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Mother, will you ever love me?

Mother, will you ever love me?

By mangagirl2011

Have you ever felt rejected? Abandoned? Left behind? The pain that you carry in the deepest parts of your heart, can spread and slowly, so slowly, devour you- engulfing you in a black mist. And the girl, sleeping to the lullaby of your voice, will wish to never wake up, to never get out of her bed. You look at her, blame, anger and hatred revolving around your head and that’s when you realise that she’s the reason why your depressed... the reason why your life crumbled like the many buildings in the Blitz.
I remember awakening to the piercing sound of loud sobbing. Loud wails that immediatealy shattered my young heart. Sleep still had its spell on me and I slowly tottered around in my hello-kitty night gown, rubbing my tired brown eyes. A sore, tingling feeling was what I felt in the back of my dry throat. I had caught a cold again.
“Mummy?” I whispered as I walked into the corridor. The wailing continued. “Mummy?”
My brown eyes flung open.
“Mummy! Mummy!” I shouted.
I saw the glass frame flung against the rose wall-papered wall. I slowly crept towards it as if it was a taboo curse. Then I saw it. Damien.
My father.
I closed my eyes, as his own stared into mine. Although it was just a picture, I was always haunted by him. Damien was a cruel, heartless man. He was violent. He hated me too. He was physical to Mother a lot, especially when it was my fault. His unshaved face and insane glint in his eyes told everybody that he was a madman. Tearing myself away from him, I walked down the passage of the corridor. Mother’s wails pierced me like a dagger. I wanted her to stop. I would say anything to comfort her. As I tottered around the dining room table I found Mother crying at the door of our small London apartment. I gasped, for Mother’s lips were puffy and cut. Her face bruised from beating. The proud magenta coloured skirt she always wore, was burnt and singed at the edges. “Mummy!” I whispered, as I slowly walked over to her. I extended my small arms and I tried to hug her. Her puffy eyes eyed me with hatred and she cruelly pushed me away with tremendous force, the look of hatred on her face made me scared.
“Damien…!” she sobbed loudly, curling herself together into a ball away from my face. Tears started to spring from my brown eyes. My heart was so painful. “Mummy!” I screamed, tears running down my cheeks. I couldn’t understand why she was crying even though I do now. Then she slowly paused and looked at me, her eyes still full of anguish.
“Would you be better without me? Wouldn’t you?”
I was young, 3 ½ years old in fact. I wanted to stop the tears cascade down her sore cheeks. I wanted her to be happy with me. I nodded my head vigorously.
“Yes, Mummy! Yes! Yes!” I said eagerly, waiting for her to hug me. She didn’t.
‘Mummy, why aren’t you happy?’ I panicked, ‘what’s sad?’
And then I thought, ‘do you love me?’
She wailed in despair and grabbed my arm. I smiled at her through wet tears. Her nails gripped onto my flesh, and pierced me. Droplets of blood slowly came into view.
It hurt.
“MUMMY!” I howled.
Mother’s grip on me loosened and I wriggled loose.
I ran to my bedroom. Confusion and sadness welled up inside me.
I knew I was different from all the other kids I saw. They had Mothers and Fathers that hugged and loved them. I always asked God at night, even up to tonight, ‘will my parents ever love me?’ I’m not even sure. I crouched down to my bed, and I slowly pulled out an old, pink paint-peeled treasure box which contained the item that has been with me through the highs and lows of my life- A Paper Doll.
I called her Michelle, my middle name. She was like a sister to me. The only person I could confide my fears, hopes and dreams…. Even though she was paper; let alone real, she was my only comfort.
“M-Michelle, M-Mummy’s outside using the bathroom,” I’d try to say without bursting into tears, “I-I’ll tuck y-you in.”
I climbed into my bed, taking Michelle with me. As I set Michelle upright, I made sure that I did not break her. As I pulled my blanket closer to me, I cried. They were tears of sadness, loneliness and anguish. That night, I fell asleep from crying.
On the next morning, 15 years ago, I didn’t want to wake up from my dream and get out my bed. I’d didn’t want to wake up. I had dreamt of a happy family and Michelle and I holding hands. But I had never dreamt that Mother would never wake up from her sleep, for all eternally.
The next morning, I woke up to a deathly silence. I was confused- as I still had memories of last night. I realised I needed to use the bathroom. I walked down the corridor and noticed that the glass frame was still there. I shut my eyes and walked around it, for Damien still haunted me. I came up to the big wooden door and I grasped the brass handle.
Then I saw her.
Mother was lying on the ground. She had a note next to her waist. Her mouth was slightly a jar, and then I saw it. Mother’s dress was stained with blood. I saw the knife embedded in her chest. Her hands slumped over the handle and her blue eyes, her magnificently beautiful eyes staring at me.
“MUMMY!” I screamed, agony and fear twisting itself inside my stomach. Mother wasn’t moving! MOTHER WASN’T MOVING!
Then I realised it.
I’m not afraid of Death’s deadly embrace. I don’t care if his skeleton arms wrap around me. I’ve heard of a place called Heaven. I could live there with Mummy and Michelle. Damien would be nice and kind, like before. But… could Heaven look after me? Inside me, I knew that my own Mother couldn’t. After last night, I knew that basically hated and despised me and that she didn’t want to look after me. She never loved me like a Mother could. But I loved her and that was the wound inside me.
I made my choice.
Slowly I stumbled towards her. I put my hands on her eyelids, and I closed them.
I made my way to the bathtub and turned on the taps.
I looked at the warm, pristine water. I smiled. I turned my head and glanced at Mother and I bent over and kissed her cheek.
“It’ll be alright Mummy…” I whispered, “I love you.”
I went to my bedroom and found Michelle. I held her in my hand. I put on my rain jacket and I then went to Mother’s bedroom where I groped around for some pebbles. I put them in my pocket.
When I came to the bathroom, I turned the taps off. The bathtub was very big, and I remembered that whenever I sat in it, my head would never glance over the side.
“Goodnight, Michelle” I whispered as I climbed into the bathtub.
I shut my eyes hoping that Heaven would be my proper ‘home’ and everyday, I will smile and laugh. A smile spread across my face and I never came to the surface again.

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About This Story
16 Sep, 2011
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6 mins
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