broken crayons

turquoise

present // flashback

i reach home, the lights still turned on. i remember turning them off when i left.

because you were sleeping.
or pretending. i couldn't tell.

i go to the kitchen, wondering if i had put the sharp things away before leaving, wondering if you knew where i hid them all.

but the knives and the scissors were well hidden.
but so were you.

i start panicking, thinking of all those things i really shouldn't.

and suddenly, my mind goes back to the night in the hospital when i heard the five voice mails.

"please come back, princess."

i go to the bathroom, praying, to see you there just playing with the water.

but there's no one here.

"at least let me say good bye? i promise, no tears this time. i'll leave you with a smile... please?"

i try to push the voice away as i climb up to the roof, telling myself you'll be here. that you'll just be having another one of the attacks. that you'll just be trying to yell at the sun for being too hot.

"i'm sorry. i was wrong. you deserve to fly up high and i'm sorry i didn't realize me holding your hand was only pulling you down."

as i reach the last of the stairs, i realise how fast i've been running. i look out on the roof.

no one.

"i hope you start a new life, i really do."

she's not here.
she's not here.
she's not here.

i run down the stairs, and get out of the house. but i still haven't stopped running.

my cheeks feel wet, and my throat hurts like hell.
have i been crying? or screaming? maybe both. i don't know.

"but i just wish i could have been a part... a... a small part of your life. is that too selfish?
please don't get on the train yet. i just want to hug you goodbye. just once. i swear.
i won't ask for anything else."

running, running, running, screaming.
tripping, falling, hurting, bleeding.

but i don't care. i just don't care. i need to find my last chance. i need to find you.

"but even if you don't want to come, i understand. just know that i'll always―"

and the sound of two cars crashing. that was the sound of crayons breaking. the sound of me realizing something. but a little too late. just a little too late. that was the sound of the sixth voicemail, that was never sent.
that was still recording when i got there.

and somehow,
it even recorded the sound of a daughter losing her brightest star in the night sky.