rge, bck horns. The huge animal stood just as motionless as the girl as it met her gaze. It looked like they were speaking to each other, but without words. The white fur of the animal had spshes of red along its side. Blood, that had created a pattern looking like a macabre version of freckles. The animal seemed to care little about the blood, its focus was entirely on the girl.

  She took a step towards the buffalo. It didn't move, didn't turn its head. She took one more step, then another. She didn't stop until she was right in front of the huge beast, and as they continued to lock eyes she stretched her still salty little hand towards its muzzle. The buffalo lowered his eyes and allowed her to pet it. And then, in a peculiar sort of synchronisation, she lowered her hand at the exact time the buffalo turned its head to look at something else, something ying in the rice field next to them. The girl turned as well, turned to look at the strange thing that clearly didn't belong there. Her childish eyes saw trousers, once light green but now stained with dark red, brown, yellow. Mostly red. They saw what had used to be a cotton shirt and inside the shirt was a man. Arms and legs in angles not meant for them. A head hung against a chest with lungs that would never take a breath again. The face, unlike the body, was uninjured. It was a peaceful face, the kind of face of a man sleeping. It didn't look like death at all.

  The girl and the buffalo stood side by side, looking at the body in the rice field, in silence. Minutes passed.

  When one of the ambunce drivers finally spotted the child he first thought he was hallucinating. The scene was just too odd. A little girl, no older than five, next to a huge white water buffalo, in the middle of a rice field – the girl with an aura of some kind engulfing her. A weird blue light. Then he blinked, and the light was gone. He quickly collected himself and rushed out to the girl, into the field. He knelt in front of the child, at a safe distance from the buffalo. The rge animal scared him.

  "Hello dear. I think you should come with me now. I will help you." He tried to pick her up, but she was suddenly moving fast, too quick for him and his grip slipped. She didn't look at him. Instead, she pointed to something behind him. The paramedic was starting to get annoyed; the child was wasting time.

  "Enough, child. I said you need to come with me." He made another attempt, but the girl was still too fast. She kept pointing, so with a sigh he traced the path of her little index finger and instantly his stomach turned inside out. In his line of work he'd seen so much horror, unimaginable things. Still the sight of the mutited body in the water behind him made him empty his stomach on the ground in front of him.

  The girl finally looked at him. She waited until he was done, and then told him:

  "I can't go with you. I have to stay here with my dad."