At thirteen,
She has already been through emotions most kids her age had never even felt.
She had watched as her mother slowly but surely fall down that endless hole of grief,
And watched as her father,
Grew distant,
Until he wasn't even the man who raised her anymore,
He was just a shell of himself,
Just as her mother was to.
She knew she tried to stay strong, But the late night alcohol showed her cracks,
The splinters and chips,
The broken pieces littering the house with so many memories.
They say time will dull the pain,
Sure for some this might have been true,
But in our case it feels like they had lied.
Because can pain be "cured" if it's buried so deep within that you can't even glimpse it?
YOU ARE READING
Breakage
Short StoryBreakage: ˈbreɪkɪdʒ/ noun the action of breaking something, or the fact of being broken. - P.s. I know the title and the description is probably sh*tty but PLEASE!! Don't be deterred by it... 😅😣😖
