When I was younger, I used to sit at my window sill and watched boys passing by, chasing one another, cycling around or just being neurotic. It was not that I ogle at such creatures, but rather, I found myself wanting to have the freedom they had. Back then, I used to think that men have more say than women, like mom would agree to whatever dad would suggest while he on other hand, makes all the decision. But that was way back then.
I was 6 when I had my first asthma attack. And since then, dad had been strict of my going out of the house. So, I would end up in my room all day, looking miserably by the window. My window was my refuge in times of disappointment and sorrow. And on times when I needed to release my anger, I would punch the wall at the side.
I reached home later in the evening, worn out and hurting. And surprisingly, no one was at home. I decided to head straight to my bedroom although I was starving, and that hot chocolate I had earlier on had turned bitter in my mouth, too bitter that I felt like puking.
I stomped to my room and slammed the door shut. My window was wide open, leaving the floor below it wet with rain. I took some dirty laundry which was scattered in my room and threw it at the drenched floor. "F*ck this!" I screamed.
Then, I walked directly to my bed and submerged myself in it, grasping for air. I stared at the ceiling above. My whole body was burning with rage and I felt tears in the edge of my eyes. I wanted to cry, but why should I? Why would I cry for someone who was never mine? I quickly wiped my eyes and rose up from my bed.
I dragged myself to my window, which was the sanctuary I had forgotten after asthma left me when I turned 12. I then had my gaze at the damaged wall beside it, remembering all the anger I had threw at it, and leaving a little blood stain on the poor wall. I could still picture out the day it happened.
I was eager to attend a birthday party of a friend named Julia. Julia was the sweetest of all. In fact, she was the girl I first liked, secretly. Dad had agreed of me going to her party but with specific time, mainly 2 hours. For the first hour, I had fun playing around, specially with Julia. And for the next, probably it was one of the most agonizing moments I had growing up. Julia's crush, David, came with a teddy bear as a gift. And in an instance, I saw Julia's eyes brightened up, which completely hurt me. David pulled Julia to one side, for some privacy I guess, while I watched them from a far. I knew that if I cried in that instant, I would be taunted at by the other kids around. So I held my tears while I watched the two with jealousy and wrath. Go and die David, I cursed in my head.
"Come on Arch, it's time to go home."
"But dad, I'm not ready yet." I replied irritably. I could not possibly just leave my Julia to that moron.
"We have to go! You can't miss your medication." Dad insisted and pulled me to his car, while I fought off his strength. But too bad, dad was stronger.
When we got home, I hastily rushed to my bedroom and banged the door shut. I started screaming and messing up my room. Then I walked to my window, looked at the passers-by with anger and gave the wall beside it a hard punch. My hand bled but I was too numb to feel the pain.
My phone started vibrating. I quickly took it out from my pocket. Jane was calling. And at one, I hung up on her. Her voice was not the one thing I needed right now. Actually, I do not need to hear anything from or about her. I took a deep breath and started punching the wall as hard as I could. Then I made a stop when I felt a crack in one of my knuckles on my left hand.
"Fuck..." I groaned and quickly rushed for a first-aid kit which was hanged beside my workstation. And then I remembered that ice was one best remedy for fractured bones. I immediately ran to the kitchen.
After I had placed the ice on my injury, I sunk myself to the couch. I could feel both my hand stinging, particularly the fractured knuckle. I then threw my head back to the couch, looked at the ceiling while holding the ice to my injured hand.
So who could that lesbian be? Who was that lady who was passionately making out with Jane? And Jane seemed to have been yearning for her presence from the way they kissed. And why did I happen to pass by that street while driving back home? I would rather not know anything than seeing truth thrown in front of my face. Maybe that lesbian was the reason Jane had rejected me. "Oh fuck..." I mumbled as my wound twinge. And damn, I forgot about my big game tomorrow. I couldn't possibly play well with this injury.
"Why now god?" I moaned.
****Guys, the next chapter will be uploaded on Wednesday. I just want to keep you guys excited. I know this chapter's very disappointing. But hold your breathe, 'cause it will be the last and most awaited chapter of all. Don't expect fairy tales in this story though, but I'd definitely give you a good one.
And thanks to those who showed concern over my break up. I've moved on now, I guess.
GAY PRIDE! BE HAPPY! =)
And I think foxxy89's hot in her display pic.
