Out Of Bounds

16| Old Wounds

I opened my eyes as soon as I heard a car going in the opposite direction of me honk their horn. I swerved to the right side of the road, almost hitting the oncoming traffic. I almost killed myself and the people in that car.  I couldn't do that to myself. I parked the car on the side of the road, leaving it there, I don't care if this isn't allowed, I can't drive.

It was getting dark. I don't know what time it is; I left my phone and bag in my locker. I knew I was a fifteen-minute walk away from a park I used to visit when I was younger. I still couldn't believe I was willing to sacrifice multiple lives, including mine for my petty emotions. I was stupid. I was alone and stupid. 

How cruel would I be if I became the person who hurt me the most? My father. He left without saying goodbye, he left me with a simple 'see ya later, remember daddy loves you' and all these hurtful memories of how we used to be a happy family. 

I arrived at the park; I haven't been here in ages. The old rusted play structure was replaced with a bright yellow twirly slide and a metallic fireman's pole. I used to come here every day as a child. The memories were still fresh in my mind, but looking at this park now, I felt out of place. I no longer remember it as it used to; everything old was too broken; it had to be replaced.

On the east side of the park, there was a bike trail. On the west, there was a small hiking trail towards the lake Owen brought me to. I went down the trail and stopped at a familiar spot, between a huge rock and a tree that had a heart and the letters P and U carved into it. Who these lovers were, I will never know.

The trail continued for another few hundred meters, but I cut between the rock and the 'stinky' tree, as my father used to call it to make me laugh. I pushed away from the foliage, the sharp branches and itchy pine needles scratching against my bare arms and legs. I was still in my yellow and black soccer uniform. 

"Where is it?" I asked myself aloud. It's been too long since I was here. I'm starting to forget; I don't want to forget. There was no trail to lead to me. The only thing that guided me was the fading memories of my trip to the stream with my father. 

Sometimes, people can't even rely on themselves to remember the things that were once important to them. Life and problem happen, and before you know it, other memories pile on top of that one important memory until it becomes blurry. 

My train of thought distracted me from paying attention to where I was walking causing me to trip on a bulged tree root. My hands and knee took the impact of the fall. In return, there was dirt and a few scratches. I stood up with one thing on my mind: the stream where my father took me when I last saw him.

I heard a faint sound of rushing water to my left. I followed the sound; with each step, the sound of the water crashing on the rocks grew stronger. The smell was familiar, comforting yet cold. I smelled mildew and the scent of the flowers that grew nearby the stream, honeysuckle.

Once my ears guided me safely to the location, and I felt a light spray of water hitting my shins, I sat down on a smooth rock. With my arms rested securely on my knees, I propped up my head in my hands as I gradually closed my eyes. Once again I was caught up in my memories, the most painful one. 

There was a small girl with the same brown curly hair as mine, the same sloped nose, but chubbier cheeks. Her hair was put up in pigtails held together by purple ribbons. Her eyes sparkled with happiness like she had everything she could ever want from this cruel world. In one hand she held a half-eaten dripping ice cream cone, and in the other, she held the calloused hands of a man.

Her father.

He stood proudly next to her as they watched the water going downstream. She looked eager to listen to her father's explanation of how this stream leads to the lake. How the tiny stream provided the vast lake with a small amount of water. She also looked confused. She asked herself why would something so small give everything it had to something much bigger than itself. Then she asked her father the same question.

"Sometimes people give everything they have to someone simply because they love them. That is how you should love Stella, wholeheartedly. Even if you have close to nothing, but you see the one you cherish the most suffering, you do your best to lessen their burden." The man brushed his hand on his jeans.

The little girl knew that she wanted to love like that someday and she wanted someone to love her wholeheartedly. But she knew that both her parents would fulfill her wishes. "Will you always love me, daddy?" She asked looking up at her father. 

He wiped the strawberry ice cream off the side of her lips and answered, "never will I not."

A tear hit my bare thigh. I started heaving as I began to realize that it was not the first tear that hit me. I am becoming numb to pain. I once stood here with my dad, hand in hand as I dreamed about loving someone wholeheartedly, and receiving that love. It was foolish of me to believe that I was worthy of something so pure and beautiful. 

That child was full of optimism and dreams. It started to fade away when she realized she was hard to love because her own father couldn't stay to love his own daughter after he promised he always would.

I was hard to love.

There was something wrong about me that repelled others. I wanted to be loved. I bit my lip to stop it from quivering. I caressed my arms, imagining how it felt like to be held as I comforted myself from the cold truth and hurtful memories.

a/n This is personally one of my favourite chapters that I wrote so far. I poured my own heart and emotions into this and I hope it feels raw and heart wrenching. Continue commenting, voting, following and sharing this story! Much love.