Fault

She sat on a lone swing, staring ahead into the setting sun. Golden beams shone, covering her entire body as she leaned on the rope without any strength. Air entered her lungs rapidly through the girl’s labored breath, whose body was screaming in pain and for oxygen.

Heather held one of the ropes with right hand in order to prevent herself from falling off the swing. She looked at the crimson skies, thinking of another thing. She thought about what to do when she returned home later. She didn’t know what to do, what to feel. Everything that happened mere hours ago seemed surreal. The death was so sudden, so devastating. It was like a slap to her face, a wakeup call from reality itself. When Heather heard the news, she became numb that instant. Her long legs gave away, causing her to slide down against the wall. Sapphire eyes widen in shock and regret. At that moment, everything around her was forgotten. The teenager solely focused on the words that replayed in her head again and again.

Your grandmother…She jumped…

It was all too surprising, although Heather did nothing more than stared into nothingness, as if the death didn’t bother her, but perhaps her reaction was simply delayed. Heather took the news calmly, unlike her mother, who was crying, screaming like a mad woman, and hit the cushions that lied next to her—a normal, expected reaction from any person when a tragedy such as this befallen onto him/her.

Though in Heather’s case, she’d rather go to her beloved park alone, to clear her thoughts and confusion. The young adult knew clearly that she wasn’t acting like an ordinary person—and especially a girl—, yet what she possibly do? The only emotion she could feel was empty, if that could be considered as an emotion at all. She felt that her strength was slipping slowly from her. When she sat on her favourite swing, she felt like a broken doll…

Yes, maybe that was the suitable word.

Broken.

Heather closed her eyes while she let the dying light to bathe her, hoping it would bring her sorrow and numbness with it as it gradually disappeared. She heaved a sigh, then slapped herself, eyes brimming with tears. It was all her damn fault!

If only she had cared, if only she wasn’t so indifferent towards anyone (or anything), she could’ve saved her grandmother. After all, she did wake up before the suicide happen, but she ignored the noise outside. Heather thought her the senior citizen was watching TV as usual.

She didn’t know how wrong she was until it was too late.

Tears of regret streamed down her face despite she was biting her lower lip to prevent any emotion from surfacing. Heather didn’t permit herself to cry. She would never, ever, cry in front of anybody, because crying was for the weak. And she could not be allowed to be weak. She must be strong, or how could she had survive the society alone for all those years?

And yet…Heather reasoned in her mind, I could’ve stopped her…I could’ve…

The weeping girl recalled this morning, before the incident took place. Gloomy clouds covered the skies, rain poured down mercilessly. It was indeed like a movie, where tragedies happened. Where people took their lives, and where they would go silently.

Except this was real life.

She glared at the blinding yet fading light through the transparent liquid in her eyes. It was—and always—her fault. Everything was. She wished that just for a day, a second, that she could actually do something…right. That was all she ever dreamt of, ever wanted.

Was it so wrong?

Over the passed years, there was nothing but flaws in her damned life. Heather overlooked them, and pretended to be strong. However, by doing Heather’s own definition of ‘strong’, she blocked out anything, and anyone one else from herself. She never once lowered her guard, believing that she’d be hurt. To her, emotion was unimportant to her. So, she buried them deep, deep down. But not erased, never erased. It still existed inside of the forsaken girl.

And look what have I done! She’s dead…Dead!Heather resisted the urge to scream at the changing sky.

Damn you!