MnC15

Unexpected Turn

-What's left of the ember-

My life goal was to constantly seek the truth. And the truth for me was passion.

My dream was always to be an animator. Those days watching cartoons and anime inspired me.

Drawing was my passion, writing was my passion and enjoying life was my greatest passion of all.

That's where we came to conflict.

Controlled by her grandmother, freedom was a spec of dust to her.

She envied my life at some point and relentlessly grappled me for emotional support.

I did provide while compromising some time for myself.

She was compulsive and straight with her words, reminiscent to her grandmother.

She hated my art, one because it explicated women, and those nasty ones I kept hidden.

So it began. The purge.

I threw all of my creations into the flames, gave my art supplies to my niece, so she could make use of them.

I dedicated myself to her, no questions asked.

But, a growing hatred started boiling in me.

The lack of purpose and passion was painful, all my hard work, ashes.

Eventually, our fights turned for the worse.

Individuality was her least favorite word. She believed in oneness, so she always tried to change me.

One night, we fought through the phone. She said she'd be outside my house in a minute. She always trusted me, I always complied with her demands.

It was unbecoming of me to leave people I love, alone.

But that time, she waited outside the whole night.

I left her out in the cold.

I didn't answer her calls, I didn't reply to her messages.

The growing pain harden my heart and painted it black, it wasn't the pain of losing my dream, it was the pain of trusting your world to someone, only to watch them crush it into a million pieces and replacing it with their own.

I broke her trust because she broke mine.

Why didn't I stand my ground when she said to throw away my drawings? Funny question, if I did, she'd die.

Anxiety was the foundation, her grandmother was fueling her with it, my drawings triggered some attacks, it got worse when I said I needed some space. It gave her the idea that I might be cheating on her.

That single fear consumed her.

Her heart would hurt, she'd faint. And I'd be there, caressing her head, hoping she'd wake up.

The sight reminded me of my mother in her dying hour, because, at that time, I couldn't do anything to stop it from happening.

I minimized the fights, calmed her when she had attacks and occasionally pushed her to conquer her own demons.

Degrading her, leaving her behind, controlling her anger and using it against her.

I'd twist her smile and allow her fury to run wild. Once calmed I'd escort her home and end the night with a diabolical grin.

My methods were evil, I know, I am a villain after all.

-The cold, outside-

She persisted in seeing me.

Her attitude was unrealistic, I could easily anticipate her, still turning her days into hell.

Because of that, the distance between us could not be measured anymore.

Pain was the only thing present.

In was nearing the end of 2015, we were as cold as December.
Every part of me was numb, I felt like a soulless being.

Her genuine smile faded, life and expectations made it worse, we were going nowhere.

I'd escort her home then walk the shallow streets with a burden on my shoulders.

But... This was not how I wanted it to end. I didn't want it to end like this.

So, as I walked back home, I started planning something...

Still haven't left yet I see? Then follow me...

We've heard different stories with tragic and happy endings, so let's find out how they define theirs.