I beg to differ that.", I sassed and got out of his grip ready to move out of the room when he pulled me by my elbow and the next second I was pushed on the visitor's chair.
He trapped me completely by keeping his palms on the arms of the chair.
"I...
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Have you ever lost something? If you have, you know what it's like, the hollowness, the constant reminder of not having that particular thing.
But what if someday you find it again, there'd be the rush of joy, and the thrill of an ending, and relief that it was all over.
Nicolas and his family made me go through that rush of joy and thrill of happiness.
I can swear on my life, after Mumma left, this week was the best week of my life. I felt like I was the only one. Nicolas treated me like I was a queen and Mama as if I was a princess. It felt so strange, I was not her daughter, hell she hardly knew me then too she made me feel like I was one of the most important part of her life.
I had the time of my life, during the daytime I'd enjoy myself with Mama. Shops, parks, movies with Mama, all of that. But at night I'd be waiting for him. In the middle of the night, he'd come and I'd get the thrill of my life like I knew it was going to happen ever since I was a little kid.
I changed my dinner time and nowadays he and I used to eat together, no matter how many times he tried to convince me to have my dinner but I was also a stubborn woman, I'd always say no.
And a greater part of me knows, he loved every single part of that time.
And that's the reason I never stopped waiting for him.
But you know, happiness and sadness are two sides of the same coin. Good days are like sand, you can't hold them forever however hard you try, they'd slip through your fingers any-f*cking-how.
But bad days are like rain, they're just like what they are, they'll keep on coming, you can't make them go away. The days that are so dark you lose all strength and hope, and faith in your own existence, and all you can do is curse why the hell are you on this earth?
My Mumma's death anniversary was tomorrow. So was my f*cking birthday.
In my heart of hearts, I knew I would never forget that day, how my mother died right in my arms, I felt so miserable and defenceless that day, it can't be described in words, I remember how I cried so hard I cried into her chest. I cried for myself, for my life, for my world, I cried because I felt so lonely, and hopeless.
Every year for the last four years, I'd go to her grave and talk to her for hours and that's because I always ended up in tears. I was a weakling.
For some people, it may sound dramatic but for me, it was the worst day of my life. Only if I had the common sense to judge the people, I'd have known what sort of a best friend he was. The only person whom I trusted with my life took away my desire to live.
For him, I fought with my Mumma, how many times I don't even remember.
The demons of that night had been haunting me for as long as I remember but the night before her death and my so-called birthday, they would turn stronger than ever, they make me relive all those nights I spent crying.
