Her solace was the tears she shed in the middle of the night, when she knew there was no one to listen to her sobs or notice her wet pillow..
He found salvation in the blood that often oozed out of his hand.
When their paths meet, will the blood be...
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I am afraid the boy saw me and I am fairly certain he was the boy who had seen me cry in the corridor yesterday.
There was something striking about his blue shoes that I can still recognize it.
He didn't see my face, I try to comfort myself, but I am not very sure. I go back home and do not care enough to leave for school. It's not like anyone cares anyway.
My caretaker would have left for work, so the house is more silent than other days.
The silence is killing me. I go back and slump on my bed, messing the tightly laid bed sheet in the process. Then, I sleep.
That's what I have been doing mostly for the past few months. The sleep sometimes makes me feel better but the nightmares are not worth the comfort.
I try to stop myself from falling asleep, but my nerves are too tired, too depressed to let my eyes stay open.
The truth is - every time I sleep, the nightmares haunt me. I am scared of them.
I try to keep them away but I have realized it's inevitable. The nightmares occupy more than half of my blunt life. They kill me more than the haunting silence, more than my memories.
Today, the nightmare is more like a tampered memory - Teddy's birth and the first time I held him. My small hands envelope him with care and love, Teddy is so tiny, so pink and so adorable, it is kind of hard to let anyone take him away from me.
When he was born, I stopped going to school for a month because I wanted to spend time with him.
I can't believe teenage changed me so much.
"Your little brother," my mom tells me and my small lips curve wider.
Suddenly, something changes. The memory is not a memory anymore. My face grows crueler and I squeeze the baby in my hands. Then, like a witch, with fuming red eyes, I throw little Teddy away.
The vision breaks and I wake up, sweating liters. My immediate reaction is to search for him, the tiny baby I just threw away, but then it clicks that it was a dream. I sigh in relief but the tears have already started to slide down.
