II. GRIEF
Regret, Remorse, Angst, Self-Pity
Everything was blindingly white.
The walls, the floor, the sheets, everything was the same pristine color. The quick change from the darkness of sleep to the overwhelming shade of the room made my eyes ache, but a few blinks and I slowly adjusted. I sat up, finding myself in a small twin bed, covered by a thin sheet. Not only was this room painfully bright, it was also absolutely freezing. I managed to force myself from under the sheet, being fully exposed to the cold air. Where was I?
The room was unfamiliar and fairly plain. The walls to the left, right, and behind me were all cinderblock. In front of me, the whole wall was nearly engulfed by a window to another room. It was empty. Looking around, all there was in my room was a bed, a toilet, a sink, and a desk. My gaze moved to the door, and I walked towards it. My whole body felt stiff, like I'd been asleep for days. My fingers grasped the cold metal of the handle, and I turned it, but it wouldn't budge. I was locked in.
But why?
I shuffled back to the bed, sitting down, wracking my brain and trying to find reasons as to why I'd be locked in a room. Mom and dad had gotten in a fight again, that's the last thing I remembered. So why was I here? They fought all the time like that, so why now? Trying once again to remember, there was a click and the door to the room opened. My head shot up and I stared into the doorway, it was my mom. Almost immediately, I shot up and ran to her, giving her a big hug.
"Good, you finally woke up…" She said, I returned her statement with questioning eyes. Her face was painted with the same smile I often saw her wear, it wasn't a happy smile. "You've been asleep for days, I was worried." She ran her fingers through my dark hair, I always liked how it felt. "What happened?" I asked. It took her a long time to answer.
"There…was an accident…" She began to explain, already this wasn't sounding good. "Something happened…when your dad and I were fighting. Something bad." Her voice cracked, tears formed in her eyes, but she kept that same smile. "I'm sorry about this, Gabriel, but it's for your own good." With that, she pulled from me, stepping backwards out the doorway, I didn't move.
"I'm sorry."
The door shut and locked with a click.
I couldn't move, I was immobilized. What was she talking about? What had happened to dad? She said it was something bad, and the only thing I could think of worse than what normally happened was death. Did mom kill him? My breathing quickened, it had to be true. What else could've happened? It felt like there was a pit in my stomach, and a lump began to form in the back of my throat. I wasn't sad, not about dad. I'd wished him dead for as long as I could remember. But why was I crying?
Tears streamed down my face as I leaned against the desk for support. I just had a horrible feeling, a feeling like I'd done something wrong. Surely it was mom who did it, but I felt bad. Like the final blow had come from my hand. But that didn't matter. Mom would get better soon, and she'd come back for me. Wouldn't she?
For some reason, I didn't feel so sure about that. I felt like she was going to leave me here.
Forever.