In the midst of the lupins

𝙸𝙸

On the shore of the lake where we once sat and had picnics now lay white carnations. They are as pure as the snow, as sad as he, my dad. Now you are somewhere alone in another world, just tell me where, and my foot will step there, into the unknown.

But I still feel you. Pictures of childhood flash in front of me, and now the forest has changed before my eyes. It is still the same lemon and blooming. Probably trying honey fantasies for the last time. Sadness breaks my heart...

Like a sponge I absorb golden light and cheerful wind. And already a thin, slowly reaching nose wet smell settles in the lungs. But the euphoria is cut short when I feel a hand on my shoulder. She, against my will, returns me from the world of fantasy to the real and soulless.

No one knew that this would be our last dinner. You will not return to work, but just recently we rejoiced at your merits, premium... If I only told you everything that happened to me behind the spruce bushes, everything would take a different turn. You would never have come to the forest that very day, instead we would have visited the police station. Now I would not stand with my mother at your carnations...

The Strangler did everything so that I could warn you against death, but even so, the only opportunity was lost.

We walked home and everyone was still silent. If you knew, mom, what's going on in my head. My own voice continues to blame and scold my actions, I can no longer cope with it. And the gates escorting to the city almost overtook us. It's time to say farewell to this forest, but nothing is found except: "Bye, unfortunate nursery." In addition to the joyful ones, there were also sad episodes that far exceeded the scales. And all thanks to the torment that I suffered in this place.

"Beomgyu, can you explain to me what the spots on your neck are?"

I can't just take and dump her the act of my suffering. The mouth does not move to say that right here in the forest, I almost got killed. And I could have left this world before my father, if only she had not intervened on time.

"I don't know," was my answer.

"If they get darker, let's go to the hospital. If something hurts you, don't be silent. If you're not feeling well, speak up," she said, trying to suppress her twitchy voice.

"Okay," I didn't dare to argue anymore.

When we returned home safe and sound, I was devastated. I cried all evening and somehow fell asleep with a blocked nose. I had to suffer with him, because of which I again experienced suffocation, that chilling spasm in my back and saw my hands devoid of blood. I feverishly clutched at my throat and shook off the spirit of a young man (if it would help). This is a vicious circle. I gave up. My withered eyes weakened, and I sank into the darkness, in which I caught the cry of my mother.

I'm sorry... But I'll probably never tell you about it.

My mother after the death of my father lost the whole palette of emotions. The last time I saw her dimples was that morning when I thought I was going to the station after school.

Then we saw off my father on his last journey.

I only imagined that morning and saw nothing before my eyes. Everything turned into a muddy funnel. And as soon as I blinked, a path of two line was laid on my cheeks. And only hands muffle the cry, ready to break out. This is the fourth day I've been skipping school. I don't know when I'll be back there.

"But everything could be fixed!" I repeat day after day.

On these days, I was distracted by cooking for my mother and me. No pain compares to the loss of a loved one, and I understood that from now on her smile would be a rare occurrence in my life. And for some reason, we began to avoid eye contact. It was a fleeting second, and she looked away somewhere on the floor, like an offended child, but in her head he was plotting something.