29

TW: suicide

Is it third of March ?

Or fourth already ?

I can't seem to remember it. I rummaged through my drawer looking for something , a knickknack to recall the date.

I didn't have newspapers , or phone ,for that matter.

A middle aged woman who had voluntarily abandoned the society didn't need to possess those.

She didn't care for the world or the people .

Is it March ?

A tear-off calendar of 2008 laid amidst pointed pliers and colorful plastic wires.

It wasn't 2008 anymore. I was sure of that. The first three years I had stayed in an slobbish apartment. There was a chubby boy in the neighborhood. He was my namesake calender.

"Hey Auntie, today is my birthday . Dad gifted me a transformer, LOOK!"

He said it for three consecutive years until....until I was asked to leave.

He was the only human in the neighborhood who talked to me .

Maybe it is still February.

A yo-yo peeked from underneath the few clothes I carried with me.

A dog had given it to me. Yeah , a dog.

I vaguely remember I had given it some of the leftover rice of the previous night. He had paid the debt of gratitude by bringing me this yo-yo from the dump box. As crazy people would think I was, I had been obliged to take it.

Is it a leap year ? If I am not wrong, today is 29.

I closed the drawer and looked through an basket overflowing with items, I was too lazy to deal with . My slender fingers caught another piece of paper. A Valentine's Day card. I wasn't a big fan of the day.

"You didn't need a day to celebrate your love. You still loved them when they woke up with bad breathe, when they made a mess in the kitchen , when they provoked you, when they farted." I believed in this philosophy.

Surprisingly, I never fell in love. Not romantically .

A picture of a baby's butt peeked from underneath the styrofoam sheet.

I pulled it out , a few other items like instant coffee sachet , hair clips and jewelry design templates dropped onto the floor .

It was a pack of baby wipes. I had used them once. It had long since lost the fragrance of baby vanilla scent.

I had a baby. She was still my baby . But her mother ceased to exist.

Her mother was an hopeless creature , something her ever so positive father had to give up on. She grew up , she never matured .

She had been suicidal , even when a good news had knocked her door . The father welcomed the newfound awareness with open arms. He would massage her head , put peppered kisses on her eyelids , caressed her cheeks , rubbed her knuckles. He was extra careful for everything concerned with the mother and the little ball of joy taking shape inside her.

But the mother never noticed , she drown herself in the stream of self loath and selfishness.

In the end , the disheveled hair , swollen eyes , scratches on cheeks and red knuckles told the father it was time to surrender . The constant yelling had sucked his liveliness.

I took out one of the leafy wipes and rubbed the sweat on my forehead away.

I met him on a stormy day . I didn't know then I would leave him in distraught just like a typhoon . He would be a breeze of fresh air in my life . But I would choke myself breathless.

We tried therapists, psychiatrist ,psychologist . All was lost for me.

The medications didn't work. Nor changing accommodation . I was perpetually teary eyed.

Finally he let me go . The baby stayed .

Nothing to hold me back.

I tossed the used leaf on the mat. There were a couple of such leaves there already.

I knew I was incapable of providing for a child. I didn't have it in me. Nothing more can I say on that topic.

I was born on a very peculiar day. 29th of February. Unlike other kids my birthday was' kind of' celebrated every four years. Somewhere it was a boon due to financial depravity of the family , I didn't asked to be born in. I had been nasty about it. Nastiness gripped my spine and clutched its tentacles into my mind. I started hating my family. Then came my friends , then teachers ,the few relatives we had , the neighbors ,the father , the baby.

The whole human felt like working against me. It seem to be working in another dimension , with rules keeping me out of the interface . The world was wired differently, I tell myself and eat my eggs.

 I think January never ended in the first place.

I ditched my mission of unearthing the date and went to make myself a cup of tea.

I moved myself out of that house . Kissed my baby goodbye and patted her father good luck. I slept the night in the parking lot of the suburb residence. I ate potato chips for many nights to come.

I worked in a coffee shop owned by a gay couple . I was asked to leave the job with the label- Not efficient enough.

I worked in housekeeping and kicked out when customers labeled me- Creepy woman.

That night I dreamt of myself sitting on a throne made of gold , naked. A crown with sparkling gemstones adorned my head.

I was crying in my dream. There was no one to wait upon me.

The next day , I bought some pliers, copper wires , shells and stones.

I was making jewelry. Then I was selling them to a low beat shop in front of a pawn cave. I was making money , I had an apartment . I had premix food.

And then I was out from the apartment due to unsocial demeanor. The universe was playing tricks on me.

I blew at my tea.

Maybe tomorrow I will find something out from the belongings that will tell me the date.

A rope dangled from the handle of the kitchen door.

I planned to utilize them some day.

On 29th February.

Is it March already ? Or is it 28 February?

Pasted from <https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/general/start-your-story-with-a-character-struggling-to-re/>