Status: Thanks so much for reading!!
Mistake
Keep Them Closed
I laid on my futon for hours after being escorted back to my room. No one came to undress me. Or clean up my face.
I didn't move a muscle. My eyes were glued to a section of the swirly-wood that made up my ceiling. The spot looked like a distorted face. Usually, I would stare at the face until I fell asleep, but tonight, even exhaustion wouldn't give me solace from my thoughts.
I wondered what my mother would do to me.
Would she make a servant hit me? Would I be left without food until I starved? Would she tell everybody to leave the house and leave me alone, forever cooped up in this room until I died of loneliness?
My fear in the pit of my stomach had no peace, forever stimulated by my thoughts.
It was almost midnight when my mother, for the twelfth time in all my life, had come into my room.
~
She didn't say a word, just grabbed my shoulder and pulled me from the futon. For a moment, I thought she was going to hit me, but she simply pushed me out the door.
"Close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them." I did as I was told and everything was blacker than it was before. My feet drug across the floor so I wouldn't trip.
A gust of freezing air hit me as I heard a sliding door open.
"Mother, it's cold."
"Don't speak." I bit my lip and shoved my hands into the folds of the little kimono I had worn to the party, trying to keep them warm. "And don't call me Mother." Her voice managed to sound colder than the stone walkway beneath my bare feet. I heard water, and I recognized where I was as the backyard I spent so long looking at.
We walked for what felt like a thousand hours. My feet were starting to hurt. It got colder as we walked, and it was becoming more of a challenge to keep my eyes closed.
It felt like there were lines beneath my feet, the only way to describe it without seeing. I heard whatever it was creak with the weight of my mother and I. A wave of cold, wet air washed over me. It smelled like salt and rotten fish.
I hadn't realized my mother had let go of my shoulder until I heard the floor creak away from me. Anxiety filled me up. I felt absent.
"Where are you going?" The creaking stopped and I heard a groan of frustration.
"I'll be right back. I have to go get you something. Now, don't speak anymore." I knew she was lying and my throat closed up in an instant. I didn't turn towards her, in fear of what she would do if she saw me crying.
My head was so loud with tears I couldn't hear her walk away from me.
I didn't move a muscle. My eyes were glued to a section of the swirly-wood that made up my ceiling. The spot looked like a distorted face. Usually, I would stare at the face until I fell asleep, but tonight, even exhaustion wouldn't give me solace from my thoughts.
I wondered what my mother would do to me.
Would she make a servant hit me? Would I be left without food until I starved? Would she tell everybody to leave the house and leave me alone, forever cooped up in this room until I died of loneliness?
My fear in the pit of my stomach had no peace, forever stimulated by my thoughts.
It was almost midnight when my mother, for the twelfth time in all my life, had come into my room.
~
She didn't say a word, just grabbed my shoulder and pulled me from the futon. For a moment, I thought she was going to hit me, but she simply pushed me out the door.
"Close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them." I did as I was told and everything was blacker than it was before. My feet drug across the floor so I wouldn't trip.
A gust of freezing air hit me as I heard a sliding door open.
"Mother, it's cold."
"Don't speak." I bit my lip and shoved my hands into the folds of the little kimono I had worn to the party, trying to keep them warm. "And don't call me Mother." Her voice managed to sound colder than the stone walkway beneath my bare feet. I heard water, and I recognized where I was as the backyard I spent so long looking at.
We walked for what felt like a thousand hours. My feet were starting to hurt. It got colder as we walked, and it was becoming more of a challenge to keep my eyes closed.
It felt like there were lines beneath my feet, the only way to describe it without seeing. I heard whatever it was creak with the weight of my mother and I. A wave of cold, wet air washed over me. It smelled like salt and rotten fish.
I hadn't realized my mother had let go of my shoulder until I heard the floor creak away from me. Anxiety filled me up. I felt absent.
"Where are you going?" The creaking stopped and I heard a groan of frustration.
"I'll be right back. I have to go get you something. Now, don't speak anymore." I knew she was lying and my throat closed up in an instant. I didn't turn towards her, in fear of what she would do if she saw me crying.
My head was so loud with tears I couldn't hear her walk away from me.