The Frozen Tear

1

The dry leaves were crushed under our feet as me and my friend, Ray walked home from school. We didn't take the bus today, because of the crowd and so, we decided to walk home. As we were walking, I peeped into the windows of the shops. Though, time passed and we walked on, none of us dared to talk. The awkward silence between us and the ice were still there, no matter how hard I tried to apologize and make it up to him.

My stomach started to churn from the guilt. He was staring at the ground solemnly as he walked by my side. I stared at his solemn walk for few seconds and started to sway, so I could bump into him to make him angry, but he just didn't care. I started to think, how can I not even be able to cheer my friend__my only friend. 

I looked at him. He was still looking depressed and...sad. I knew that he didn't want to talk about it so I never dared to ask him, what really went wrong. He took a right turn to walk to his block, while I walked straight ahead to mine. I noticed that the door was open wide. I locked it behind me. I knew my brother was there. I walked into the kitchen by habit and took the sticky note, my mum had put out on the refrigerator door this morning. I quickly read what my chores were for the evening and went upstairs.

I had to clean the living room but first, I sat down and did my school homework. My home-room teacher was a strict lady and I did not want to take any chances with her. I knew that, I won't get any time at night to do them so, better to finish them now. I heard a crash from the next room__my brother's room. I sighed and went on writing. I could only hear the subtle sound my pencil tip made, as I wrote down my essay for tomorrow. 

Soon, I went downstairs again to clean the living room and to put away all the empty beer cans resting on the floor. After cleaning the usual mess of every night, I went inside the kitchen to eat lunch. I could not eat anything during the school break. I saw that mum had brought two new packs of beer cans. I wanted to throw them away so, she could never drink when she brings her 'clients' home. 

Why should she work twice a day? We are not poor. My dad sends her enough money, even after the divorce.

I knew that she had her own depression to deal with but, I did not want to get all tangled up in it. She knew that I preferred my father to her. 

"Kat, bring me some water!"

I heard my brother's sudden scream. It did not send me flying upstairs with a glass of water thinking that something had gone terribly wrong.

I walked upstairs with a glass of water. I could smell the protruding aroma of rustiness and alcohol from a distance in the hall, as I walked towards his room. I avoided stepping on any empty syringes lying on the floor. The windows were all closed and covered with draping black sheets. I could not feel the sense of time or day inside his personal haven. I approached his bed in the middle of the room. I could see him lying upfront on his bed. He looked pale but, that's all he is now. A pale stick figure lying in the dark, day in and day out. I could see his arm bleeding and a red substance that I knew too well, seeping out from a neat straight cut. The painter, guilty for this vertical drawing, a mirror shard was lying on the bedside floor, still holding its paint.

I handed him his glass of water solemnly and walked out. He had one cut. That's  progress.

I again resumed my chores downstairs. I had to light candles everywhere in my mum's bedroom. I took the scented candles from the drawer and set them in places, ready to be lit, to fume an illusionary essence of a romantic escape. She will be working tonight though, it was only Thursday. I cared not for all the unnecessary working days, as she was starting to pick up the idea that, this was like her real job and that, this was just as important. No point in arguing against what is usual. I'm fine with it all.

I went to my room and took a phone call to Ray.