. hush

[acantha o'hara]

it's as if the world has crashed around me, leaving a ringing in my ears and a pounding in my heart. my breath has caught in my chest, i can feel the tingling sensation descending through my limbs, paralyzing my muscles in a way that i never thought possible. the officer’s lips are moving, but in such a manner that it's as if everything has been slowed down tenfold. the words echo in my ear but i don't comprehend. she's gone. she's gone. this can't be happening.

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the ride home seems like a blur, the familiar odour that lingers in hospitals seemingly clinging to my skin, to my very essence, suffocating me. the sight of my mother is burned into the very flesh of my mind. i am unable to push away the memory. the fresh wounds, although cleaned as well as possible, mar her beautiful visage. the face that i once connected to, i can no longer. she's a mangled mess, the remnants of a stupid, silly mistake and the aftermath of a terrible miscalculation. i'm lost at sea. there is nowhere to go, no one to turn to. i realize for the first time that i am completely alone in this world.

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a phone rings. i am curled up in bed, the sheets acting as a cocoon from the outside world, protecting me from the memories that pervade the house that i once called home. it is no longer home though - not without her. the ringing continues, piercing my eardrums like an icepick, making me flinch with the shrillness of it. finally, it stops, and i am at peace. i drift back into my solitude.

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days have passed. how many, i can't be sure, but the sky is dark, remnants of sunlight slowly drifting below the horizon, reflected off of the calm ocean that surrounds the small island. the blazing glory of the sun has passed into shadow, much like my optimism. as i sit on the balcony, a sweating beer - how can that be possible even at night, i wonder idly - clutched in my hand, i struggle to come to terms with what has happened.

all my life, it had just been us; it had always been my mother and i against the world. she had brought me a joy that seemed inconceivable now. i had learned so much from her. as i studied the bottle between my knees, my fingers trailing lazy patterns over the frosty glass, i cannot help but feel a deep sadness. what would she think if she saw me now, sitting her, my passionate soul wasting away within this heart of glass?

that night, i cry myself to sleep. this will be the first and the last time i do so. i have to live, for her, for me.

life goes on.

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