I was playing Hide-N-Seek with other neighbourhood children on that Sunday evening. It’s needless to say that after that I had never been seen again.
My memory is still not to rely on, but I’d say it’s been a couple of centuries from that day, which must have been a Sunday cause my mum was cursing. Mum always used to swear when grandpa arrived, cause she said she hated nursing him even for that one day in a week. She also said that he was a senile sack of bones with an unreliable bladder, whose faeces smelled awful, and that she wasn’t obliged to clean it, with his own son at home. Dad never paid attention. That’s why I always sneaked around grandpa’s wheel-chair, trying to figure out which part of clothing faeces exactly represented, but I never got it.
My dad always said child’s reason’s good for nothing, and that I couldn’t even tell Monday from Saturday, which, to him, obviously made some big difference I couldn’t seem to find. Every day to me was new and exciting, and like grandpa had said, I did get older and wiser by the minute. At least I thought so. Now it is impossible to tell.

Anyway, this Sunday I went far off to the bushes near the cemetery, where I knew other kids wouldn’t dare to look for me. That was when he came up to me.
He approached me really closely and said: “Hello there!”.
In that moment I was sure faeces must have been mouth since I had to hold my breath when he spoke again, and started contemplating why would mum use such an absurd term for something so simple.
“What’s your name?”, he continued nicely, reeking from his fecal. I blushed. Dad told me once not to talk to strangers, but then again, another time he said that little girls never listen to what the elderly prudently advise, but act only in stubborn stupidity. So, I answered joyfully: “Suzzy!”
“Well, hello again, Suzzy”, he started moving his index finger over my arm gently, yet, his finger was very rough and seemed dirty, so I shivered. “My, you’re such a pretty girl.” He grinned toothlessly, which made him look both ugly and interesting. I immediately put this observation into words: “You should go to a dentist, sir. Beside, your faeces really smells bad, and you could end up in a wheel-chair like my grandpa because of that.”
For a moment he looked puzzled, but then laughed out loudly. My daddy laughed like that when I would tell grandma that her face looked as if she was melting. Mum never liked that, and she would chase me around the house hitting me on the head, because I insulted her mum. She would then calm down and explain that I wouldn’t like to see anyone insult her like that, but I really didn’t care. I always agreed though, it was better than being hit on the head.

This man was now shaking with laughter, which scared me a bit. But then I realized who he reminded me of and suddenly felt totally secure. With his long gray beard, and a dusty torn suit he looked just like Santa shortly after sliding down through the chimney, only without teeth. So I grabbed him by the hand and asked curiously, to see if he’d confirm my thoughts: “And what’s your name?”
“I’m Mr. Peterson”, he smiled mildly. I screamed. He didn’t look like a bunny rabbit at all!        

***
I used to pretend I was on a stage, singing and dancing around, thanking the audience for their close attention, even though I was sure that even those in the back rows would see me just fine, and that they needn’t be so close. But that was the phrase all the performers used. I might have been only 7, but I was a professional.
Neighbours didn’t like my music. They would come up to my mum asking if she had taken me to the doctor’s yet, cause there was definitely something wrong with my hearing abilities, and that no one normal could play their music so loudly. Now, I could never lay my finger on it, what exactly hearing abilities had to do with being normal or not. She would betray me every single time, complaining to dad who’d beat me up properly. But I couldn’t stop, I had to practice in order to launch my career. I thought of explaining that to him, but he probably wouldn’t understand anyways, having already wasted his entire life. He liked to repeat this sentence at family dinners, after drinking few glasses of something that looked like pee.
Once, he was home when the neighbour came again, holding her son, about my age, by the hand. When she started her old story that we all had already known by heart, his face suddenly changed. Looking very tired, he brought me up in front of her and told her to tell me if it was me she had problems with.
“Young lady, it is rude to play music so loudly at this hour. You know, some people here like to sleep at nights!”
I didn’t think this speech was fair, and I immediately put my observation into words: ”Well, it is also rude of you to scream at your son every night! You scare me and sound like a witch, and say naughty words! You know, some people here like to sleep too!”
She turned red with something between anger and embarrassment, and the boy at her sleeve started crying, probably realizing that she would have to shake off this anger on someone, and he knew whom. I felt guilty when she left. But dad reassured me, since he started laughing like when I would tell grandma that her face looked as if it was melting. Mum noticed: “Honey, you shouldn’t encourage her rudeness.”
“Oh, c’mon”, he started as he calmed a bit, ”this kid is a goddamn genius! She could answer to anybody! I think she could even walk up to old Peterson explaining him why he is a dirty pedophile!” He continued laughing, but mum frowned: “I don’t want to hear that name again. That man should’ve stayed locked up forever.”
I frowned too. I never knew a man by the name of Peterson, and I didn’t know what a pedophile was anyway. I figured it was a kind of animal, probably with fur, like a bunny rabbit, since it is harder to wash, and dad said this Mr. Peterson had a hygiene problem. But that shouldn’t be a reason to lock people up, although they did that to me too when I wouldn’t wash my hands before dinner. But soon I started pondering how come I had never noticed fluffy people walking about before, and if these pedophiles were actual people, or rather like pets, that could be purchased in stores, just like bunny rabbits.