One Shot Stories

Taken Speech

Fifth

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Every step required energy to move; this energy needed the will to carry on. Although he desired to put this into an end, seeing his children's precious faces made him want to push through.

This evening, he's going home from his tiring work. He would drag his feet, enduring the weight on his broad shoulders. Darkness crawled the streets but there's a tiny light that still dwelled inside his poor heart.

It would be his hope.

Expecting to see bright expressions, he gladly opened their scrapped door. But from the deepest corners of his mind, he knew this would be the start of his next suffering.

"Where did you come from? It was late and your children haven't eaten yet. Our disconnection bill came. We need to pay for the house rent. Tuition fees. How do we suppose to pay them all?!"

He sat on the chair; his elbows on the table, hands on his head. He bowed down and wished to be deaf, her wife's voice was really irritating. He wouldn't complain. He knew it would be his fault in the end. But how would he solve these problems by himself?

"Why aren't you talking to me? Answer me! If you don't do anything, soon we will die here! Your children's starving!"

These words attacked him like a knife slicing his heart. It was like a poison that crawled up to his mind. This scene was like yesterday. No. It was like last week. Like last month. She always talk to him like that; she always throw those stupid problems at him.

What hurts the most was seeing his children cry. Part was because of their unsatisfied hunger, part was because of the immense tension that roamed throughout the house.

This didn't prevent his wife to continue her complaints. She never planned to stop.

"Hey! Useless! Since when you started loosing your voice? Are you tired? This is what you want so deal with it! What are you doing?!"

This was nothing. No conflicts could break down his endurance. But he couldn't focus. The voice was deafening. Something's troubling his confused mind. He was fighting with the darkness that tried to curtain his light.

He lost.

His eyes stared without seeing, his brain worked without thinking. Sweat slithered down his blank face. Where was it? Where's that knife that sliced his heart?

There it was.

Unaware of what he's doing, he buried his shaky hands inside his wife's mouth. He never intended to kill. The blade fell on the floor; he collapsed.

He heard the cry.

It was a peaceful melody.

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