What It Means To Regret

TEARS trickled down my cheeks, dripping on the dark grass as I stood, staring at the peaceful yet pale woman, knowing that death had already taken away her last breaths. ‘But why?’ Someone gently gripped my shoulder, a large warm hand. I didn't need to look up to know it was my eldest brother Peter, but I still looked up, meeting his midnight blue tear-filled eyes staring back. I knew what he was thinking. Probably how, how things had changed, and never will be the same again. Yet all of this felt so unbelievable, so surreal. Why were we standing in the rain, dressed in black suits and dresses, holding big black umbrellas in the air? Staring down at the stone-coffin in which lay my mother, wearing a plain lace white dress, a small lily bouquet clasped in her pale hands. Her silver-blonde hair long and wavy, flowed at her sides, shining in the dark rainy late afternoon. Her azure eyes hidden under her eyelids, their long eyelashes casting shadows on her eyes. A dash of red still on her lips, but that was just my imagination, because in the end, the truth stayed the same. I tied my eyes shut and a memory flashed before my eyes, the terrified eyes of her, the look of sadness and anger, the screams I couldn’t bear, her mouth, her mouth shaping in the word- "Why!?" I bit my lips hard, tasting the metallic flavor of blood, something I had loathed since I was a kid. I glanced at Peter again, only to see tears falling down his cheeks, but he wiped them away and smiled gently at me, a reassuring smile, to tell me everything was going to be alright, to tell me that the unbearable pain would pass away. But not this pain, not the pain I felt, not the pain I- I turned my head away and stared down at her, glancing at the eyes that were never going to open again. I heard Peter sniff, but when I looked up at him, I saw his determined eyes, his eyes no longer filled with tears, no longer mourning for our dead mother. *** A year later. I watched Mrs. Morris as she busied herself, writing an arithmetical question on the big blackboard with some chalk, frowning for no reason at all. But Mrs. Morris always frowned anyway, so it wasn’t anything new to for anyone in the classroom. I turned my head and looked and the closed window beside me. A folk of birds flew across the dull rainy sky, countless tall buildings stretched all over the place endlessly like a maze. I was the youngest in my family, my eldest brother Peter had already completed his studies and was now working as an assistant for my father, who was the CEO of a famous fashion brand called ‘Graciel’. Then my eldest sister Teresa, who was currently writing her second novel. Her first novel had nearly reached the bestselling novel list but was dropped out at the last second yet that did not stop her from writing though. My twin brother and sister, Doren and Delisa were both about to go to university, both chasing chemistry and finally me; a normal 13-year-old girl who skipped a grade in both elementary and middle school and reached high school earlier than my peers. In short, my family was one you could call ‘a wealthy family’. My train of thoughts broke as Mrs. Morris barked, “So,” nearly making me jump in surprise. I took my gaze away from the window and looked at Mrs. Morris to find her staring at me. I stared at my wristwatch, 5:32 PM it read, which meant that the class had already finished, and I hadn’t listened a single word of it. Mrs. Morris raised an eyebrow when I grinned stupidly at her, but she turned her head away from me and continued. “So, though I’m sure you all are aware, the school festival is coming near in a few months.” The whole class cheered and jumped in their seats except me. I had no interest in the school festival. And to be honest, I felt rather annoyed whenever it started. I couldn’t know why though. “But what should we do?” I heard someone say. “A café?” “Oh no! I think a play would be loads better!” “That’s just boring! Who pays attention to plays nowadays except you anyway?” “But what about Macbeth or Othello? Everyone likes Shakespearean plays!” “Nobody cares about some stupid tragedies-” “Quiet!” barked Mrs. Morris again, and the class became quiet, “I do not want hullabaloos for such a thing in my class! Do you understand me?” she glared at every one of them until they all nodded, including me. “We’ll write down’s every one of your opinions if you have any and vote at the end, alright?” said Mrs. Morris. I stifled a huge yawn as Mrs. Morris wiped the blackboard clean of chalk marks. “All right then,” she said, picking a new piece of chalk, “Let’s start, anyone wants to say something, raise your hand in the air. Yes, Lydia?” Stifling another huge yawn, I closed my eyes and put my head on my arms on the desk, closing myself away from the world… *** The bell rang through the school, and I looked up to see Mrs. Morris and the students packing their things, leaving for their school clubs and duties. I slowly stood up from my desk and looked out of the window, it was pouring heavily, but I didn’t care. Peter was going to pick me up in his car as usual anyway. I hosted my backpack on my shoulders and walked to the door when it burst opened. Taking a few steps back, I looked up to see Beth and her usual gang. Just the sight of them made me feel exhausted. Beth was the first friend I made in high school, and the first enemy because our way of making friends were different but Beth was better than me, her true friends did care for her and she trusted them, but I ran away from anyone who tried to be friends with me, or even care a bit. “Well, well, well. Look at what’ve got here, friends. It’s our dear Kate!” snickered Beth in her high-pitched voice. Her gang laughed with her, some awkwardly, others mockingly. “…Hi,” I said, having nothing else to say nor anything coming to mind. Beth thin lips turned into a rather nasty smirk, “’Hi?’ Who the hell do you think you’re, acting so friendly?” her gang laughed again with her. I stared at them indifferently. There was no use in fighting with them, it was just a waste of time and energy. I quickly walked past Beth and her gang, and without glancing back at them, I ran as fast as I could through the corridor, down the stairs, another long staircase, another corridor, in the hall and out in the rain. I gasped as I ran past the school gate, my socks soaked in dirty rainwater. My breath sharp, painful and a wheezing sound came every time I exhaled, my throat aching. Sweat mixed with rain ran down my cheeks as I tried to slow down my breaths. I had asthma, and that caused my normally carefree family to literally go nuts every few minutes, even if I coughed a little. If I walked a bit faster then normal, they would panic and tell me to slow down a bit and if I actually ran, I had to get ready to listen to a very long lecture from Dad, Peter or Teresa about the respiratory system and lung diseases and nod every time they put stress to a word while Doren and Delisa would stand watching them, trying to act serious and muffling their laughter and nod in agreement. I groaned inside at the thought but just as it had crossed my head, in the distance, I saw an elegant black car driving towards the school, its glass window sliding down. I held my breath to stop the wheezing as the car rode in front of me and I met the scanning gaze of Peter. His eyes moved to my sopping white uniform, my damp dark hair, soaked socks and filled with dirty water Nike sneakers. He frowned. But Peter turned his head away and pulled out a sky-blue umbrella from under the seat next to the driver’s. Through the open window he held out the umbrella to me, his eyes fixed on mine, but I didn’t stare back; I couldn’t. I didn’t deserve to. I took the umbrella and walked around the car, pulled the door open and sat quietly on the rear seat, my eyes fixed on my hands resting on my lap. I heard Peter sigh as he turned on the car. Silence filled the car as we passed my school and countless grey buildings. I stared at the window and whispered, my voice silent and a bit quivering, “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry for being so selfish. The was a moment of silence, but then Peter asked in a quiet voice, “You ran, didn’t you?” I nodded rather guiltily but he just laughed, “It’s alright, Kate, but…” His smile faltered, “I just… wish you would understand why we are so… so worried for you.” ‘Why do you care for me?’ I didn’t say anything, nor did Peter yet I wanted to him go on, tell me why they cared for me, tell me if they would hate me if they knew what I had done, but at the same time I didn’t want them to know, I wanted to keep them in the dark and never ask me anything. Because I knew. That it was my fault. All my fault. “Why, Kate!?” Her scream echoed in my head. Keep them in the dark or…