Hell Sweet, Kayla

18

You know those pictures that are always perfect and next thing you know, it starts to dissolve. Right at the middle where you can’t save it; just watching it melt away, helplessly.

That picture is me. Me melting out of Cole’s life. Our house. The family we want. Our dreams.

I see myself melting at a pace even I cannot save the dying me in the picture as I slowly blink my eyes open received by a blinding light causing me to wince letting out a moan.

It would have been comical like those vampire movies I indulge my spare time in who hiss whenever any comes in contact with the daylight; rather, it is excruciatingly painful.

My eyes hurts… literally.

“Hey, honey.” I hear my mom’s voice speak to me. I can smell anesthetic all around me, so strong I needed to throw up my guts. It dawns on me.

Hospital.

I wiggle my toes beneath the sheet doing the same to my fingers; all responds positively out of reflex to my utmost relief.

So, why am I lying in a hospital?

Leaning up slowly, I bite down hard as a painful groan threaten to escape suddenly overcome by harsh spasm which overtook my body.

Fuck!

Sucking a much desperate air, I raise my hand slowly to shield my eyes hearing my mum’s feet pad the floor then her voice comes through.

“You can open your eyes now, honey. It’s better.” And I do. Eagle eyes observes the private room I am in, cozy and welcoming.

A flower vase rest on the bedside table with a frame of mum and myself on a vacation when I was much younger. Beige curtains adorn the windows matching the wall.

Fluttering my long lashes till my mum’s face appears right in front of me and there comes a heavy migraine. I cry out holding both sides of my head in pains confused as to what got me here in the first place.

Blinking, I see my mum occupy the space beside my hand teary eyed as she watch me fight off the pains. She looks like she is about to break down and I hate to see her this way.

“I am fine, mum.” Forcing a tight lip smile to convince her it is no cause for alarm, failing woefully at that judging by the look on her face.

I sigh, coughing slightly.

She reaches for the bedside table picking up a cup and straw the passing the pair to me all gloomy.

As much as I want to gulp down the liquid greedily quenching parched throat, I did not have the strength to do so. Accepting the water I sip lazily till I emptied the glass cup placing the cup by my bed tilting my gaze back at my mum who watches me keenly.

Hoarse. “What happened to me, mum?”

“You had a concussion from hitting your head. Zimra called me and I had to fly back for my baby.” Her long slender fingers caress my chin soothing watching her eyes tear up again.

I blink, looking away scared that I too might tear up noticing the weary look she has on. It pained me.

Slight wrinkles can be seen on her forehead which appears whenever she is stressed out. Yet, her golden brown skin is ever radiant in a neon green pant suit and her honey-blonde sleek hair.

All my life I wish I took her tone and not my father’s. As a child, mum always says I’m beautiful in and out; that I will grow up to be a proud black woman regardless.

“You scared me. Out for two days, and, and…” She begins to choke on her words. Quickly, I pull her in for the hug that I secretly craved for right now. I sniff in tears hanging at bay.