'Pity' and 'charity' are the two words I hate the most. There used to be a third word - 'Alcohol'. But after my father ran away alcohol didn't bother me as much as the other two did.

Alcohol was my enemy. It turned even a good person into a monster. There were happy days or alcohol-free days when my father was actually good. We were always poor but at least we had food every day and didn't go to sleep with bruises.

My father's alcoholism tore down our lives. I wouldn't mind if he got drunk and lay unconscious near a gutter. But he became a monster, a monster who would beat me and mom to a pulp every single night.

I still remember that day. The alcohol monster returned to my father's place. He was more cruel than usual. He had never before touched my 6-year-old sister. But he kicked her that day, making her mouth bleed.

I couldn't take it anymore, I slapped the bastard in the face with all the might and force a ten-year-old could muster. He got furious enough to come to kill me. I ran but I heard him drunkenly following me. I climbed into a creek and hid, no one found me the whole night.

I was getting thirsty as morning arrived, but sure as hell, I couldn't return home. If that monster found me I would be as good as dead. So I stayed.

That's when she came, she found me hiding in the creek. She was wearing a white frock and her face was angelic. It was like I was looking at the sun.

The angel gasped, "Oh my god! Are you alright?"

I smiled. The question was so rhetorical. Judging by the stink on my face I looked anything but alright.

"Are you stuck?"

I shook my head.

"You are hurt, why are you there?"

"Hiding."

"You are playing hide and seek when you are hurt!" She scolded me.

"No, I am hiding from my father."

"You need to go home. Don't worry, he won't be mad at you. Just tell him the truth on how you got hurt, I am sure he would be worried."

"I don't want to go home."

My voice must have betrayed some fear as she stopped talking and looked at me shrewdly.

"Fine, you don't have to go home, but come out. It looks terribly uncomfortable."

I shook my head.

"I am a doctor, I will treat your wounds."

I shook my head again.

"If you come out I will give you a chocolate."

She held out her hand. The promise of chocolate didn't lure me out, but the prospect of holding her hand did. She looked so good to be real. I took her hand and watched my dark skin contrast with her fair one. I have never touched anyone this fair in my life.

She cleaned my wound and applied ointment. I looked at her in fascination. She offered me her bottle to drink some water. I took it, my mouth was so parched I completely emptied her bottle before returning it. She smiled as she accepted it.

"I promised you a chocolate, here and if you agree to go home I will give you another gift."

I panicked immediately thinking of the monster waiting for me at home. She hugged me and gently patted my shoulder mumbling, "Everything will be alright."

And everything was alright, I came home to find my father never returned home last night. He never returned afterward. We were still poor and slept with an empty stomach most of the days but at least we weren't bruised or bleeding.

The only thing that bothered me was I didn't know my angel's name. Every day I went to the spot hoping I would meet her one day. At night I would stare at the gift she had given me, she gave me her pen marked with an 'A'.

The ten-year-old me didn't know what love was or what being married to someone meant, but all I wanted was to marry and make my angel my wife.