Submission

CHAPTER : 34

The tiny freckles on my wall never bothered me. I felt that they belonged there. Like a part of a puzzle that doesn't belong there but it still somehow fits in. It always served as a sweet distraction, whenever I and my solitude mind wanted to stay alone. Sometimes distracting the mind helps you in the long run. I wished I had one now.

The shiny, fresh painted wall stared back at me, sporting none of those tiny freckles, I truly felt for. The absence of these tiny things made me realize my perilously wicked fate and this distorted situation. The huge lump of dread smothered down my neck as I stood frozen, under a death hold. My body was drugged into a deep limbo with my mindset lose like the monster from its cage. The warm breath fanning my neck didn't help defrost the thick layer of dismay and panic off of me, rather it made me recognize my long-forgotten past.

They say that time heals everything but what about scars? They never get away. They never dissolve and neither do the memories.

****

A little kid

With a set of dreams

Got her heart broken

Never to be awakened up again.

****

"Poor little Rose, always depressed, always crying and always the victim."

His pointed finger dragged on my shoulder blades. The agonizing silence that followed, wrenched my mind with a different possibility of mishaps. Maybe he will have mercy on me and wrap those same fingers around my neck? Giving me the pleasure of sweet, sweet death?

"I always thought that your submissive little soul would never be able to fight back but the incidents from yesterday surely proved me wrong. That filthy girl is surely rubbing off on you."

It hurt, it hurt me to just stand there and do nothing while his words drew agonizingly slow circles. The close proximity we were sharing, rotted my soul, but I was too scared to even breathe. His breath fanned my ear as he came impossibly closer and pressed his chest to my back.

"Maybe we should get rid of her?"

I have never moved so fast in my life. Heck, I don't even think that I would have shifted if those treacherous words would not have escaped from his mouth. I turned towards him and looked him in the eye. Those heartless eyes which have tortured me for so long and broke me again and again.

"Don't even dare to think about her."

The words that broke out of my clenched jaw, ignited the devil. With the clawing look in his dull brown eyes, he stormed towards me and punched me on my face. The lamp crashed and started flickering, creating odd shapes and shadows on his already angry face. My clumsy body landed on the floor and withered under his wrathful glare.

"Don't forget your place, little sister. It's right down there!"

A shoot of spittle was thrown on me after which the thunderous footsteps exited through the door while slamming it shut.

****

Starved

Thirsty

Depressed

Whimpers

Tears

*****

I don't know how long I've been laying there but it seemed like an eternity after which, my mind tried to break through the shock. I never thought I would see him after I left the place one calls home. All these years I thought I saved myself from the devil's hell but I forgot that my life itself was its lair. The only escape I have is through death itself.

The broken bedside lamp was still working but the flickers didn't aid me and my vision. At some point, I decided to sit up but my body was in disarray while my mind was a disaster. My eyes were fixed on that null void where everything blurs out and you get dissolved into nothingness. The untameable wildness of my hair was scattered all over like the rest of the pieces of my broken heart. The tiny shards of glass from the broken lamp looked very inviting as my fingers closed itself around one if those same lifeless shards.

I know it's cruel to think if someone could take my place and for a moment I started wishing the same but then a drop of my sadness trickled down my eyes and woke me up from my selfish reverie.

The father of three children, working day and night, taking two shifts so that he can keep his family happy while he himself is starving.

The tears in the little girl's eyes, who is sitting in the corner of a gloomy funeral, the funeral of her patents who died in an accident, realizing she won't ever see her parents smiling at her.

The fear in the eyes of the old man who is waiting outside the surgery room, waiting for his wife to make it out of death's clutches.

The sad smile on the mother's face when she saw her naive and young little kids smiling at her innocently who were oblivious of the fact that their mother is suffering from cancer and won't possibly make it through to kiss them every night during bedtime.

The wedding ring that sat heavy on the wife's hand as she continues to grieve for her husband who died five years ago.

The teenager laying on the hospital bed, induced in a coma, while her friends and grandparents fear for her and grieve for her family who didn't make it through.

Another drop of tear painfully slithered out of my eyes and smeared my face with my misery. The shard of glass which was previously clutched in my hand laid on the other side of the room. I tried to hide with my hands by covering my face but my smothered wails were still there, emitting my emotions out of me.

I have never been so ashamed of me before.

There are people out there who have suffered so much more than me, and they would gladly take any opportunity at survival so that they can spend a little time with their loved ones. Loved ones like Liza.

Here I am, wishing I was dead when there are people out there who are ready to do anything to stay alive. To out weight death and see the daylight every day. To stay with their loved ones and make memories because life is too short to be wasted.

I wiped away my tears and tried to control my ragged breaths when my eyes spotted the discarded shard of glass.

I have never been so ashamed of myself before.