Hello, before you start reading my depressing story, listen to this song–Stupid Love~ By Jason Derulo (listen to this song while reading it. Even though it does not relate to my story, It’ll make my story sound much more dramatic) 🙂
“How did you know?” I asked, not sure if I wanted the answer. I thought I had been careful. I thought she would never be able to figure out the secret that has been choking me like needles down my throat for what felt like a thousand years. My heart whammed like a wheezing engine. I grabbed onto the wooden chair in the kitchen then sat uncomfortably. My vision quickly began to fade like breath on a window. My head was a bouncing basketball. I felt overwhelmed and hopeless. Almost like the feeling you have when you’re about to commit suicide. This is the moment, I thought. This is the moment I will reveal everything I have kept in the invisible box locked deep inside my cold heart. I looked at her once more than bowed my head feeling culpable.
“I killed her…” I said, knowing what her reaction would be. She glared straight down on me. I could see the warm tears watering in her eyes. I drowned in a sea of grief. Of course, she would be furious, I thought. Her father killed her own mother.
“ I know you would never forgive me but please, just let me expla-” I felt sudden pain race through me, like the feeling when you get stabbed suddenly. My face turned blood red… She slapped me.
“How could you do this to your family. Who are you? Because you are definitely not my father” She sobbed, frozen with her hand still hanging in the air after slapping me.
I wasn’t able to defend myself. She was right. I ruined everything I had built in just a matter of seconds. She whipped her uncontrollable tears with her sleeves then swiftly ran back to her room. I could hear her whimper from across the hall. I felt the tears welling up meanwhile, a lump in my throat. Even when it got down to the plain truth, I lied. I never killed her. I was protecting her when she was about to commit suicide. I was holding onto the pistol she was holding to her head. I freaked out and overreacted when I should have been the calmest. I accidentally pushed her and the pistol fired right into her skull. But no one needs to know that. Not my daughter, not my son, not anyone. If I had just entered the room seconds earlier, I could have stopped her, she could have been still alive. It’s my fault and there is no one else to blame. I blame myself for everything about to happen…