At What Cost?

/3/ A Birthday Reminder (part 1)

[CRISTIAN]

I stare at the ceiling, eyes wide open in the dark. As Sleep tries to escape me when I try to catch it leaving me here-awake, tired, and lost with my messed up mind.

I move to the other side of the bed, trying to get comfortable, but it's no use. I keep on thinking about it.. Why can't it just let me go?. I squeeze my eyes shut, but a second of silence the pieces of that darkness again just won't leave me-Screams of my beloved mother, and fragments of that memory just keep on playing, not letting me sleep another night.

This is how I've been for weeks. Or months. I've lost track. Insomnia has become routine leaving a tired look on my face, there are times I caught my sleep but I woke up with tears on my cheeks. Well there's medication for my insomnia but it's not that much of a help.

I've already thought about leaving this world, leaving the pain that causes me but the price to pay is I'll have to leave people I love the most, my personal therapist or should I say my mother by heart, My auntie, uncle and cousin who is still abroad, and no matter how much I hate my Father I just can't leave him. If I take my life this early and give up now I'll never get the chance to chase who killed my Mother.. I'll never get the chance to feel what it feels like to be loved by someone..and also being okay with my Father...those are the things i wanna do before I die.

As I glance at my clock and it's still early 4:00 a.m. in the morning. I stand up and walk to my study area. I rub my hands over my face and fix my hair and start studying.

6:00 a.m. beep beep beep

I move away from the table with my chair and stretch a bit before getting ready for school. I walk to the kitchen and look for something else to eat. I can't go to school sleepless and starving.

Then I saw a casserole at the center of the table with a piece of paper hanging from the handle. Before reading it I prepared a bowl and opened the lid of the casserole. It's macaroni soup... T-this is my...A single tear fell off my cheek. This is what I always ask my mother to cook for me on each of my birthdays.

"Father, did you make this?" I said as my voice echoed around the house while wondering where in the house he might be..but seeing what time it is tells me that he had already gone to work. "Then who made this?" I remembered there was a piece of paper on the handle.

'It's your day..I made this for you..I know my cooking is different but, It tastes good'

As I taste the macaroni soup, every spoonful brings back glimpses of the good times I had with my mother, and soon tears escape my eyes and run through my cheeks, I put the spoon down, wiping down my tears away. But before I could finish my meal, dark horrible memories creeped in. It feels like being at the end of a movie-just when I think the hero has defeated the villain, and giving me a moment to savor the triumph, the villain unexpectedly rises again, threatening my peace.

After I got dressed, I walked outside my room and made my way to the living room, where my driver was waiting.

"Who are we waiting for? I'm gonna be late for school. Can you just drive me now?" I asked, feeling impatient.

"There he is," Mr. Connor said, pointing toward the entrance.

"Sorry for making you guys wait! Hey, hey, hey, cuz!" he said as he stepped inside.