Fallen Queen

~ C H A P T E R F I V E ~

"Dad, stop," I whine and plead, as the pain condenses into a deluge of rain in my eyes. The long accumulated sadness and tears flow freer, my soul screams harder- I can't hold it together. I'm trying to find my anchor, yet the storm doesn't stop. Dad doesn't look at me, he's just storming out angrily.

"Dad," I whisper, "Please, Dad, look at me," I whine, as he'd look at me, and as if my whining would matter. He doesn't anyway. I didn't expect him to. Or was I?

Liar, you were.

Yes, I did lie to myself. I hoped he'd look at me, I WANTED HIM TO FEEL SOMETHING. But he doesn't. I tug on his coat harder, gripping it as tight as I can. I hope he'll wait, I hope that there'll be a slight halt, but he doesn't halt. He spins around, as if my hold wasn't hard to let go of. I hope he'll bend down and reassure me that everything's gonna be alright soon but he doesn't.

Nobody ever does. And I think it's better than everything.

Liar.

However hard I try to deny all of it, I'd like someone to at least, whisper sweet-nothings in my ears, make false promises so that I could bask in pretty lies, for once, at least assure myself that everything would be okay- but deep inside, I still know that nothing would ever be wrong.

"Please," I try once again, whispering, but he doesn't meet my eyes. As if I was never there, as if he can't hear me. And just like that, he doesn't spare me a single glance as he leaves. He shuts the door as loudly as he can, and I flinch hard at the sound that echoes around the house. From their bedroom, I hear the distinct sounds of my mom coughing. I crawl to their door, wiping my face and trying to steel my voice.

"Mama," I utter, and I hear the sobbing sounds halt for a moment before she resumes. I get up, standing on my knees as I rap sharply on the closed doors. My hands hurt, but I still slap the polished wood.

"Mama, open the door, I'm scared," I scream, my sobs choking my speech, yet she doesn't. I cry this time, louder, as I keep punching the doors in vain. They don't shake in the slightest, only leaving loud, unpleasant yet desperate sounds in their wake.

I sit down when I'm exhausted, gasping for breath, choking and coughing in between my tears. One must remove a bullet from a wound and one must let sadness come out, it hurts like hell because it is. But it hurts too much- I'd rather let the wounds and pain kill me from inside. I scream this time, trying again. I want mama by my side. I want water. I want my family. I want my parents to be civil. I want to be loved.

"GO AWAY, ACHELOIS!" She shouts from inside, her voice absent of emotion. "GO AWAY, ACHELOIS. GO AWAY NOW!"

I wince hard and start crying again. I don't want to be a crybaby, but it's killing me. "Ma-mama," I cry.

Suddenly, the door is no longer supporting my back and a breeze hits my clothes and touches my body through the sweat. I look up, and see mama, her face devoid of emotion and dry of the tears- the only proof of her hours-long crying being her swollen eyes and cheeks, rimmed with red. She bends down; for a second I think she's gonna hug me, but she doesn't. She tugs at my arm, making me stand.

She grips onto my wrist tightly, as she forcefully takes me up the stairs. I consider her actions with blatant disbelief, anxiety and heartache. "Mama," I whisper. Where's she taking me?

She opens the doors of my bedroom and shoves me inside. Her force is too much for my lanky body to balance- I fall on my knees.

The next thing I hear is the doors being shut loudly behind me and being locked from outside itself.

"MAMA!" I scream, crawling towards the doors as fast as I can, trying to open them, shaking the knob over and over, but it doesn't open. I hope mama waits and opens up, but the only thing I can hear before nothingness is her descending footsteps down the stairs.