Indiscernable Games
4
I got sick of being in my room so I floated downstairs. I saw a note on the table, which I had not noticed when I first came in.
Ivory,
Hi! Sorry Iv’s but I am going to be a bit delayed again tonight. Something popped up in the office, you know how it is. Sorry. There is some microwave lasagne in the fridge for you. Love, your mom.
I sighed and dropped the letter on the floor. If my mother anything knew about me, she would know that I despise lasagne. She would also know that I am fully aware that ‘something popped up in the office’ means ‘Derek popped in to pick me up in his shiny BMW soft top to bring me out to a five star restaurant to spoil me with caviar and baby shrimp’. I knew she was seeing him, I wish she would just tell me. I know they are not ‘just friends’ but it’s like she’s trying to spare my feelings or something.
Maybe if Dad was still around I’d have someone to talk to. He used to talk to me, instead of at me. He listened to what I had to say and he would actually respond, as if he was actually enjoying our conversation. That used to be nice. I try to remember him the way he was. Instead of the way I found him.
It’s one of those things you see that you will carry to the grave. It’s something you hold so close to your heart that whenever you think of it or someone mentions it you block it out completely. I have almost completely convinced myself I’m over it. But somewhere deep down it’s still there, poking at my heart like an annoying child, begging me to let it out. To deal with it. To feel it.
It had been a good day. I remember the sun was shining and I couldn’t wait to get home because Dad promised to take me out. He had told me it was a surprise. Mum picked me up and we walked home hand in hand, she had been so beautiful to me back then. I used to gaze up at her and want to be just like her, tall, blonde and gorgeous. Now I see her for what she really is. We had arrived home and I had ran through the door dropping my school bag on the way. I ran straight to the kitchen, expecting to see my father sitting down at the table, reading his newspaper, as usual.
If I were to describe how I felt when I saw my dads brains splattered all over the kitchen wall and his body lying flat out on the white marble floor, gun in hand, his coffee still steaming on the table, I would say it was the most terrifying thing in the world. My heart fell into my stomach. I had sworn I was dead, I had felt so empty. My eyes blurred and my throat flamed as I began to choke out sobs. Mum had screamed and screamed. I remember clutching my stomach and throwing up.
I was seven years old.
I sat at the kitchen table listening to the silence of the house. It was times like this I wished I had a brother, a sister or a friend. I heard the silence of my kitchen and wondered how the sound of a gun roaring would feel. If my Dad hated life even half as much as I did then I could take a shortcut too. I contemplated suicide all the time. I had too much time to think about it. I hated being on my own, but it seemed to be the one thing I did the most.
Ivory,
Hi! Sorry Iv’s but I am going to be a bit delayed again tonight. Something popped up in the office, you know how it is. Sorry. There is some microwave lasagne in the fridge for you. Love, your mom.
I sighed and dropped the letter on the floor. If my mother anything knew about me, she would know that I despise lasagne. She would also know that I am fully aware that ‘something popped up in the office’ means ‘Derek popped in to pick me up in his shiny BMW soft top to bring me out to a five star restaurant to spoil me with caviar and baby shrimp’. I knew she was seeing him, I wish she would just tell me. I know they are not ‘just friends’ but it’s like she’s trying to spare my feelings or something.
Maybe if Dad was still around I’d have someone to talk to. He used to talk to me, instead of at me. He listened to what I had to say and he would actually respond, as if he was actually enjoying our conversation. That used to be nice. I try to remember him the way he was. Instead of the way I found him.
It’s one of those things you see that you will carry to the grave. It’s something you hold so close to your heart that whenever you think of it or someone mentions it you block it out completely. I have almost completely convinced myself I’m over it. But somewhere deep down it’s still there, poking at my heart like an annoying child, begging me to let it out. To deal with it. To feel it.
It had been a good day. I remember the sun was shining and I couldn’t wait to get home because Dad promised to take me out. He had told me it was a surprise. Mum picked me up and we walked home hand in hand, she had been so beautiful to me back then. I used to gaze up at her and want to be just like her, tall, blonde and gorgeous. Now I see her for what she really is. We had arrived home and I had ran through the door dropping my school bag on the way. I ran straight to the kitchen, expecting to see my father sitting down at the table, reading his newspaper, as usual.
If I were to describe how I felt when I saw my dads brains splattered all over the kitchen wall and his body lying flat out on the white marble floor, gun in hand, his coffee still steaming on the table, I would say it was the most terrifying thing in the world. My heart fell into my stomach. I had sworn I was dead, I had felt so empty. My eyes blurred and my throat flamed as I began to choke out sobs. Mum had screamed and screamed. I remember clutching my stomach and throwing up.
I was seven years old.
I sat at the kitchen table listening to the silence of the house. It was times like this I wished I had a brother, a sister or a friend. I heard the silence of my kitchen and wondered how the sound of a gun roaring would feel. If my Dad hated life even half as much as I did then I could take a shortcut too. I contemplated suicide all the time. I had too much time to think about it. I hated being on my own, but it seemed to be the one thing I did the most.