Trigger warning: Death
The door creaked as I entered our home, or it’s better to say our house. House is very different from home, we all know that. I only knew home before. Not now.
I announced even though I know that no one will care. I went directly to the kitchen. Nothing was prepared for dinner. It’s 9:00. I shrugged and opened the refrigerator. I scanned the content and get strawberry jam and some of the loaf bread. I didn’t bother to get a plate. I ate in front of the refrigerator. Letting my body feel the coldness coming from the ref.
Something like a broken glass came to my ear. And then a loud thud on the door, when I peaked, I saw my father walking fast, taking the steps of the stairs two at a time.
“You bastard! Go to hell! Burn in hell with her!!!”
My mother’s hysterical at the same time angry words followed my father.
“It’s none of your business you rotten pig!”
My father barked back at her. I’m kinda starting to get used to it they are always having fight for almost a year now I heard my mother talking about mistress and then AIDS. And other stuff that I don’t understand much. I am to graduate from high school this coming April and I have so many assignments.
Before, I do cry when they are fighting like this. But they don’t seem to care if I’m afraid or what so I started not to care about their fights too.
“Damn you! How dare you call me a rotten pig now! Get out of this house!”
My mother shouted again.
“This is my house! You cannot send me out! You get out of this house, NOW!!”
My father angrily shouted too as he stopped in the middle of the stair. A flower vase almost hit him, next is a picture frame, box… all from my mother. I closed the kitchen door and locked it. I went back to refrigerator and get more edible stuff and paraded them on the table.
My backpack which I’m still carrying landed on the floor. I opened it and fished my pen, book and notebook. Maybe tonight, kitchen is my bedroom. It’s better on with my assignment. I can still hear the shouts and crushing of things, but muffled his time.
My instinct woke me up at six am. I was able to fix my things and keep it in my bag again. I ran to open the kitchen door. Mess is everywhere but I didn’t mind. I headed to my room to take a quick bath. No sign of my mother and father. Maybe they stopped fighting, for now.
I brushed my hair, wear my clean uniform and was ready to go. I knocked at my parent’s door to tell mom or dad that I am off to school.
“Mom, I’ve got to go, I need extra money for the field trip that I am talking about last time. Mom? Dad? I’ll open the–”
It was not locked. I opened it and enter. Mess. Broken glasses. It was one of their worst fights. The bed is empty.
Maybe my dad went away but my mother will surely be here. I checked the veranda and headed for the comfort room. The shower is on. Probably she’s not taking a bath. I saw her many times sitting under the shower and just cry. She loves dad so much, I can say. Maybe, she’s crying under the shower again.
“Mom, I need some–”
I froze as I entered the comfort room. My mother is under the shower; yes she is, with her night gown on. Except that I have the feeling that she is not ok. She is not sitting; she is lying on the tiled floor. And the water raining from the shower is trying to wash the blood that is continuously flowing from her…hand?
Blood, everywhere. My scream filled the room. I shouted and called my mom again and again and again. The sight of blood is turning my stomach upside down, and her eyes are horribly looking at me my father came and was horrified too, he put me out of his way and called for the ambulance. He went beside mom.
“Jesus! She’s not breathing!”
He said and looked at me. He probably read something in my eyes that held his stare with mine. My mouth opened but there were no words. I want to tell him that he killed mom! I know he did! And Stella too, the girl they are fighting about over and over again. I felt my tears flowing before I lost my consciousness.
I did not attend our graduation day. I just stayed in my room.
Since she died. I told my father that I don’t want to study college. I didn’t enroll. Just stay in my room. He is trying to convince me but since the day that mom died, or commit suicide or murdered, I avoided him. Mom loves him so much. I know. But he just didn’t love her back. I know.
I spent most of my time alone in my room. Stella moved in to our house right after my mother’s death anniversary.
This is one of the night that I am just staring at the ceiling and feeling the thin blade in my hand. The police said that this is the one that mom used to cut her wrist. I hide it and have been talking to it ever since.
My father will come home late tonight. I heard him telling Stella that he will attend some meeting while they are kissing over breakfast. My father doesn’t care about me anymore. He finally listened to Stella’s “don’t mind your hard-headed daughter”.
I want to hate him for that. But I can’t coz mom love him, I know. He just didn’t love her back. I slipped the blade in my pocket and walked to dad and Stella’s room. I entered quietly.
“Jesus! You scared me!”
Stella gasped as she saw me sitting in their bed. She just got out from the bathroom. Her eyes squinted at me. She’s always afraid in the way that I look at her.
“What are you doing here??”
“You’re beautiful Stella.” I said to her. “Do you want me to comb your hair?”
I asked her, sounding jolly for the first time since mother died.
“No. Get out.” She answered and sat in front of the mirror.
“C’mon Stella, I want us to be friends. And I want you to be just like mom.”
I said sounding more serious and sweet. She started putting lotion in her skin.
“I have a gift for you Stella.”
“My birthday was last week.” She snob me.
“Belated, mommy… I want you to be like my mom.” She stared at me through my reflection in the mirror and took a sigh.
“Ok. What is it?” I smiled at her, wide, very wide that if only she paid a little more attention, she can see it as diabolically wide.
“Close our eyes please.”
“If this is nothing good, I will tell this to your father and I’ll make sure that he will punish you, ok?”
I ran beside the bed, and looked at her, she closed her eyes. I carefully get the baseball bat that my mom bought me before.
“It is something you will love Stella. And dad too, so close your eyes still and no peaking. In count of five.”
I walked behind her, she’s sitting. As I said the word ‘one’ I gave her head a killing blow. ‘two’ and again.
She landed screaming on the floor but I continue on counting, hitting her with my baseball bat every after my count. I reached thirty. She’s bloody and semi-unconscious. My bat is bloody too. I started to feel nausea again. Just like when I saw mom. She’s saying something, trying to stop me, begging me.
I drag her to the bathroom. Hitting her whenever I want to. I started loving the sight of flowing blood from her head. I put her under the shower and turned it on. It took all of my strength but I was able to do it. My mouth muscles voluntary smiled and I found myself laughing hard while looking at her.
She’s not moving now. The tiled floor is bloody. She’s lying on the floor. Just like mom! I laughed even harder and took the blade from my pocket, the water raining from the shower is starting to wash her blood now.
I held her wrist and cut it with the blade, very deep. A cut to kill. More blood flowed out of her.
And there she is, just like my mom
Stella used to open the door for dad. Three knocks. I opened the door. Father almost jumped.
“Angel!! Why do you have blood on your shirt??! Where is Stella.”
I looked at him the way I looked into his eyes when she found mom dead.
“She is in the bathroom. She’s not breathing now. Just like mom.”
I answered. My father’s eyes widened with horror. He ran past through me and entered the bathroom.
Too late she’s bleeding for three hours now, with her two wrists cut deep, under the shower. Just like mom. And everything went black.
Sta. Maria Integrated High School