Chapter 1: Haunted memory lane
1060 Words
“Grandma, please help me fix my doll’s arm...”
Staring at my doll Kitty patiently, I mummer to myself how I love my dolly as we both have green eyes and long hair like a princess.
“She is a curse of my life; I will not accept her."
I Looked upon my shoulder as I tried to find the source of ominous shouts, I grabbed my doll and assembled myself with courage walked towards the door.
I heard a thud.
He opened the door, and I saw blood on his hand; my courage went south with his devilish smirk.
All I saw was, my doll soaked my courage. Still, holding her broken arm, shivered with the sudden changes; caught the sight of grandma. It changed my fear to curiosity. I ran towards her.
She looked strange; it scares me.
Her eyes were red-blue and unable to understand. I rest my doll next to her to bring comfort. It didn't help her as she was bleeding. I could only gaze at my dearest grandma in pain.
He came with dysphoria energy.
“Come here,” He roared at me.
Shocked, with ear spilling sound, my inside was numbly scared as hell though I will do whatever he said, it might help my grandma feel better.
“Yes, Grandpa."
“Don't take her, she is innocent,” grandma groaned.
He plucked me painlessly from her hand with a tug and took me to another room.
Hanging like a weightless corpse, he dragged me in his room.
It scares me to enter that room.
Thought there lives a monster who dictates my grandpa to descend like him. He discarded me on the floor as we enter the room. I sensed the smell of the old rug and rotten woods of the walls, which I thought was the supplication altar for monstrous prayer.
An old tomb of old guns and a flickering lamp engaged my sight.
I sat quietly on the floor, waiting for the next command.
He pulled his rocking chair next to me; held a burning cigar and a glass of whiskey. It gave him a look of a monster I always imagined and scared off.
White clouds coming from his mouth covered his dominating smile and bulgy red eyes as he slurps his first sip; reminds me of my dress soaked in pee.
“Today, we will play a game." He bends toward me.
Pulled my tiny hand in his bloody hard hand, made me feel drained of my voice and courage.
“I want you to answer me. If you can’t, I will punish you that you will always remember.”
Holding the broken arm, and realized I didn't have any choice.
I nodded in a yes becloud in the smoke on my face crushed my hand tightly.
He fired his first question.
“Why does your grandma love you and I hate you?” With tears rolling from my eyes, I begged him,
“Grandpa, my hand is hurting." He ignored my groans and crushed it harder.
He wants me to answer him first, “Because I love her too and..." before accomplishing my sentence, I felt a sharp pain in my wrist.
I saw something scorching my hand. My flesh roasted like a chicken wing.
He brutally kept his burning cigar in my hand.
Hatred dripped from his eyes.
He answered, "Oh, my green eye bird, the wrong answer. The important thing is that I hate you, and you know why?"
Screamed to the top of my voice, I begged him to leave my hand,
“It hurts Grandpa. Please leave me; I don't love Grandma.
I love you, love you…”
Alarm rings. Beep, Beep, Beep
My eyes popped up in pure horror.
I was not in the same darkroom. My body jammed, and all I sense was my left hand. And it's deep suffering.
It terrified me to death with the fear of what had happened 12 years back.
Still felt that pain & darkness inside; it's real and crisp in my memory. Immediately, I pushed the blanket off of my sweating body and got out of the bed.
Shook my head and pulled my hair in a giant messy bun.
"Get up..... We will be late. Melon, Wake up..."
She's my best friend, the most beautiful, warm-hearted person on this planet.
I call her melon because of her big-booty; She loves me.
With all love, I screamed, "You fatty ass, it's 6:30..." and I kicked on her big calling balls.
"What a pleasure to start your day with a trampoline-like your booty.." She fell on the other side of the bed with a booming sound 'Boom...'
"You b***h. It hurts. I will kill you. And stop calling me 'Melon' "
She dragged her blanket from the bed and snuggled herself into it.
I jumped over the bed and hugged her, purred in her ears.
"Good morning to my best melon in the world..."
“I am not going today. My shift has changed. I told you yesterday, now let me sleep.”
She reminds me of a time change, throwing a good morning hug;
I rushed to grab my slippers headed towards the bathroom.
I looked at myself in the mirror and saw my wrist, where I felt the burned venom given by him.
I jump in the bathroom and curse the icy water hitting my body, thinking of how I am scared of love.
I may not be able to love anyone, will not allow to love me
"Nobody will love me. I am not a lovable person."
It destined my life to bring pain only, not love.
After dragging myself from dark, haunting thoughts, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and rushed towards my closet.
I had a presentation in my company, and I had to wear something presentable.
The company I always dreamed of, and now I started my journey in this company as an intern.
My search for presentable clothes was on.
I dragged a white blouse, "Need to iron it," skirt, "This too," with a blazer...
Roamed around in a fluffy towel, I stop in front of the vanity and applied some liner, mascara, and lip gloss and put on my professional clothes.
While I tried hard to be on time Melon, reminds me to brush my hair, "Lemon, your hair?" She calls me lemon as she got big booty/melons.
I have boobs like the size of lemons.
I opened my messy bun; my long curly brown hair almost reached my waist, draped down like a curtain.
Somehow I brush my hair in a ponytail; grabbed my files, laptop, and my stuff.
I looked at my phone, "Ahh..."
I had enough time to put something in my mouth before I had to leave for my office, came down and grabbed a banana, and rushed for the bus stop.
- Writer
