‹ Prequel: My Unintended
Déjà vu
I wish...
Michaela’s P.O.V
I stared down at the grave just like I did every week. It was the same thing; I would read the engraving, replace the flowers and sit on the mound of earth and talk to the head stone. Every week I did that. Saturday was the only day of the week I didn’t see my friends. Saturday was her day. My mom’s day.
Here lies Melissa Harts
Beloved daughter, mother and friend
13th July 1978-30th November 2005
Rest in Peace
It was so similar to every other grave stone out there. Yet, I still loved it. It was such a simple way to remember the one person I longed to know and remember but couldn’t. I just wished none of it had ever happened.
Don’t judge me as this kid who cries herself to sleep every night because she never knew her mother and cuts her arms because she lives with her father and his husband. I don’t do that. I love my dad and if my mother was still alive, I probably wouldn’t get to live with Frank either.
I stared across at the stone and sighed.
“Oh mom, I wish you could see me right now. I feel like shit…oops, sorry…I mean crap. I keep having this dream and I don’t know what it means. You’re there and you’re saying all this stuff to me about dad. Then dad shows up and I hear a gun go off. It haunts me, mom, I wish it would just go away.” I say quietly, shuffling over to the marble headstone and leaning my back against it. I watch as a butterfly flaps around a tree and settles on a stone angel.
I fell into my own thoughts and I almost had a heart attack when a shadow fell across my face and a hand touched my shoulder. I flinched and looked up.
“Dad?” I asked, incredulously. He hardly ever visited the grave with me. “What the hell are you doing here?” He sat down beside me and pulled me to his side.
“I came to visit her. Today’s the 11th anniversary of her death.” He said quietly. I sighed as I realise, a tear escaping my eye. He must have noticed and pulled me into an awkward hug.
“Baby, it’s alright.” He whispered. I let more tears escape. I loved his hugs. There was no other feeling that could ever compare to this. His strong grip made me feel so safe, like I was invincible.
“Daddy, I miss her.” I confessed. “I just wanted to know my mom, like you knew her.” I heard dad sigh as he rubbed my back to comfort me.
“Baby, I thought I knew her, I really did…” He said, hesitating.
We had talked about mom before and I knew she had killed herself but dad had told me he wouldn’t tell me anything else about it until I was older. I was 10 when I found out.
“Dad, I really need to know what happened.” I said, pulling away from his strong hug. “You did promise.”
“Michaela, I don’t want you to feel like your mother was a bad person, because she wasn’t, she was just young.” He said.
“Then maybe you could help me to understand that. Dad, I need to know.” I said. He looked into my eyes, the exact double of his, and sighed. My heart pounded, I was finally going to learn the truth.
I stared down at the grave just like I did every week. It was the same thing; I would read the engraving, replace the flowers and sit on the mound of earth and talk to the head stone. Every week I did that. Saturday was the only day of the week I didn’t see my friends. Saturday was her day. My mom’s day.
Here lies Melissa Harts
Beloved daughter, mother and friend
13th July 1978-30th November 2005
Rest in Peace
It was so similar to every other grave stone out there. Yet, I still loved it. It was such a simple way to remember the one person I longed to know and remember but couldn’t. I just wished none of it had ever happened.
Don’t judge me as this kid who cries herself to sleep every night because she never knew her mother and cuts her arms because she lives with her father and his husband. I don’t do that. I love my dad and if my mother was still alive, I probably wouldn’t get to live with Frank either.
I stared across at the stone and sighed.
“Oh mom, I wish you could see me right now. I feel like shit…oops, sorry…I mean crap. I keep having this dream and I don’t know what it means. You’re there and you’re saying all this stuff to me about dad. Then dad shows up and I hear a gun go off. It haunts me, mom, I wish it would just go away.” I say quietly, shuffling over to the marble headstone and leaning my back against it. I watch as a butterfly flaps around a tree and settles on a stone angel.
I fell into my own thoughts and I almost had a heart attack when a shadow fell across my face and a hand touched my shoulder. I flinched and looked up.
“Dad?” I asked, incredulously. He hardly ever visited the grave with me. “What the hell are you doing here?” He sat down beside me and pulled me to his side.
“I came to visit her. Today’s the 11th anniversary of her death.” He said quietly. I sighed as I realise, a tear escaping my eye. He must have noticed and pulled me into an awkward hug.
“Baby, it’s alright.” He whispered. I let more tears escape. I loved his hugs. There was no other feeling that could ever compare to this. His strong grip made me feel so safe, like I was invincible.
“Daddy, I miss her.” I confessed. “I just wanted to know my mom, like you knew her.” I heard dad sigh as he rubbed my back to comfort me.
“Baby, I thought I knew her, I really did…” He said, hesitating.
We had talked about mom before and I knew she had killed herself but dad had told me he wouldn’t tell me anything else about it until I was older. I was 10 when I found out.
“Dad, I really need to know what happened.” I said, pulling away from his strong hug. “You did promise.”
“Michaela, I don’t want you to feel like your mother was a bad person, because she wasn’t, she was just young.” He said.
“Then maybe you could help me to understand that. Dad, I need to know.” I said. He looked into my eyes, the exact double of his, and sighed. My heart pounded, I was finally going to learn the truth.