The Mist Between Her And Forever

\\Chapter Thirteen\\

~Someday someone won't be afraid of how much they love you. They won't stay on the shore; they'll meet you in the depth~

\\Chapter Thirteen\\

"Hello?"

"Dad?"

"Arianna?" His usual stern voice delivered the same chill sensation throughout my entire body, just like every time I hear it.

"Is something wrong with project? What's the obstacle?" His mind was programed to always care about work, not giving a second thought to my welfare.

"No, nothing's wrong with the project. I just..." As I rearranged my thoughts, I started to regret the moment I decided to call.

What did I want to achieve by calling him? More pain? I definitely checked that off my list.

"What? Speak child. I don't have all day," he ordered sternly as my silence started to annoy him. Funny how I always appeared to be a source of irritation to him. Never once was I useful and worth listening too.

"Merry Christmas, Dad," I muttered slowly, wanting to laugh at the silliness of such a sentence. This felicitation was nothing more than a complete failure.

My demon stood clipping his lips together in front of me, prohibiting a wild laugh from escaping. He's looking at me as if I was some kind of a freak waiting for an illusion to come true.

The line goes silent, no reply was heard, just his heavy breaths.

I waited. Like I always did.

Waited for his approval. Waited for his love. And I waited for just a simple unemotional reply. I yearned for one. Simple words that could make me feel real to him, not some kind of a burden he desperately wanted to get rid of.

And that reply never came.
Never the approval.
Never the care.

Remissness. That's what I have always managed to receive.

I should have stuck to the stern father-daughter relationship we had. At least that way I didn't feel ashamed or miserable for thinking such rash thoughts.

Every thought I have ever thought of was a battle, every step forward was a war to me, and I didn't think I was winning anymore. I think I was secretly falling apart and my demon was the only one to notice me shattering.

The beeping of the phone indicating that he had hung up crawls into the depths of my stained soul, influencing the dark wicked creatures to resume on painting their odious marks, claiming my soul as an art museum for their masterpieces.

I remained rooted in my position, gazing at my demon as he traipsed down the street, hands behind his back, humming a gentle melody for me to follow. A lone tear slithered down my cheek, accompanying a wave of emotions capable of throwing me back to my miserable past and to abandon me there, with only my horrific flashbacks and tears to keep me company.

My dad's unspoken words dug deep into my chest, increasing the diameters of the hole in my weeping heart, as if sculpturing it for me to fall into, or maybe to be pushed into to face my inevitable doom.

This wasn't supposed to go like this. Our Christmas was supposed to be with me, mom, Fiona, and dad.

A family.

Something I was desperately searching for all my life. Guess that was an illusion I was trying to persuade myself to believe just to escape my drastic reality.

I snapped out of my gaze when the church bells rang again. I checked my phone to find it was passed midnight. Through the mirk night, I walked alone on the empty roads hugging myself tightly, trying to offer myself some warmth when I already lost all the light inside of me. I followed the humming my demon had already left behind to what I knew was not a very pleasant place. Yet, I still continued without fear, only numbness.