Love Kills (On Hold)

Chapter 2

He awakes with a loud exchange of angry voices. He was five years old.

The only child of an accomplished doctor and a simple housewife. Their life was good, he has everything he needs, his mother takes care of them , she is selfless and kind. He adores her.

He squeezed his eyes shot and covered his ears with his two hands. These exchange of angry voices between his parents are getting more frequent. It started when his father got assigned in Manila, they live in Laguna and the commute would be too much especially for a doctor like him. He is on call so he rents an apartment in the city and comes home every weekend or whenever he has his day off.

But recently he hasn’t gotten home as planned. His mother started asking questions and he avoids her, getting defensive.

He knows his mother is getting insecure each time he doesn’t come home, she is becoming more and more suspicious, fearful of the possibility he is seeing someone else.

At a young age of five, he is mature for his age- he sympathizes with his Mother. His father was never there for him, he is always working – that was his excuse. “It is for you and your mother, that’s why I’m working hard.”

He heard it a lot of times that he is sick of hearing it again and again.

He doesn’t ask for reasons, he wasn’t questioning him.

His silent resolve of trying to fall back to sleep isn’t working tonight – he sat up and listened.

There was no more loud voices heard, but he heard the front door closing, a car starting and driving away and a muffled cries in her parent’s bedroom.

He stood up, and on his tippy toes tried to open the door to see his mother. Ask her how she is, be with her in sympathy .

As he grows nearer, he heard a sudden shriek and guttural sound, almost moaning from being hurt.

He moved his legs quickly and pushed open his parent’s door – it was dark so he can’t really see clearly. He adjusts his eyes and see a hanging almost lifeless body of his mother. He switches the light on to adjust his eyes and see if he was too late- his trembling hands finally reached the switch and flicked it on.

His mother’s almost bulging eyes looking straight at him, a rope tightly wrapped around her neck, her legs dangling , a small stool she used to climb up and hang herself off the exposed beam of the room. She seem to say something, but he can’t make out what she is saying– he tried to lip-read and she seem to be saying sorry. His tears streaming off his face, he puts the stool up and wrapped his small arms around his mother’s dangling legs. It was still warm-yet her life slipping away.

He sobbed silently and knew it was too late. He just held his mother ‘s legs embracing them as if that will bring her life back.

He continues to sob silently, his eyes full of hatred, his thoughts blaming his father and whoever he is with.

He continues to cry until he sees that there was blood dripping on his arms…he started shouting letting go of his mother’s legs.

He keeps shouting kicking and shouting ….

He sat up panting…he was dreaming of it again.

That terrible night.