La herida

chapter cinco

Even though this time of their life was so cruel, it had major benefits for their friendship and their bond with each other. You know that people are your friends if you walk through hell together, holding hands and trying to take care of each other. All in all, it were 3 years, not in one period, in pieces. And still no answers, nothing. You don't have to wonder, when it catches your psyche at some point when he gets angry, so furious that he thinks he could destroy this despicable world, with all those dweebs on it, with his father on it, this coward, who could never show up, let his mother alone and lastly also him and his sister. They had to stick together or else things would have come different.

Monday 20th February 1995

It was the first day when I had to go to the big building, which I'm not describing in detail on purpose because it's not more than a big building for me. I stood in a queue with Mama, and Layla was in the car. She cried way too much to get inside with us. I looked up at Mama, in her dark brown eyes, I looked at her deep black hair, and I smelled her scent, it soothed me. Mama talked to a woman with a big nose and a severe chignon. I wasn't sure why we were in this place, but I just knew it wasn't for a good reason, nobody seemed lucky here.

"Why are you wearing sunglasses in Winter?", asked a dark blonde girl with two high ponytails. She had a lollipop inside of her mouth. And I was honestly glad that this weird open girl started to talk to me back then, or else I think I would have started crying too.

"It's my dads, or at least I guess that"

I was proud of those sunglasses, even though they were way too big for me back then. My mother gave them to me and said they were the old ones from my father.

"I also want a lollipop"

"You will get one after the chat, I'm already done näh-näh"

The cheeky girl pulled out her tongue and I feld my arms.

"Come on Dylan", my mom took my hand again and led me into a room I could have later called my "room", but I didn't and never will.

Wednesday 10th May 1995

In this room, there stood loft beds. Mom told us we should wait it was the same spot as I gazed in this room the last time I was there, but this time I was going to see the room more often. Then she took Layla off of her arm and looked at both of us like it was the last time. I could guess we had to stay here, but Layla was 4 at this time, so it probably was even more confusing for her.

"Listen, kids", she started to sob, "You have to stay here for a bit until Mommy finds a solution, okay? It's all right in here and there are many other kids, you'll find many friends."

Then she paused out of a sudden and a few seconds later I realized a big man stood behind her and beckoned Mom. 

"Please, just one more minute, I-"

He took her forcibly on her arm. 

"I promise I will get you back"

She screamed the last words in tears because the man had already taken her to the entrance. And I regret nothing more in my life, than not doing something. I mean I know I was five and it would probably not change anything, but maybe it would have, or at least I wouldn't feel so weak and guilty for her getting pushed outside of that door. 

And there we stood, me and my sister, with her dark brown teddy bear, all alone in this room. Layla would have started crying even worse if there wasn't that familiar voice, or at least for me it was familiar. Again with her lollipop, she stood behind us.

"We're roommates now!"

, she said barely whispering. 

"Zoe?"

"Hey, is that your sister, you told me about?"

I nodded and introduced her, Layla still with a blank stare and a tear rolling down her cheek. She looked so desolate, the big baby eyes that glared full of tears and her mouth still open from the shock. 

"Are we friends now?"

I giggled, the last power I could bring up, and agreed eagerly.

All in all, I've been there 3 years, not in one timeline, which is even worse. I got home, saw Mom again, and went to my school there, but then I was gone again and I missed being home so badly. I missed it that Mama made my breakfast, not them stupid canteen lady, I missed doing what I wanted and not being watched all the time. I mean they were friendly, but kindness isn't what you need in those young years, you need your parents. Maybe that's why something is wrong with me now, I didn't have my parents. That dark-blond girl, who later became one of my closest friends, was there for straight 13 years, She should have been there until now actually, but I don't know if she still goes there or if she has a foster family now. She had many and she always told us she would extra behave like a daredevil so she could go back. 

That building was still better than some random people trying to be your parents, because they feel bad for the poor little kids, or because they can't get a child or whatever. Many kids there wished to be in a family, but the 3 of us never did. We were our family, we had everything we needed. Our needs became smaller from time to time until we all said we didn't need our parents anymore. Layla rejects that today, I don't. And the last time I saw my friend, she didn't either. She is like a sister to me, a big one, even if she is only 8 months older. And Mama is so thankful for her too, that we went through that together. Mama always tried her best, it wasn't her fault that we had to go there, it was his fault. I'm convinced of that, although Mama never told me anything about that. But there was this certain day.

Wednesday 22nd March 2006

I don't know why it was this day, but my anger got too big to linger being silent. I wanted to know everything. What happened and why isn't he here, why isn't my father here? I asked this question a few times in my childhood, but my mom never said something helpful. One time I watched cartoons on our TV and the dad from the family helped the kids to build a sandcastle, so I asked her. And she looked at me like it wouldn't be clear that I would seriously ask this question one day.

"Honey, I will tell you everything when you're older"

She acted calm, but I could feel the riot in her body. 

And then with my 16 years, it was over, I wanted to know it, with 16 you are old enough to know that, aren't you? What kind of mother would keep this important thing a secret from their kids? It's an obligation to tell this to us. 

I got home from school, already furious because in class there was this topic about what our parents do and when I couldn't answer my dad's side they laughed, even my teacher did, he fucking laughed about that. He probably thought it was a joke, it was supposed to be a joke, but it wasn't. 

And then I ran to Mama aggressively and she didn't answer again, only an "Oh Dylan...." and then I yelled at her, what kind of mother she is, not telling her kids anything and lying and being that way. I was evil, pure evil. Layla stood behind me, not moving or breathing. She always acted like she didn't want to know something about it, but I knew she did, she just didn't want to argue with Mom. She is the complete opposite of me, she always stays calm, and I'm very impulsive.

"You don't know and you will never know anything from your father, live with that Dylan"

Those were the words, the words that made my anger rise even more. My anger was this big that I felt like my head exploded.The words from my mother banging in my head. And my hand moved quicker before I could move my brain cells.

We didn't talk for 2 weeks, at all. With time it settled again, I said sorry, I was, but it will never be the same. Not just because I disappointed my mama, but also because I truly will never know more about him and that makes it even worse.