SECRET GAY 21+

Ali' Pov I don't know where to start this story. But I'll give it a try. "Ali!" "Yes ma'am?" That's what people call my name. I am a man who comes from a remote village. Born as the last child of 7 siblings. I'm known as a quiet person, don't talk too much. But that doesn't mean my brain isn't spinning. My face looks cute. Some say, if my face looks handsome or handsome when I'm talking. But when I'm silent, someone says that my face looks pretty or beautiful. Huh, I didn't realize that either. Because all those judgments are not from myself. But from people who know and have seen me. Almost all of my family, judging my face, is very similar to my second older sister. My childhood, was quite heartbreaking and maybe painful, if I had to go back to my childhood. Yes, I was born to a mother who is a widow, born to a very simple family. Since childhood, I have never seen my father's face or touched. My father is not dead. According to the news, my father left me and my family, when I was 3 months old, after being born by my mother. My parents were not divorced either. My father left me and his family, initially because he was tricked by a basket of rice and also people who offered him a jewel that could give birth. In the past, my father owned a wood material business and also had a fairly large rice field. The impact of the fraud made my father sell his house and rice fields. The material finally went out of business. My father is in quite a large debt, which I cannot detail one by one. In fact, even after he sold his rice field and house, the debt was quite large. Seeing that, my father felt depressed and really felt very embarrassed. He was not ready for conditions that changed drastically like that. When I was 3 months old, my father decided and asked my mother's permission to go abroad to the city of Jakarta. My father asked my mother for permission, that he would become a taxi driver. My father also gave a message to my mother. "Mom, do I have permission to go? Please pray for me, ma'am, so that I will be successful? Later, I will always send letters and money home for you and your children." "Yes, sir. Mother will definitely pray for you. Be careful on the road, OK?" "Yes ma'am." Yes, my father promised my mother that he would always give news via a letter and would also send money to my mother. My father finally went to wander to the city of Jakarta. After my father left to wander, my mother and all of her children lived in a very simple house, which was built on land owned by her brother. But the fact? After many years after my father left to wander, my father never sent a letter or sent money to my mother. My father just disappeared, as if swallowed by the earth and never gave any news at all. Cring! Cring! "Sir?" My mother called the postman who was passing by. The postman immediately stopped and stood beside his ontel bicycle. "Yes ma'am, what's wrong?" asked the postman. "Sir, is there a letter from my husband named Aral?" My mother turned to ask the postman. "Wait a moment ma'am, may I check first?" Said the postman. "Okay sir." Said my mother. The postman immediately searched for the letters in the basket case, which was attached to the back seat of his ontel bicycle. "Sorry ma'am, nothing." Said the postman after looking through the letters. "Thank you very much sir?" Said my mother. "You're welcome, ma'am." Said the postman. Every time a postman was passing by on his bicycle to send a letter, my mother always stopped and asked something like that. But the answer from the postman, always the same. My father never sent a letter to my mother. Seeing this, my mother felt frustrated. Because like it or not, my mother had to bear and raise her children who were still small alone. My mother is also my father. Maybe that title is the right thing for him. My mother not only takes care of her, she also earns her own sustenance to raise her children. During all those years, my mother did not remarry. He really hoped and always looked forward to my father coming home. But besides that, in her heart my mother always hates me. Maybe, every time my mother saw me, it was because she had to remember my father's departure, right after not long after I was born by him. Every time my mother saw me, maybe the wound that scratched her heart was felt again. A dirty word related to the word animal, a pinch, a spit and a slap that I can't describe in a word, I have felt in my life from my mother's treatment. It can be said, my life is full of physical and spiritual deficiencies. I don't just feel a lack of affection. However, from a material point of view, there is always a shortage. I am also very aware of that. For just one day's meal, already give thanks. Yes, my thinking is mature by itself at my very early age. And all of that is due to circumstances. Every time I go to school, I rarely have money for snacks. Even my uniform, used from my brother's. However, I always accept it. "Mak, ask for pocket money?" "Mama, want pocket money please?" Plaque! Tet! "Ouch!" "Ahh!" My left palm directly holds the eye. My tears fell down my cheeks. Feels so very hot, my mother's slap. The palm of my right hand wiped the saliva that was running down my face. I immediately ran behind the house and cried under a tree. 'What did I do wrong?' I groaned in my heart. "You child doesn't know himself?! Just die with your father!" gosh! Hearing words like that. In my mind, I thought that my father had passed away. Whenever I asked for school supplies or pocket money, my mother would scold me, spit at me, slap me and sometimes pinch me really hard. It hurt a lot, but I didn't cry out a cry. I just cried out tears then ran away from him. In fact, when I fight with my friend. Even though I wasn't at fault, my mother always blamed me and then beat me. Am I not jealous of the lives of my other friends? I feel very jealous of the lives of my friends who always seem cheerful, never lack of snacks, and also seem not to feel a lack of love. But my jealousy is only buried in my heart. I can only speculate. 'If my life is like my friends, my life must be very happy, just like him.' 'If I had a father like them, maybe my life would be happy, just like them.' That's my supposition. My mother feeds her children by working as a daily maid and sometimes also as a farm laborer in the rice fields. Huh, with my life status like this, it makes some people in my hometown like to criticize my life. "You poor son of a b***h!" "You illegitimate child!" "You son of a widow!" Those are the words from several mouths of some of my friends at school and also some people in my village. Those words always ring in my mind, because they said it directly in front of me. Every time I get this treatment, I just shut up. I can only shed tears. My heart is also hurt by their words. Very sore, really feels very sore, these days that I live. Moreover, when they told me that I was an illegitimate child. 'What? Illegitimate child? What does illegitimate child mean? What kind of thing, that illegitimate child?' Ask my heart. I don't understand the meaning of the term "illegitimate child". Because at that time, I was still in first grade. However, seeing from the way they said and from the style of their speech, I could judge it too. When they told me that illegitimate child, I felt that I was someone who looked very disgusting to them. Yes, my judgment is like that, because after they said the illegitimate child, they spit "Ouch!" What do I do and how do I feel, when I get words like that? I was just silent, shedding tears and grumbling to that person in my heart. I do not dare to deny or fight their words. So even when I received the word, that I am a widow's child. I don't like complaining to my mother. All that I buried in my own heart. Maybe my mother also often liked to be gossiped about and gossiped about because of her status as a poor widow. Even so, my mother did not care about what they said. My mother seemed to cover her ears and remain relaxed.