White Top Hats
- Reads 88
- Votes 11
- Parts 11
It started when the rain fell. As it hit the windows rhythmically, I fought my sleep. Fighting off the demons in my dreams. I hadn't realized how real that dream became. Waking up to terrified screaming. My heart racing, the lighting striking and my family begging for their lives.
I claimed myself as a coward that very same night. I hated myself. My depression became the best of me. What's worst then your family being slaughtered? Hiding in the closet from the killers. I should've helped, I should've been there for them. The pain between my chest and stomach was growing guilt.
So I started thinking smart. Looking at everyone differently. I decided to reopen their cold cases. And when I found the truth it hit me deep.
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This day wasn't an exception. I cried over and over until I could no longer, I wiped my tears and took the packages in my arms after opening the door. In the house, nothing new. They were still talking, so I had time to drop off the packages, and without even opening one, I headed to the showers, cleaned my face with water, and went to my room. This is roughly how my days as a child went. I know that it cannot be described as an ideal childhood, but it would certainly be the most beautiful period of my life. Despite family conflicts, school conflicts, loneliness, and fear, I was happy. I was happy because they were all there, happy because they always remained, despite my faults, and happy. After all, I knew that I had not yet experienced the worst. Happy because I knew, that sooner or later everything would end. So yes, I was as cowardly and useless as they all claimed and even more naive than they would have believed, but this vision that I had at that age kept me going. Although the truth was hard to accept, I was given no choice. So I accepted life as it came; I accepted myself and my truth, my weaknesses, and the fact that I had to get used to the idea that I would always be the first actor to die in films.
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