Will the Heart, break? It's not a lead tip of the pencil, right?
Or could it shatter? Is it a glass piece to shatter?
Rip out of its hood, perhaps? Like a glucose bottle?
Maybe, squeezed out? A ketchup?
Maybe, questions about heart being tortured would seem funny when anything and everything was happening to the mind, not the heart.
That was what I thought, until something really came, tumbling down my life, pushing me into regret. It was a normal day when I started to the school. I did my hair, put on my uniform and took my back pack with me, running down the stairs, straight to the door.
My dad stood outside the door, crossing his arms over his chest, to catch me from escaping breakfast.
I groaned, "Please dad. Only today. I swear I'll eat from tomorrow. I love you so much," I tried to convince him, to let me go.
He wouldn't budge but stood like a rock, concealing me from my path. Shaking his head in negative, he took my hands and hustled me in to the house.
School bus honked down the lane. Seeing my path cleared off, without any obstruction, I shoved my dad's hands and made a run for it.
Escaping amused me. While I was running down the small pavement that connected my house with the road, I had an urge to look over my shoulders. Stopping near the bordering fence that contained the flowerbeds and small ornamental bushes, I turned around making funny faces by sticking out my tongue, at my glaring dad. I laughed hard before clearing out the area.
It felt good to tease my dad and ditch my breakfast, like I'd achieved something great. Grinning wide, I waved at my friends and quickly got into the bus. Few minutes in the bus, my heart pounded against my chest and I felt light headed, as my mind pondered on something I didn't understand.
It was such time when you know something went really wrong and your heart beat rises but you couldn't put your finger on what might have happened, so suddenly.
Dwelling in the unknown melancholy that hit me, abruptly without prior warning, I reached my class. Inquiry about my dump mood went on, till the last of my friends finished up with her concern on me. Even after, questioning for quite a while, and cheering for sometime, my mood wouldn't lift up.
That was when the office staff called me, standing at the door. Her face seemed to be in distraught, deep frown coating her forehead. What's with me and sadness today? I asked myself, before walking towards her to know what she needed.
She clasped my hand in her's firmly and took me towards the office. You're in trouble! my mind stated, but without any adrenaline rush in my veins, the warning rang like, you're getting chocolates.
"You've got a phone call and you need to go home right now. We'll arrange the school van to take you back home," she went on, but my mind skipped her words.
I'd received such call once before and they had arranged a school van to take me home, then. But that was years ago, when I was merely three year old. That was not the point to be considered. When the same staff said the same words before, my mother had died and I was sent home to meet with my house full of guests, sitting around my mother's dead body. I was so little to know what happened then.
Never did I realize it was my mother who had left me once and for all. I couldn't even remember crying at my mother's funeral. When I grew up, my dad was always there for me, guiding me in every step. I never really realized the absence of my mother, in my dad's care.
The office staff ushered me into the van and I vaguely remembered, it sped on the road towards my house. Not my dad, I prayed and prayed, throughout the ten minutes that took me to reach my house.
The pavement which I crossed, less than an hour ago, was crowded which answered my inner turmoil. That was when my heart broke, shattered to pieces, crumbled and ripped off, all at the same time.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Akiprabagar (26/03)