My Life... Bleeding on the Bathroom Floor
My world in ruins
In the course of the next two weeks, Mercy and Frankie became great friends. Every day they would play together up in the tree, and on the playground equipment. Frankie became an excellent climber, he could climb all the way to the top without Mercy's help and Mercy learned to swing so high, she thought she had wings. They had so much fun together, until that seemingly harmless day....
Young little Mercy woke up and stared at her Lavender walls, with dark blue lilly's and roses that pranced with her imagination, across the purple canvas like ballet dancers across the stage. Swinging back her covers she waltzed around her room in her white nightgown, twirling and swaying with a silent orchestratic melody. She finally stopped to open her window and feel the cool October breeze sift through her hair. She was turning 6 in a week, how much happier could she be? She dressed and ran down stairs.
Somethings wrong, the rattling in the kitchen wasn't there, John's newspaper wasn't on the table, or was it in his hands, in fact, neither Mother nor John were in the kitchen. She checked the living room, dining room, pool room, smoking lounge, and lastly the library. And sitting there were her Mother and John.
Whispering, they snapped up and looked worried. She smiled and ran into her mother's outstretched arms. Her mother then pulled away. Mercy's smile slowly faded away into a confused frown.
"Mara, darling, you should know, your father... he isn't coming home."
"What are you talking about?" her countenance growing more serious and confused by each passing second. John shook his head and spoke up, voice cracked in sorrow and worry.
"He... he's dead."
Mercy's eyes went wide, brimmed in white shock. Frankie had told her about death, horrible subject it was, but she became increasingly interested in it, fascinated her beyond all comparison. But this was not interesting, nor was it fascinating. She backed away slowly, tears threatening to stream down her face like tiny waterfalls. She turned and ran, her mother calling out behind her.
Up the stairs, and down the hall, into her room, she flung herself down on her bed and wailed into her feather pillow. How could this happen?
Well for the next four days, Mercy never left her room. Frankie waited everyday for her on the oak tree platform for hours, then on October thirty-first, their birthday, her saw her walk from her house, into a limo, dressed in black, head to toe. Mercy's eyes were red and blood shot. He walked up the drive and hugged her. She didn't hug back. She was cold, looked lifeless. He overheard her mother talking to the limo driver, but when she mentioned 'dead' and 'father' in the same sentence, he knew the reason behind her deathly appearance. He let Mercy go and turned to see the limo better. It was no limo, too short. It was in fact, a hearse. He couldn't remember the name, but it had something to do with dead people and churches.
"Come deary, get in, we must get there soon."
"Yes mother."
Her voice was flat and monotonous. She scared him, to a very far extent.
At the wake, she passed last in the line by her father. She stood there. Staring at his pale, lifeless body. And at that moment her little world fell to ruins. All that she had believed went straight to a pile of rubbish, no more flowers dancing on her walls, no more rainbows with crocks of gold at the end, unicorns, dragons... everything was kicked out, and misery and woe took over completely. Today was her birthday, her sixth and Frankie's seventh, and she was celebrating it at her father's funeral, having the biggest epiphany any small girl would ever get. 'And so now here it lies; My world came crashing down on me' she thought flatly and sat down in the pew in the back. She then remembered the funeral was the following day.
Half way through the ceremony Mercy got up and walked out of the church doors, into the rain. A car drove past, and she stepped under the icy rain drops. raised her arm outward and wailed all her sorrows to the empty heavens.
Young little Mercy woke up and stared at her Lavender walls, with dark blue lilly's and roses that pranced with her imagination, across the purple canvas like ballet dancers across the stage. Swinging back her covers she waltzed around her room in her white nightgown, twirling and swaying with a silent orchestratic melody. She finally stopped to open her window and feel the cool October breeze sift through her hair. She was turning 6 in a week, how much happier could she be? She dressed and ran down stairs.
Somethings wrong, the rattling in the kitchen wasn't there, John's newspaper wasn't on the table, or was it in his hands, in fact, neither Mother nor John were in the kitchen. She checked the living room, dining room, pool room, smoking lounge, and lastly the library. And sitting there were her Mother and John.
Whispering, they snapped up and looked worried. She smiled and ran into her mother's outstretched arms. Her mother then pulled away. Mercy's smile slowly faded away into a confused frown.
"Mara, darling, you should know, your father... he isn't coming home."
"What are you talking about?" her countenance growing more serious and confused by each passing second. John shook his head and spoke up, voice cracked in sorrow and worry.
"He... he's dead."
Mercy's eyes went wide, brimmed in white shock. Frankie had told her about death, horrible subject it was, but she became increasingly interested in it, fascinated her beyond all comparison. But this was not interesting, nor was it fascinating. She backed away slowly, tears threatening to stream down her face like tiny waterfalls. She turned and ran, her mother calling out behind her.
Up the stairs, and down the hall, into her room, she flung herself down on her bed and wailed into her feather pillow. How could this happen?
Well for the next four days, Mercy never left her room. Frankie waited everyday for her on the oak tree platform for hours, then on October thirty-first, their birthday, her saw her walk from her house, into a limo, dressed in black, head to toe. Mercy's eyes were red and blood shot. He walked up the drive and hugged her. She didn't hug back. She was cold, looked lifeless. He overheard her mother talking to the limo driver, but when she mentioned 'dead' and 'father' in the same sentence, he knew the reason behind her deathly appearance. He let Mercy go and turned to see the limo better. It was no limo, too short. It was in fact, a hearse. He couldn't remember the name, but it had something to do with dead people and churches.
"Come deary, get in, we must get there soon."
"Yes mother."
Her voice was flat and monotonous. She scared him, to a very far extent.
At the wake, she passed last in the line by her father. She stood there. Staring at his pale, lifeless body. And at that moment her little world fell to ruins. All that she had believed went straight to a pile of rubbish, no more flowers dancing on her walls, no more rainbows with crocks of gold at the end, unicorns, dragons... everything was kicked out, and misery and woe took over completely. Today was her birthday, her sixth and Frankie's seventh, and she was celebrating it at her father's funeral, having the biggest epiphany any small girl would ever get. 'And so now here it lies; My world came crashing down on me' she thought flatly and sat down in the pew in the back. She then remembered the funeral was the following day.
Half way through the ceremony Mercy got up and walked out of the church doors, into the rain. A car drove past, and she stepped under the icy rain drops. raised her arm outward and wailed all her sorrows to the empty heavens.