Misty Memory

By Dhanishta Singh S3EN


It’s an early morning. The birds are talking, and the bright sunrise is shining on my face. I squeeze my eyes shut as my body surges the morning energy all the way to my toes. The energy does not help. I get up and try my best to rush. Rush to get ready for school. It’s always a rush. After brushing my teeth, taking a shower, I finally go pick out my clothes. I look through everything and finally I find something presentable to wear. I go downstairs and start making toast for breakfast.

I move my head up. Through the white, almost transparent, curtains, I see my mother sitting on the couch reading some article like usual, it’s a daily habit she learned at my age from her father. Honestly, she loves reading and if she wasn’t a mother, she would have read all the books in our library. Most are just untouched and un-wrinkled, not a single fingerprint in their front page. And I will take the blame for it. I keep on staring at her even though she doesn’t do anything. She finally looks back at me, her lips form into a smile. I smile back with a wider smile. I finally walk over to her, forgetting all about my toast and just wanting to sit next to her.

“What are you up to mom?” I ask as I sink into the couch. “Oh nothing, just reading some article” she replies looking back at me, putting her hand on my head as she messes my hair up. “Oh mom!” I cry in frustration, stretching the m. “Ha-ha, you look fine”, mom said as she grinned and as I try to fix my hair. “You know you should go eat breakfast; the bus doesn’t waits for anyone”. I get off the comfortable couch, raising my arms towards the celling. “Actually, the bus waits for people crossing the street” I reply, as I walk over to abandoned toast. I hear my mom faintly saying, “You and your reality checks” as she chuckles softly. I am still shocked that she knows what a reality check even means.

Anyways, I finish eating my toast and head over to my bus, which is in walking distance. Walking towards the stop, I realise I forgot to say goodbye to my mom. I always feel bad when I don’t say goodbye to others. It’s not appreciated normally. I look at the time, seeing I was surprisingly early today. I decided to rush back and say goodbye. I start to run as fast as I can with a heavy backpack and no stamina.

I finally get home, completely out of breath. I press against the cold metal circle that also works as a doorbell since my parents are old-fashioned or just really interested in antique belongings. I use the ‘doorbell’, making a loud noise on the door. No answer. I still wait for a bit, just in case. No answer. This period continues for a while, knowing I have a bus to catch. It’s a typical school day and my mom doesn’t work so early. I continue knocking when my impatience turns into frustration and then into worriment. I start to bang the door making it shake a bit. “MOM”, “MOM, WHERE ARE YOU?” “MOM, ANSWER THE DOOR!”- I start screaming as loud as I could.

Soon enough, my neighbors were startled and came towards me. “What’s wrong honey? Why are you screaming” they ask in a gentle tone with a hint of concern. “My mother, she won’t open the door” I tell them with a dry throat from all the screaming. “Oh my, should we call the police?” said the female. “Please” I beg with head down against the door. The female moves away to the male that was with her and dials the number. I still try to open, scream, whatever I could do to let her know that I am still here. I know it’s useless, but I need to know what’s wrong. Both my arms on the door with tears running down my face. I could suddenly feel drops of water on my head, it started raining. Rain is never a good sign when it comes to problems. The neighbors had gone inside and gotten umbrellas, one for me and one for them. They offer it to me, “Thank you” I tell them with no expression. I just want the police to come as soon as possible. I missed my bus.

Sooner or later, the police finally came. The police cars were still blaring the siren, the ambulance also got here. That part didn’t make sense. They stepped out of the vehicles with no emotion, but I could see a bit of tension, like as if we were going to open the door and find something horrific. They came towards me and told me to step back. I although insisted to go with them, they simply ignored me. That was annoying.

The emergency care assistant took me with them, letting me sit inside since it was now pouring. I did not like this one bit. They started to ask me questions like; ‘Where is your father?’, ‘Are you hurt?’, ‘Shouldn’t you be at school?’, etc. Honestly, I just want my mom. I don’t care about where my father is, or if I am hurt or I should be somewhere else. I just want my mom.

It has been a few minutes; more neighbors came to ‘see how I am doing’ when I know that they are just nosy and cannot mind their own business. The raindrops were hitting the floor harder, as if they were having a battle but no one was winning or losing. I could smell so many things at once at it felt overwhelming, but my mind was only focused on one thing and one thing only.

After a while, the atmosphere changed as the emergency care assistants started rushing into the house. I looked at them as they ran. They had a worried look on their face. But the worse kind of worry you can see on a person’s face. I stood up and walked over to my house. The ground covered in water as I stepped in the puddles making my jeans wetter than they already were. It all feels like slow motion. I enter the house, seeing the most painful thing I ever have seen. My mom, laying on the ground, covered in the coldest blood I have ever seen. Two police officers came towards me keeping me away from her. “THAT’S MY MOTHER, LET ME GO, SHE IS MY MOTHER” I yell at the police officers as they push me back. Soon the world turned cold as the emergency care assistants stopped doing CPR. The police weren’t pushing me, and I wasn’t yelling. I froze. I just froze. I couldn’t even blink. I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could. The ground vibrated and everyone just looked down in guilt. I ran towards my mom; her body was cold, and I couldn’t hear her breathing. I look at her lifeless eyes staring at me, wide open. This was all my fault. I didn’t even tell her that I loved her. What kind of daughter am I? I could feel my eyes stinging in pain as warm tears came out as if they were pressured. The last I remember is seeing my ceiling as it got blurry and everything turned colorless. Black but darker and scarier.

I suddenly snap out of the trance. This is third time that this has happened. “Blair, are you okay?” my therapist asks. I look at her covered in sweat and I just nod. The incident about my mother was three years ago and I still haven’t gotten over it. By far, one of the most scary and terrifying things I could ever experience. Long after her autopsy was done, we found out that she was murdered, but the killer is still on the loose. The police suspects that it could because for past reasons and stuff like that. My therapist says that this is a journey. An extremely long journey. This journey also requires me to talk a lot about my private life for some odd reason and have pills that make me feel sleepy and weird. I don’t like it one bit. She hands me another pill as our session just ended. “Here, take this” she says with a slight smirk. I take the pill in my hand, unsure why she is smirking. I put it in my mouth and swallow while drinking a glass of water. My head starts to feel dizzy. The pill normally does that but today it feels much worse. It feels like my body slowly is becoming numb. I try to stand up but instantly collapse. My last sights were the therapist standing over my numb body with a needle in her hand. The rest is a misty memory…

P.S I have a habit of trusting the wrong people. I should really learn from my mistakes…