of shattered memories - a short story

The girl looked up, scanning her surroundings as she felt a familiar breeze pulling at her hair. The lazy-like orange glow almost disappeared from the sky, replaced by the enchanting coolness of the night. She liked this, the feeling of comfort — even slightly romantic - of a quiet London.

                                                            

She noticed the lights of the bakery lamp she greeted every morning began twinkling, as if to say goodbye to her as the weak flashes of the lights went out, following the owner to rest on the weekend. 

 

She turned her gaze to the horizon, where dozens of skyscrapers began to show their hidden charm - millions of compact lights lit up to beautify the night.

 

The girl wrapped herself tighter around her woolen jacket. She will never get used to the autumn winds. Every breath she took pierced her to the very bone, that was the expression she used when anyone asked if she ever fancied the season. If other people glorify the beauty of merigold and red leaves kissing the ground, she prefers to take notice of the twigs that fall, how lonely the streets are in the afternoon without people passing by, too busy warming themselves.

 

Somehow, she always managed to catch the dark side of everything. The view of her life has always been a bit gloomy. I have no one to blame besides everyone, her own thought reminded her over and over.

 

Do not blame her for choosing this life.

 

Do not blame her for choosing to run away, disconnected from everyone she knows.

 

She doesn't care anymore. She is happy, she should be happy now.

 

Her thoughts stopped as she felt one of her pocket vibrated. She picked up her mobile phone, her eyes caught the row of numbers appearing on the screen.

 

His fingers trembled. That was a message from one of the two persons she most wanted to avoid.

 

She bit her lip, pondering her decision. Then, as if her fingers weren’t herself, she pressed the pop-up notification.

 

What greeted her eyes is exactly a line composed of two short sentences.

 

Please go home soon. Mom is very sick.

 

She could hear her heart pounding. She never knew any of her family had a serious illness. Could it be?

 

Her mind automatically focused on the last sentence. Please go home soon, with the word 'please' clearly starting it.

 

This is something new. For the first time, her father actually tried to communicate. Yes, she was sure it was her father's number. She always remembers even when she does not want to. Her father always knows how to act by his rules. Even now, the request felt like the strictest command of his father.

 

She does not want to go home. Her heart had been taken. She felt comfortable here, alone, without the shadow of anyone else. Without the constraints and expectations of anyone. After all, she is no longer accepted in her family. How can her father want her back?

 

Her fingers that were typing the reply message stopped. No, she will never do it again. She will not obey for his father's sake. She had enough of pushing all her wants and dreams under the rug. The girl pushed her phone back inside her pocket. She straightened her hair behind her ear angrily, walking quickly to the bus stop.

 

She did not realize that her heart was getting harder as she walked down the road.

 

_________

 

She gasped as her body slumped on the chair. Silently, the girl cursed herself for letting her thoughts run wild, successfully missing the last bus by a few seconds. She gritted her teeth, the corners of her eyes wet with tears.

 

When she found out that she was accepted at one of the most prestigious university in London, she never felt so happy. She felt victorious. Finally, finally she will live her own life. Everything is under her control.

 

Ironically, the happy memory only made her laugh. She felt like pitying herself, the lonely girl sitting all alone in the back of a worn-out bus. The things she has achieved, the things she has fought for, means nothing. She’s still scared. She’s still that little bird trapped in its cage.

 

She closed her eyes, the scattered images hiding deep inside her mind began to unfold.

 

All the years she had to endure,

 

Of having no control whatsoever of her own damned life,

 

Of the empty void inside her,

 

Of the never-ending screaming and yelling coming from the people closest to her,

 

Or at least she thought were.  

 

She is a dying star, a spectacular time bomb waiting to explode into a supernova, reduced into dust in the endless galaxy. The pieces that were a part of her will disappear. People will never know she exists, nor will anyone want to remember her because she is an ordinary star. She’s not humongous, not a star with the brightest beam, nor the hottest.

 

However, people have forgotten the fact that she was, in fact, the center of her galaxy.

 

That night, the girl laid on top of her soft mattress, wishing she could undo it all. If last wishes do exist, she’d wish she had never been known as a shattered star.