𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬

fourteen

“But I don't really care how bad it hurts.”
- Tate McRae

Reese
06 March 2017 - New York City

Right now, I was seated in a park, alone, spending some quality time all by myself. I was feeling very low today and despite wanting someone to comfort me, I didn't call anyone because I didn't my sadness to break someone else's happiness. I intentionally left my phone at home so that I could really relax. I laid down on the blanket I brought. The scenery in front of me was majestic - the sun was rising and several birds were roaming around in the sky. I woke up at 4 a.m today so that I could get ready early enough to come here.

I was dressed in a pair of Grey sweatpants, a tank top and one of my dad's hoodies. The cliché men cologne aroma filled my nostrils as I clutched it against my chest. Moments like these made me miss my father. I missed the stories he'd tell me at night, the old dad jokes he's often tell Kate and I and mostly, the paternal love that I'd never thought I'd lose one day.

A lonely tear escaped my eyes as I recalled some memories.

"You can do it-you're powerful like Power Puff!" he'd say when I would be disappointed at school by my results and those simple words would heal me.

"See, you did it. I always knew you were a brilliant student!Also, I put my trust in you because I believe in you baby!" he said in ecstasy the day I came back home with my result slip in hand. That day was the last day we talked because the same night, he fell unconscious and was urgently admitted to the hospital. I never understood why he'd cough excessively, I didn't even understand why his hair wouldn't grow anymore and he used to say that it was the 'trendy baldy' style in vogue and I would believe him.

I was so stupid.

Back then, my mother was so 'cool' according to my school friends. I still remember the day she related about how she met my dad to Kate and I - they met in high school. My dad was the jock and she hated him but their paths collided once again in high school and this time, mom fell for him because “he was a mature man” she had said. We were such a happy little family, also going out on Sundays, always together but when he left us, it tore apart with mom being demi- heartless and Kate being... Kate but they both weren't too blamed neither were they the only ones.

I also changed.

I turned into an alcoholic at a young age and had a heartbreak some years later. My father always appreciated River but then, I thank God that he wasn't there after River broke me into pieces. He'd kill him.

"Can I sit here?" a masculine voice asked and without turning back, I hummed in response. When I finally decided to turn around so as not to make myself look arrogant, I got time to scrutinize his appearance.

He had a golden tan, had golden locks and piercing grey eyes. He was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I flashed him a smile and wiped the stained tears.

"It's the first time I catch you here," he muttered, his head pressed against his arms.

"Yes...That's true." I chuckled. I wasn't really an expert on how to keep a conversation going. I breathed deeply as I stared at the pinkish color slowly melting into the thick blue tint.

"Nothing feels better than sharing your problems with a stranger," he quoted his fingers making invisible quotations in the air.