My eyes burn. I feel cold. I ask my brother for another blanket, he tells me to shut up and sleep. I am hungry but I can’t get up. I call my mum, but she doesn’t hear my voice. I call her again. My brother presses a pillow on my face till I promise to not disturb him again. I say, “I promise.” He takes the pillow off. I breathe slowly. I hear Papa and mum in the other room. Mum says, “No, not tonight. I am not well.” Papa says, “Shut the fuck up and open your fucking legs.” Why doesn’t mum listen to Papa?  

I want to sleep but I can’t. My mouth feels bitter. I pat my forehead gently. I saw an aunty do it on TV to her baby. It fell asleep. I feel very warm from inside. I cover my ears with my blanket. I wish mum holds my hand. My eyes close.

Mum wakes me up and measures the temperature. The thermometer feels cold in my warm mouth. She pushes my hair back and rubs my forehead. She gives me a tablet. I say I don’t want to have it, but she says it will make me feel less cold. It makes my mouth more bitter. She gives me milk and cookies. She holds my hand and kisses my cheek. “You will be fine sweetheart,” she says.

“Brenda, what is this? Anne has fever and you haven’t taken her to a doctor yet?” Papa scolds mum.

“John, the temperature is not much. I‘ve given her a Panadol. If she doesn’t feel better in the morning, I will take her to the doctor,” mum says. She knows what to do.

“Honey, I will take you a doctor tomorrow, ok?” Papa says. He smiles and pecks on my forehead and then acts like his lips got burned. I smile. He reads me the Cinderella story. He calls me his Cinderella.

I wake up. But I don’t feel better. I am still hungry. I call my mum. She doesn’t hear me. She would come otherwise.