The word escapes me, because I have a hole in my side or because I can't contain them-- I don't know-- but it escapes me. Like water leaking through paper, it soaks and settles into the air, looming to the ears.
"W...why?"
She looks at me, her eyes so glassed over she looked like a porcelain doll, ready to crack at any given moment. She said something, but I couldn't hear over the ringing in my ears. So loud, so present. She fell the ground beside me, picking up my chin and making me look her in the eyes.
"You're my daughter," she says, and I hear it loud and clear. "You're my daughter," she repeats, a tear jumping and trailing down her cheek to the ground. "And I'm your mother..."
So why? I wonder, staring at her petrified. Why?
The ringing in my ears grow louder, my heads throbbing now, and I can't even feel my sides let alone move my hand to touch my mother's face.
"I- I couldn't let you bare the burden..." the woman in front of me sobbed; my mother. She sobbed like a babe crying for comfort-- and the lack of therefore.
As I closed my eyes, tired of the continuous stress of keeping them open, I hear the fainting wails of my protector, my guardian, my mother. And I her daughter. I feel the blood on my cheek-- my own blood-- as my head rests on the cold cement. All I hear is a quiet "Forgive me," before I'm taken away from this reality-- into something I can't quite explain.
But I see her. I see my mother, crouched over my body, hovered and crying. The gun was thrown to the side, and the soldiers picked her up and hauled her into the back of the van. I heard her crying, I heard it like a haunting call, over and over.
My hand reaches for my side... and it suddenly makes sense.
"I- I couldn't let you bare the burden..." she had said. And watching her be taken away and crying over my lifeless body, still damned to the world we were born in, I get it. I understand it now.
My cheeks feel cold and wet, and my eyes swollen and heavy. "I'm sorry..." I whisper, but it's merely a breeze to her. To my mother. Just a breeze in a cold world, nothing more.
701Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRuP2NZVzfS
I won't let you die and bare the burden of loss on your shoulders. That's too much to ask of an innocent girl.
-Based off a real conversation with my mother.
May you be recognized.
701Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlHZo7apOKU
701Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzma7QRFFR5
