I could visualize him smiling saying that. I wanted to know more about my parents. More in a way Calvin didn't. I slowly walked into the kitchen. Brushing my fingers through the cabinets. I reached for the cookie jar that dusted on top of the cupboards. I haven't touched it for a long time. I thought now would be the best time. Since I slowly started making peace with who I was. I smiled, blowing the dust on its lid. Hesitantly, I managed to take the keys from the inside. I held tightly to them, bringing it close to my chest. Could hear my heart beating off my chest. Didn't know the amount of anxiety this could give me. I was ready, yet I didn't feel that ready. I slowly walked the stairs. It felt like forever taking the steps. The staircase grew longer and longer in front of me as I took a step. This was it. After years of running away, I finally gave in. I stood in front of the locked door. The keys harmoniously jingled in my shaky hands. It sounded as if they were getting more and more excited as they came closer to the lock. All I could hear was my heart beating with the sound of the keys. My head grew heavy, my vision blurring as I started sweating profusely. My hearing seemed to have an underwater-like effect to it. Why did this have to be so scary? I've been through way scarier things, but this? I swallowed as I felt my vision getting darker. Click.Everything stood where they needed to be. The rays of light that found their way in between the curtains glowed through the dark cold tones of the room. The dust particles flew around the rays of light like fireflies. The dark green silky bed sheets looked ancient with the dust glued on it, giving it a velvety appearance. I walked in, hesitantly. Nature colored room I used to run around laughing, looked dead. I pulled the neck of my t-shirt over my nose to gain some sort of coverage against the dust. Everything looked dull, gray, lifeless. I slowly brushed my hand against the framed picture that stood on the dresser where it used to be, rubbing my dust covered hand to my pants. We looked happy. Me smiling, also fearing for my life sitting on my dad's shoulders, my mom laughing, probably at the fact that I seemed scared being so high up from the ground, my dad grabbing my ankles, providing the only sense of safety he could. I forgot what they looked like. The picture seemed so foreign, I never realized I actually was forgetting what they looked like. I don't remember them being so tall. I don't remember how comfortable I was sleeping on my mother's chest. I don't remember what they smelled like. Them coming home at night from a bar and my mom giggling, her face entirely flushed, while my dad shushed her to not wake me up. All my memories seemed artificial. As if someone placed them in my head so I could function as a normal human being. I went through the drawers of the dresser. Hoping for a smell to remind me my memories were all real. The room reeked of old wood and rotting cotton from the mattress. That's when I saw it. A green sweater that my mom used to wear almost every day. She had so many clothes but she religiously wore one thing over all the others. I brought it close to my chest. I could vaguely sense her scent that was glued into the sweater. They say you never forget smells. I never did. I was immediately hit with the flashbacks of how I used to fall asleep on her chest. To her sweet voice, I couldn't recall, to her scent. Always wondered what it would be like to grow up with them. Would I end up different? Would I grow to be a better person? Could I be a normal aged student with a normal life? I blamed them for fucking me up. Blamed them for leaving me to be this way. Getting bullied because of my age by children who wouldn't be worth my time, only parent figure being my teacher, having to live alone because of one stupid death wish my dad put on his will. They made me. The way I am was all because of them. Never thought someone I looked up to would end up what I hate.
I left the room slamming the door behind me. Never thought it would be this intense of a journey. I slid down the door and started crying. The salty taste of tears filled my lips. I was never asked if I wanted to be born. It was all my parents' selfish lust that brought me to this world. I never wanted to be born. Especially, not to this life. There should have been a test, to-be parents take to determine if they're ready for a child or not. Health exam, IQ exam, proof of income, are you careful enough test. I wanted to end it. If no one asked MY opinion while conceiving me, I had the right to bring an end to it. I walked to my bathroom, barely able to stand up. Waking up drenched in blood, part of my humanity taken by a reaper my parents possibly sold me to considering Spade knows them, love of my life turning out a soul collector, confusion about my feelings towards Mara, everyone slowly dying. Right, everyone slowly dies. Why don't I make mine quicker? I stood in front of the mirror looking dead into my eyes. I took the bloody nail scissors that stood on the corner of the sink. Bringing it close to my throat I could feel my hands shaking. I knew this pain. Spade put me through this pain before. I still remember laying on the bathroom floor, writhing in pain in a bar. Even my love could hurt me. I can too. I breathed in, eyes still locked in the mirror. I felt the stinging pain, nothing compared to what Spade has done to me. Slowly dragged the scissors across enjoying every last second of my way to freedom. I smiled.
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YOU ARE READING
Spade
Mystery / ThrillerOne thing they always say, be afraid of the one with nothing to lose. Well, that's the case with Evelyn Sullivan. Haunted, full of hate, betrayed, manipulated. Can a broken mind shatter into more pieces to leave nothing behind? Or is the one good...