If I strained my ears long enough, the buzz from the harsh light could become that blaring hum. The sound of her sure death. I stood over her body motionless. A thin sheet beckoned me closer. Ever so slightly reaching for the corner, I pulled slowly downward. Each simple movement I made seemed to be emphasized. I inhaled deeply, an icy breath, the room had chilled the very same moment. I forced my head to turn towards her's with my heart pounding in my ears. Who I saw was not the loathsome beast of my past, but my mother.
She looked so peaceful, so content. I nearly forgot that this was indeed the person who'd beat me mercilessly throughout my childhood. I starred within the chocolate depths of her unseeing eyes. Suddenly, I had the urge to sob in her arms...to cry as she held me close.
I knew both temptations were not possible even if she were alive. I held her limp hand in mine, receiving a shock that buckled my knees. Falling to the floor, I let sixteen years worth of pain and ache come whooshing out of me. Trembling at the sight of my beast. I couldn't. I just couldn't forgive her. I had tried and fail many times before. With my head in my knees a realization slipped through my thoughts with such ease, that I knew I'd known it all along: I came here not just to see my unloving mother, but to try to forgive the monster she'd become. And I simply couldn't. Then another voice in my head suggested, Or wouldn't.
I raised my reluctant eyes toward her's and said with venom dripping in every syllable, "Why...? What gave you the excuse to ruin me? You know, I spent all my life waiting, for the moment you'd start to love me...care for me. It NEVER came! And nothing, NOTHING gave you the right to do this to me! You LEFT me!"
I backed away from The Morgue, screaming at my unlistening mother. Hands wrapped around me, soothingly, holding me. I shut my eyes at the cool touch, wanting nothing more than to fall back into their chest and never let go. I opened my tear-filled eyes as a frozen breath caught in my lungs. No one was there. Or I just couldn't see her...
My mother.
I heard a whisper in the wind from afar, yet so close, "Please."
My reply slipped off my tongue before I ever knew it did, "I forgive you, Mother."
YOU ARE READING
A Color With Love
Dla nastolatkówSofie Anne Martez was not born into love. She had to earn it, to a very high price. Her mother, an alcoholic with a rather abusive nature, committed suicide. And no, she can't go running to her dad because thanks again to her mother, he's dead. She'...
