Falling Like The Stars || UNDER HEAVY EDITION ||

One

I sort of wanted to travel worldwide and click pictures of the monuments that build my character. I craved for climbing the Eiffel Tower and inhaling the crisp air of Paris. I desired to be a popular Hollywood actress, with an extravagant Rolls Royce when I turned twenty.

Nevertheless, then I found out the new me and it all transformed into ashes.

"No one cares. I can't really be me with this freaking demerit in my body!" I shrieked, forcing the chirping melody of the birds to peter out. Rage darted through my veins, but I knew right then that that morning, I had lost my toast enchantment.

I believed too much in this world, but the world never belonged to me— The quotation from my ex-school danced in my head.

"Demerit?!" She turned at me, "What're you even talking about? This is not a demerit, Blake. I'd rather say a peculiarity." She forced an exhausted smile. My eyes struck at her nails, which still had the splintered stains of her old red nailpolish, half-bitten into a shapeless curve from concern. For a minute, I couldn't decide if I should talk back, or relish some empathy on her. Sometimes, when I stared at Mum, the picture of her past personality reflected back; the gorgeous enthusiast with the brightest smile now gave the impression of her shadow of who she was today.

"Peculiarity? Mum, let's face the reality. I'm a vanishing from the world and there's nothing that can cure me. And that's not a specialty—that's a bloody disadvantage." I howled at her, brimming with tears. I was suddenly filled with angst for letting her turn so crippled. She stared at me for some time, hesitant to speak. A pang of guilt stomped on my heart, and I was seized to clench my jaws.

It wasn't her fault that she had flinched so much. But perhaps if she had permitted the doctor to push the euthanasia syringe in me, she would have never faced this day. Or if she had fought not to sign the divorce papers, would have she been in rejoice.

Nonetheless, she had declared otherwise. And probably that was why the wrath was boiling in me.

"Blake please..." She went off trail, and the previous contemplation brushed a pale shade of grief. She was nursing me like there was a remedy for it, but perhaps, the remedy couldn't heal me in all these years. It didn't bring back Dad, it couldn't bring joy to her lips and it surely couldn't bring back a life to me.

The clouds splashed an abrupt lightening gray into it, blurring out the brace of the morning. And as the rain poured on the bare lawn, each droplet hammering its incense, my eyes adhered with it to become a stream. The fire of apologizing flickered at my toes, but the clouds thundered once more, ambushing it into cinders.

I gazed at Mum and tried to savor her tenderness, but the thunderclap had deafened the ears of my heart. I could listen to nothing but my subconscious yelling at me to leave. Stunningly, my legs pulled me up, and avoiding the consultation which Mum roared, escorted me upstairs to my room. I locked the door, and stumbled upon my bed.

The pillow drenched on the spur of the moment.

. . . 

Hunting through my hazed vision, I stared at the rutted ceiling, sobbing like the hamster our old neighbours nurtured. Loud voices growled from the outside, stirring into a muffled hum as it reached my ears. The rain felt like my own tears, dripping down the window as if calling me out. And somehow, the theory of death suddenly enthralled me towards doing it. It would be so pleasing to abandon the world for a minute and leap off that pane...