Counting The Seconds

*READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, DARK STORY* :)

When they look into my eyes, they see blue and a light shade of grey. But they never bothered to look behind them, nor In front of them. They never will. 

I was the Coco Rocha of Hilton High, once. I had boys at my feet, girls glued to my back. I was the one you wouldn’t have a party without. That was past.

“What happened to the girl who had think eyelashes and blossom cheeks?” “What happened to the girl with the pure, irresistible smile?” They say they understand. They think they do. Truth is...

They never will.

After six long hours of bearing with lectures that seemed to last for centuries, I made my way home. Where I would be left alone. Where I would have no one else beside me as I sulked in the corner. I had always wanted it this way after it happened.

I had loved my mother. My sister. I had loved my dad, too. I adored him to bits. He took me to parks. He taught me how to ride a two-wheeled bicycle. He made sure I knew my math formulas. He was a dad any child would have wished for

And he had loved me too.

Till that day. He had put on a face I couldn’t read. It was expressionless, but full of expression at the same time. From the morning till then, he didn’t poke me in the waist. He didn’t ask if I had done my math homework. He didn’t randomly squeeze me in his arms and remind me that he loved me. I had thought it was only a bad day.

I was reading in my room. One side of my earphones are in my right ear. I was humming to the song blasting in my ear when I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from little Livian’s mouth. Then what came after that was, “Daddy! What are you doi-” She didn’t even get to finish the sentence.

I snatched the earphones off my ear and threw the book off my lap. I hurried downstairs, fervently praying I wasn’t too late.

Which I was.

Mom was sprawled across the floor, blood flooding out of her chest. Her eyes stayed wide open, possibly still holding the emotions she had as she counted her last seconds. Little Livian was lying on the cold tiled floor next to mom. She was curled up like a prawn. She would’ve looked as if she’d only fell asleep on her bed if there were hot pink bed sheets instead of crimson liquid.

When I looked at the man I once called my father was when I lost all senses. He had a chunk of hair pressed up against his nose as he inhaled heavily, as if his life depended on it. Those were probably of the bald spots in the heads of who had baked pancakes for me in the morning and who had snapped all my crayons to two. My legs trembled. After an eternity, he opened his eyes. As he locked his gaze with me, he grinned. But this wasn’t my father grinning. It was a homicidal stranger ready for the next whiff of SunSilk hair shampoo.

And so I ran…

Snapping back to the present where I had a history assignment to complete, I fiddled around my bag for the key to unlock the door to my apartment.

Out of the blue, a boney yet strong hand slapped tight on my mouth, securing it and making sure my cries of help wouldn’t be heard. The hand smelled horribly of iron and dirt. I didn’t have to guess. I knew who it was. He had yelled out that he’ll find me one day. I hadn’t believed till this very moment.

I guess it was finally my turn to count the seconds.