The Fridge

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I wake up with a headache. Last night was a total blur. My throat is dry and my pyjama pants had risen up my shins into pantaloons. Sophisticated.

Ears ringing and head foggy, I stumble to the staircase, firmly grabbing the cold bannister with my sweaty palms.

"Muuuuum, I'm ready for breakfast!!!!"

There was no response. Although my mother could be cruel and sometimes cold towards me, the smell of warm pastries set out on the table for me and my perfect brother made me forget all my hurt and suffering and instead transcended me into the hypothetical arms of my mother.

What am I saying, my mother doesn't show me any affection, only snotty little Peter could ever be graced with such a privilege.

I call out again, "Hello!!!!! Anybody up." I found it especially unusual, my dad was always up bright and early. 5 o clock sharp every morning for his jog, expect on Sundays, he would sleep in late and I used to jump on his bed to grab his attention, how different it is now.

That's when it struck me, the humbling silence again reminded me that I had been left behind in solitude. The note. The note on the fridge.

The memories from the previous night came flooding back to me, as if the walls of a great dam had been forced down, crumbling upon itself, leaving nothing but rubble behind as a river of emotions rushes through. That's what it felt like to me.

My family. Gone. But why?

There it stands in all its glory, that darned fridge. The fridge that had been there for as long as I can remember. One white and shiny, ready to preserve and protect what relied on it, is now aged and turning yellow. Dusty magnets that hold fond memories covering that old surface. It looks like we need a new fridge.

Maybe that's what Mum and Dad thought when they disappeared. Maybe they left for a new son. I once relied on them, they used to protect me. And now they are done, ready to move on it seems.

All sorts of distressing thoughts are racing through my mind, I have to remind myself to be strong.

I look again at the Fridge, my eyes only able to focus on what had been left on the door.

I read the note over and over again. Trying to find hints at what could have happened. What went wrong. Why they left. Where they could be.

The note read,

            "My Henry, me and your father have thought about this and we have decided this is the best plan of action to take, we know what you are, we have been aware for some time now. As your mother, I should love you unconditionally, and don't worry my boy I am doing this out of love. Me and your father have gone to get help, help for you my darling. We have taken Peter with us. It can't be safe to leave him here with you. We know you are sick, we know you are one of those. The devil has gotten to you, but we won't let him take you. I will see you soon Henry. Stay out of trouble for me."

I find my self over analysing this note. My heart sinks every time I read it. How could they have found out.

Why did I have to be born this way. Why?

I sit, kneeling on the old kitchen table chair, my mind stuck in a fixation of my parents. I'm scared of what will happen. Will they send me away for what I am, I don't want that. If that happens then I may never see him again. And I couldn't imagine a life without him.

Suddenly the door knocks.....

To be continued :)

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⏰ Last updated: Apr 02, 2023 ⏰

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