“excerpt from x”
I carelessly rub my eyes and wipe away the sleep. The dim light radiates, the wake of the day begins to creep through the blinds like a child peeking out from behind the protection of its parent. As I sit up in my bed, I begin to process my thoughts. Replays of last night’s dream flood my memory but I quickly push them to the back of my mind as I push the blanket off of me. To my right, the clock reads 5:03 AM. The early morning emerging from the night as it begins to shy away and leave room for the day had left the sky stained a cold blue and my heart stained with the colors of you. I’m sorry, I really am. I get up and shudder as my feet come in contact with the cold tile. I casually slip out of the empty bedroom and make my way towards the bathroom. As I slip into the shower my mind wanders to a memory, one that I tried so hard to bury quickly resurfaced, a memory drowned by the murky waters it was being concealed by:
Everything was cold. His hands slipped around my throat and I wanted to scream or to fight back or to resist at all. But I didn’t as I slowly let my eyes close and it scared me, it scared me more than the monster with his hands around my throat, trying to kill me. I was convinced that I wanted to die because up until then I never realized that there needed to be a purpose to live. But then it hit me. Bad choice of wording on my behalf but still. I didn’t want to die this way or at least not yet. I opened my eyes to see that the dimly lit living room was no longer the safe place it used to be and that the furniture was in disarray like the remains of this sad excuse of a family. His body reeked of alcohol and his eyes no longer displayed the man who raised me with so much love, in his place was a monster. My father was gone, taken by a demon disguised in a bottle and transformed into a raging alcoholic who no longer could love. I wanted to give up but there was still you. The thought of you gave me have a reason to live because even though I had lost the love from him I still had yours. I looked around the “living” room, where I was ironically about to die in and searched. Searching for one desperate last resort, anything at all. And I saw the glass frame that held the last photo we took as a family. Dad had a smile so bright it made the sun look dull and Mom looked alive. You could see her hair was thinning as a result of the chemo but she looked so alive. Then there was me, with a slight sunburn on the visible parts of my body and eyes that sat half closed due to the glaring sun and a wholesome smile aimed at the camera. I wondered: “How did we end up here?” before reaching out for the bulky glass photo frame and swung. The glass shattered and shards stuck out of the side of his head as the grip loosened. Suddenly everything was cold again, the once lively lives we shared together collapsed and nothing was ok and everything became worse. Blood slowly began to drip down and his body became still. I smiled for the first time in a long time. For a split-second I felt the adrenaline, then bliss, and then there was no feeling at all. I continued not to feel anything when the police arrived or when they stuck me in that psych ward for three months afterward.