i didn't cry.
no, not a single tear.
maybe because it had been years since i did,
or maybe because i didn't want to believe that my superhero did fall this time.
i didn't want to succumb to the fact that you won't assure me that it doesn't hurt.
i put my hand into yours, wishing you would open your eyes. just for a moment. so that i could tell you how sorry i was.
but you didn't.
after what seemed like forever of sitting there with you, my clothes slowly turning red,
i didn't realize as two ambulances arrived and picked you up.
then me.
and drove us to the hospital.
after two hours of staring at the emergency room door, after two hours of coming to accept the truth, i sat there, and cried.
the doctor said he was sorry for what happened, but there was nothing he could do.
dead before arrival.
too much blood loss. he said.
but i knew the real cause: too much love for me.
there in the waiting room, i flashed my phone on.
with bile in my mouth, blood on my hands, and guilt on my shoulders,
i listened to the five voice mails.
YOU ARE READING
broken crayons
Short Storystatus: completed. "running, running, running, screaming. tripping, falling, hurting, bleeding." a daughter's second chance at love. #itsnotaphase PUBLISHED NOW. AVAILABLE ON AMAZON AND FLIPKART ORDER NOW.