He held my hand to cross the street. My eyes were too puffy and the sun was too bright for me to speculate where we were heading.
We end up at a coffee shop. A latte in front of me and a cappuccino in his hands. “drink up, sweets”. I can’t seem to move my arms though, it takes so much effort for me to do so, I give up mid way. I look down at what I’m wearing. A long nightgown covered in muck and blood and an oversized jacket to supposedly cover it up. I didn’t feel the tear drop till I felt it lingering on my chin. I noticed him looking at me. His eyebrows raised and his eyes.. They seem to be wondering if he should pity me or be purely disappointed.
He sighs and shuts his eyes. I look up and around trying to dry out my tears before they flea down for gravity. It feels like I burden him every time this happens. As if everything I do is pathetic and everlasting in grief. I can’t take it. The tears start streaming, my cheeks start to burn. He reaches both his arms towards my hands and I accept them.
“Look, I know this has been hard for you, its driven us towards the edge as well. It’s awful.” His eyes are big and sorrowful. Maybe pitiful. I can’t tell. “I’ve decided you need more help than we could ever offer.” His hands tighten on me. “Medical help”.
This doesn’t phase me. I expected they’d do it soon. Ever since he’d passed, I’ve spiralled towards the pits of my own demons. Jammed myself into an abyss of callousness until 2 am struck and I’d find myself digging through our backyard; my nails pushing into the soil, looking for all the items he put for our treasure hunts. The game I’ve never bothered playing.
He continues “We miss him just as much. We can’t handle losing you too. It’s only going to be for a while, until we get you stable and able to work through your day without disabling yourself midway” I nod.
“It okay, dad. I understand. I’m a mess” I’m filthy, its my fault. My mother can’t even look at me. I can’t expect to see dad able to see me for this long without spitting at my face.
I drank the last drop of the red whine dad hid from us in the top right cabinet. They were two bottles; one half full the other brand new, I finished both. I felt woosy and completely lost sense of my motion by the time Eric dragged my arm telling me to play damn treasure hunt with him. He’d always hide crap in our backyard and try, though always fail to get me to play with him.
“you know what” pulling my arm away from his and trying to get off the sofa. Such effort. I ended up tripping multiple times before I was able to stand up. “Lets play a better game” I feel my smile creep up. Eric steps back seeming a little tense “no, no it okay” I stagger towards him “Oh, come on! You always wanted to play. Lets. Fucking. play” I grab him by his wrist and snatch the door open.
I don’t remember much of what happened afterwards. Except that I was freezing when I woke up, the back of my head swollen and shoulder bruised. I was lying on the grass near the cliff close by the skate park. Such a bad idea, having a skatepark near the edge of a cliff. It was pretty dark, though a few street lights helped me see a little. I couldn’t remember and I wish I did. It felt like something was awfully wrong. I look at the time on my wrist watch. 2 am. My breathing starts to quicken. Eric.
i snap back into dads face when he tells me he’d already schedule an appointment for the therapy.
The continuation will be on https://www.wattpad.com/298520966-treasure-hunt as it will be a little booklet