[The whole book is in past tense, it's a memory]
I have heard them say that it is the happy memories that hurt that most, because they create in us that tug of longing towards something forgotten in motion something we lost either to the future or the stars.
For years I had scoffed at this quote, it felt almost like a slap in the face from the universe, a mockery of my complicated childhood, did it mean to say that I hadn't felt real pain? Because to be very fair the word "happy memories" wasn't even a part of my dictionary back then, not until I met him. He was that ray of sunshine that strikes from behind the clouds, the one that captures a photographer's heart; snatching the last of ones breathe away. But what I had failed to realize was that the sun that resides in the sky sets at its certain time and so, mine did too. Though a little earlier than expected.
At 7 my peers would run across the lengths of the playground, dance in the meadows to the singing of birds while I used to drown myself in the melody of shattering goblets, the symbol of my shattering home. I remember it vaguely the tiny window in the attic from which I gazed out at the utopian reality of the other children my age, who used to walk around hand in hand with their parents, I could hear everything from the echoes of laughter to them recalling each and every moment of their days to their mothers. The love I saw in their eyes felt unreal and star struck like a reflection of my wildest dreams. That was the first time I felt that unknown sensation in my heart that swallowed me whole, the feeling of...
Envy.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Love?"
I raised my head from my book and up at the figure in the doorway, my eight year old self felt a twisted sense of guilt. Oh no! She would kill me, I was supposed to be asleep! I looked up at her, my pupils dilated I felt suffocated until I could barely breathe, I waited for the slap in the face my head bowed down in fear. But... it didn't come. Instead I found myself trapped in a barrel of arms, I could hear her suppressed sobs, her shaky breathe on my back as she held on to me I think for the first time since my birth.
"I am sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" She kept repeating it over and over again. Repeated so many times it lost its meaning. I didn't know what to do, after all I was just eight and naïve I had no idea about how the world worked all I knew was the emptiness I used to feel, the silent screams in my head. At that time all I remembered was how none of them nor my mother neither my father were there for me ever, never there to hold my hand when I walked across the street, not their to drop me off on my first day of school.
And so I did what I regret now, I pushed her away thinking my problems were more complex than hers, I did what an Asian child should never do, I screamed at her accusing her of robbing me of my childhood. At first she just sat there adjusting to the shock, that was when I knew I messed up. I closed my eyes and it came slowly, the sharp piercing pain as the ring on her finger rubbed against the coarseness of my cheek and I felt the slight trickle of blood down my face.
"I HATE YOU! I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN, You-you ruined me!" And she went on about how I was the worst thing that happened to her, it was only the first three sentences that had an impact on me after that my mind stopped processing the rest. And amidst her screams and sobs I looked up at her and guess what I did?
I smiled.
Authors note:
The first chapter is short, yes because i didn't want to unnecessarily make it longer. The next few chapters I'll try to make them longer. Also this is kind of an introduction to the writing style and the setting of the story. I would love an honest review and maybe some sort of ideas.
WAHAHAHHAA I NEED A BIT OFF LIKE YK HELP WITH HOW TO MAKE IT NOT BORING AND YK RELATIONSHIP BUILDING... YEA I SUCK AT THAT.
