Pain. That's all that reflected back from the mirrors of the gloomy bathroom where she stood
Paperback Storyteller - Pain. That's all that reflected back from the mirrors of the gloomy bathroom where she stood
|Paperback Storyteller - Pain. That's all that reflected back from the mirrors of the gloomy bathroom where she stood|
A drop of tear flowed her high cheek bones carrying the black pigments of her mascara. She smudges it even further. Something was wrong. She could feel the warmth of theheroin rushing down her veins, however, she could still feel the pain. She closed her eyes, let the drug conquer her; make her feel euphoric, even if it lasted for a while. However, the darkest of her memories came storming down at her, the one she was trying to escape all these times.
It was the crucial moment of her life. Like always, she remembered the scrawny eight-year-old with dirty fingers, looking down at her father's bloody face as his mouth move "Little Jane, don't be scared, daddy loves you" before she saw those wrinkly blue eyes for the last time. So she sat down with her motionless father, who she imagines was not breathing by then but wasn't yet cold either. And in the time between dying and death, she sat with her father in silence.
And then through the silence and her high she caught a glimpse of herself; guilty and purposeless. She had come to feel so powerless. She thought, that the one thing she might have done- scream and shout and get someone's help or dial 911 with that bloody phone; never even occurred to her. Maybe she could've asked for an ice cream another day. Maybe someone could help him or get him to an hospital on the right time. Maybe that would've saved him. Maybe.
If he was here today, she wouldn't be lost, he would've treated her mother better than her abusive new boyfriend. They would've had the perfect family that was once there. She remembered how he taught her to tie to laces, to dribble, to learn her abcs, to smile, to give her the should purpose to her life, to make him proud. Now, no one cared. Her sheer inspiration was dead.
There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us, that everyone who wades through time eventually learns from it or falls. Just like her mother, she wanted to be saved, to be better and more refined as she stared at the empty syringe, then again, she didn't want to get off the high.
"Can I sleep with you Jane? I'm ss-scared" came a little trembling voice through ajar door. She walked out into the bright light, clutching on the the empty syringe. She saw her little sister stand there with her toes rubbing each other and hold Mr buns which once belonged to her. She remembered how happy she was when she saw her dad holding it in front of her on her 8th birthday. In those teary blue eyes of her sister, she saw innocence, she saw herself, the 10 year old Jane. Terrified and abandoned. And then she saw her sister grow into the monster she was today. In that very moment she forgives herself, just as she hopes her father will forgive her as well. She couldn't see another person to fall into the Devils feet. She loved her sister, just as her father loved her. She knew her father would've never let her destroy herself. She found her purpose, her remedy.
She felt the warmth down her spine. The warmth of love that she hasn't felt for a while as she had pushed everyone away from her. She embraced her sister falling onto her knees.
"It's okay Lilly, don't be scared, I love you, I'm right here"
The syringe slipped off her hand and rolled off the rough bottle green carpet and was never picked up again.
Pain. That's all that reflected back from the mirrors of the gloomy bathroom where she stood Reviewed by Arafat Ikram Shanto on December 13, 2016 Rating: