Metanoia: SHOW-OFF BATTLE

9.

Bridge

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"Goodbye."

I watched with my face stained with continuously falling tears as the door slammed shut, followed by a deafening silence that was soon cut off with the sound of breaking glass.

My gaze darted towards the other side of the cramped room where a man on his 50s, of average height and with black disheveled hair, slowly slid down to the floor with his back leaned on the wall. He let out a frustrated sigh before his eyes met mine.

"Sweetheart... I’m sorry." Daddy weakly uttered, smiling sadly as tears silently fell from his eyes.

I wanted to hug him, comfort him and cry with him. But all I did was watch, being aware that it was fault that Mommy left us. Instead of hugging him, I turned my back and started to walk away. I gave him coldness rather than comfort, and let him cry by himself.

Passing by a body sized mirror that stood near the stairs, I frowned at my own reflection seeing how much I looked like my mother. A memory of her fixing my hair in front of this same piece of glass flashed in my mind, followed by the feeling of my heart being squeezed into a million pieces.

I clutched on my chest, hoping it would at least help ease the pain, but it was useless. The overwhelming negative emotions slowly clouded my mind as tears blurred my vision.

My father looked at me from the mirror, and once again, our gazes locked. His eyes showed regret, remorse, and... despair. But instead of giving him the comfort that he needed, I just wiped my tears away and ran upstairs, locking myself in my room.

Photographs of me and my parents displayed on the beige walls of my lonely space, making me remember more memories I shared everyday with them. The aching feeling in my chest never stopped, but I chose to ignore it as I eyed the largest portrait hanged on my wall.

I stared at the frame that contained a candid photo of us three that was taken 10 years ago on my 7th birthday. Mommy and daddy held each of my hands as we walked around the park.

Looking at it made me realize how I resembled a bridge, with my parents being posts from cliffs of two different mountains that I held together, and also were the reason I wasn’t lost on the ground between the mountains.

But then, problems cut me off from my mother, and I cut myself off from Daddy.

And so I fell.

With none of their hands holding me anymore, I became lost in the pit between the mountains called despair.

I shook the thoughts off my head as a thick lump stayed in my throat while I hopelessly wiped the endless tears streaming down my face.

But as I glanced at the picture again, all I could see was that same image.

Of me being a broken bridge lost in despair.