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Make it a piece of art.
Slowly, too slowly, my surroundings register. The white walls and the bleach. The unfamiliarity and then…the familiarity itself.
The hospital.
I’m at the hospital because I cut myself. This time, I went in too deep that I had to be admitted. This time, I don’t have to google ways to stop the bleeding or hide the scars.
That’s when the most dooming realisation hits me.
I’m not dead.
A tear slides down my cheek as I soak in that reality, in the fact that I went all the way but still couldn’t die.
How could I be a failure even in death?
I’m still breathing, and the fog will soon cover my senses and envelop me in its tight embrace, and this time, it’ll never let me go.
The pain will be tenfold worse.
The harshness will be a hundred times crueller.
The reality will be so much more brutal.
Then that ‘something’ will attack me and I’ll find no reprieve from it.
Who found me? Why did they do it? Should I be thankful? Mad?
“Angel?”
My muscles lock at Dad’s voice.
No, not him.
Please, not Dad.
I don’t want him to see me this way. Why did he come back?
Facing away, I screw my eyes shut so tight, hoping against hope that he’ll think I went back to sleep and leave.
Just leave, Daddy. Don’t look at what I’ve become.
Big hands wrap around mine and I nearly lose the fight against the overwhelming emotions whirling inside me.
“Angel, please look at me. It’s Daddy.”
“It’s because you’re Daddy that I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I’ll never hate you, Kimberly.” His voice turns non-negotiable. “Never, do you hear me?”
My lids slowly open and I take him in, sitting by my bedside, holding my bandaged hand so softly, as if it’ll break any second.
Dad, Calvin Reed, is a clean-cut man in his mid-forties. A slight stubble covers his sharp jaw. He has a strong, tall build that gives him so much charisma and power. His blond-chestnut hair is always styled and perfected, his suits are tailored for him and him alone.
Dad and Mum are dubbed as one of most beautiful couples in the media, and while Kir fits in that picture-perfect family, I never have.
Right now, Dad isn’t in his usual impeccable attire. His hair sticks out as if he’s been running his fingers through it. His tie is gone and the first buttons of his shirt are undone. Black circles surround his eyes as a reminder that I disturbed his life.
“Did you have to take a night flight because of me?” I whisper, my voice spooked.
