"I NEVER WANTED ANY OF THIS, I JUST WANTED TO GO HOME.."
"I KNOW, BUT NOW YOU HAVE A CHOICE TO MAKE.."
"I DON'T WANT TO CHOOSE..I LOSE BOTH WAYS.."
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frag·ile
/ˈfrajəl,ˈfraˌjīl/
adjective
1. easily broken or damaged.
"Before there was a dan...
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"FELT MORE FRAGILE THAN BEFORE..."
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Walking down the dim hallway, I could hear the music blasting from the room at the very end. It was scary. Quiet. Lonely. I⎯I didn't want to go to the door, but something told me that I needed to. Walking down the hallway, my mind drifts to my Mom, was she waiting for me? She had to be. She was. Fidgeting with my hands, I swallowed down the fear that was building as I stared at the towering door. Letting go of my hands, I flatten down my skirt, eyes trained on the big wooden door.
"You got this. Don't be scared." I whisper.
Reaching out for the door, it felt like the world around me melted away into pitch black. It was just me and the door. Gripping onto the doorknob, I take a deep breath, I can do this. I can do this. I can do it. Turning the handle, the door creaks open, revealing the living room of my house. Home. I was home. Feeling my bottom lip tremble, my only focus was finding my Mom. I needed her.
"Mommy?" I call, stepping inside.
Turning around in a slow circle, the house looked the same, nothing out of place. Papa's chair was still facing the fireplace. The old record player was still on the windowsill. Everything was the same. Like I never left. I wish that I never left. Walking deeper into the living room, I scan the open bedroom door for her. Was she still here? Was she outside in the fields? Was she in town?
"Mama?" I call again, peaking into the kitchen.
Stepping on a creaky floorboard, the noise pulls the attention of someone, making whoever it was clatter dishes together. Standing in front of the sink, their back was towards me, it was Mom. I didn't need to see her face to know that it was her. It was my Mama. Feeling my bottom lip tremble at the sight of her familiar lavender skirt, a part of me wanted to fall to the ground and sob.
"Athena?" She calls, turning around.
"Mama!" I yell, running to her.
Staring at me in shock, I ran into her, wrapping my arms and legs around her. I won't let her go. I won't let her go. Never again. Burrowing my head into her shoulder, I let out a small sob as she petted my head. I missed her so much. Placing a gentle kiss on my forehead, I grip onto her skirt, the smell of warm vanilla filling my senses. I missed her.
Sniffling as she hums a familiar tune, a sudden sharp pain fills my stomach making me gasp. It was sharp and familiar. I knew this pain. I've experienced it before. Shakily looking down at my stomach, I found a kitchen knife sticking out of my lower abdomen. She...She stabbed me.
"You're not my daughter." She sneers, glaring at me.
"No. No. No." I whisper, shaking my head.
This can't be real. This is all just a bad dream. It's a bad dream. Looking down at my stomach, the blood was still there, still very very much real. The gash in my stomach was real. Falling backwards, the knife is pulled out, leaving a trail of warm blood down my thighs.
