My Hope

I’ve lived in this compound for so long, it’s as if time decided to stop here. The walls are crumbling, paint peeling like memories that have long since faded. I’m the only one left in the entire compound. Out of five mini-houses, mine is the only one with a heartbeat. It looks like a haunted house, but it isn’t haunted. Or at least, not in the way you’d think. It’s haunted by the memories of broken promises and the quiet whispers of lost people. They all ran out after the robberies, after the gunshots that echoed at night. I stayed, not because I’m strong enough to protect myself — trust me, if someone tried to break in right now, I’d have no idea what to do. I stayed because I had nowhere else to go. And besides, what do I have left that anyone would want to steal? A mattress? A couple of clothes? Not even a carpet. The concrete yard in front of the house has weeds growing up through cracks. trying to take back what once was. I often find myself walking around the compound, just letting my feet shuffle along, letting the wind blow through my hair, carrying with it the stale smell of forgotten things. Today, as I walked, the memories of when Mama was here flooded my mind. She used to hum as she cleaned the house, always with a smile that made everything seem brighter. And Daddy — oh, Daddy. He always looked at me like I was his greatest achievement. I still remember his proud grin when I learned to ride my bike without training wheels. I was his pride, his world. But now… I’m alone. I paused as I walked to the spot where Mama used to sit in the garden. It was still there, the empty chair under the big oak tree. I stood there for a moment, just breathing in the air, remembering how we would sit there and talk for hours about everything and nothing. But those days are gone. trying to take back what once was. I often find myself walking around the compound, just letting my feet shuffle along, letting the wind blow through my hair, carrying with it the stale smell of forgotten things. Today, as I walked, the memories of when Mama was here flooded my mind. She used to hum as she cleaned the house, always with a smile that made everything seem brighter. And Daddy — oh, Daddy. He always looked at me like I was his greatest achievement. I still remember his proud grin when I learned to ride my bike without training wheels. I was his pride, his world. But now… I’m alone. I paused as I walked to the spot where Mama used to sit in the garden. It was still there, the empty chair under the big oak tree. I stood there for a moment, just breathing in the air, remembering how we would sit there and talk for hours about everything and nothing. But those days are gone. The smile on my face faded as I thought about them. My throat tightened, and suddenly, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears, the ones I’d managed to cage for a week, now spilled down my cheeks, hot and unrelenting. I dropped to my knees in the dirt, sobbing like I had when I was a child. No matter how much I tried to forget, the pain always came back twice as fierce. “Daddy…” I whispered through my sobs, the sound of his name a knife to my chest. I was only eight when it happened. The day everything changed. I could still see it in my mind’s eye, as if it was happening all over again.