Yellow

Three

It was the second of July and for the first time since half a year the sun shone brightly. My three older brothers were nowhere to be found, neither my folks who I wanted to show the sun.

 I opened the door from the small bedroom I shared with my brothers and walked towards the rotting corridor. The wallpaper was old and smeared with all kinds of stuff, from chalk to food, the floorboard was creaking beneath my too small sneakers as I turned my head at a sob coming from my parents' bedroom.

 I moved my 5 year old body towards the door and stretched out my arm to touch the door handle, it opened creaky and uneasy, but did show me the scene inside. I saw my mother sitting at her bed with my father next to her. My three brothers sat in a neat row on the floor as my father was trying to shush the woman with the tears in her eyes. 

I took a step inside as all the eyes turned on me. I walked towards my mother, the only one in the family I had bonded with and put my hand on her knee and gave her a sincere smile while asking "Mommy? What is wrong?". 

At that age I had no idea what was going on, I had no idea that my father was a criminal master mind and that my mother suffered from depression. I had no idea that my brothers helped my father build the network that fell short after their dead. I had no idea that the little money we had came from killing and beating up. 

The youngest of my older three brothers was only 9 and was already learning the ways from my father. My mother put her hand on my cheek and left a kiss on my head.

"My beautiful boy," she brought out while the tears kept running, "don't you ever lose that smile." 

Then my father took the hand laying upon my mother's knee and looked me in the eye with a stern expression. 

"Leave us alon'," he said almost snarling, "ye go outside an' play, boy."

 I nodded and turned around throwing a last assuring look towards my mother and closed the door behind me. That was the first memory I kept.

Although my sight was perfect, I was blind. I wasn't cynical yet, sure that humanity was meant to fall. Although my hearing was excellent, I was deaf. I wasn't bitter yet, sure that the sounds I heard were all so beautiful. Although my senses were sophisticated, I didn't feel a thing. I wasn't sad yet, sure that every time the sun came up I could start again, but not aware that that was a privilege.

G:q~