Plop, plop, plop.
The water dripped from the tap. I sighed. It would never just shut off properly. I went back to my book under the lamp. The overhung clouds had darkened as the sky turned a darker shade of blue, so the artificial lights would suffice. The writing still felt fresh under my sensitive fingertips; the pressing of the pen and smears of ink, the words tied together at the edge of the page to make sure they were written down.
I look back to the open kitchen’s skin. Thankfully, the liquid didn’t smear the ink. Swiping away the tears, I hoped that they didn't smudge the ink, despite knowing it’s well frozen and bound to the book. It would only fade with time, just like memories.
Oh god, memories; there are so many. The tears flow now and I move the book away so nothing is tampered with like the evidence of that crime scene. The drizzle started, and I only knew that the rain would get worse. Not bothering to wipe the tears, I shut the windows and prepare a coffee. Dark brown, almost black, bitter, and steaming hot, left to turn cold, just as cold as the weather.
She shouldn’t have come home. She shouldn't have asked to go home early. She shouldn't have gotten scolded by her boss. She shouldn't have gotten fired. This was all my fault. I had to be sick, I had to call her, and I had to ask her to come home. I was the one who brought this on her. Yes, I was.
I look at the time. It was 4.36 PM. Exactly the time my digital clock blinked when I looked at it through the hole in the closet door as the keys jingled at the front door. She called out, “June?" I whispered, "Mum." I could have screamed. I could have jumped out and warned her. But no, I didn’t. Oh god, why, why me?
The lightning flashed, white blinding me through the windows. The thunder was a few seconds late, just like my screams when he shot her. “That’s what she deserves for leaving me.” He snickered and ran out the door. I screamed after the crunch of his boots were a faraway sound. The autumn wind blew, the fading white shutters opened and made the front door bang against the wall. I ran to her as my life depended on it. The truth was, my life did depend on it. Mum. She was my life. But, I was late. Too late.
The thunder roared as strongly as the wind from that specific day. But not as loud as my wails, my wails that were louder than the sirens. I struggled to tell them the details; her body was just so still, too still. Shaking and screaming did nothing to wake her from her eternal sleep.
I opened the window, the rain poured and poured. The petrichor could be smelled all over. It reminded me of the funeral. Black everywhere. I looked overhead dark grey clouds. Funny enough, that was my favorite color. So many tears, and there was rain. Just as if heaven was sad to see a great human pass away. But, I knew she would end up there anyway.
“I’ll see you later, June." That’s what Mom said before she went to work. Those words kept on echoing in my head. "Mom! You promised! You said you would see me later. So where are you now, mom? Where are you?" I shouted and screamed, falling onto the ground. I kissed her forehead, she always wanted me to do so before leaving for school. But this time, I wasn't the one leaving. "Mom, please wake up," I held her hand. "I promise I'll do the dishes, please wake up." I could feel my entire body shaking. I sobbed on my crisp white shirt more than the rain ever could.
I could hear the police cars' sirens. A few cops examined her body, as one walked to me. "You’ll be alright, kiddo. I’m sorry for your loss," He patted my shoulder, and I cried. "Let's get you to the questioning room at the police station." He finished.
Life is mean and cruel. Even though my dad went to jail for killing my mum, this was worst kind of thing a little girl would have to go through, or any child for that matter. No one should have to go through this feeling. The feeling of your heartbreaking, and shattering into a million pieces because you couldn't do anything about someone you love, dying right in front of your eyes.
I sniffled and finally wiped my tears away. They would never stop, but I knew how to deal with the pain now. I opened the front door and stood in the rain, letting the cold freezing wind inside. Letting it tangle my combed hair, as the cold drops of heavy water hit my face like ice. They felt like my heavy hot tears. Except cold. The day my mum died was also the day my soul did. I let the tears come and go, just like the rain. Eventually, the rain would stop and darkness would get brighter. Till then, I would relish the darkness, and the refreshing cold breeze that swirled my hair and memories, until everything would just be a simple blur.