Chapter 6: Shattered glass
I wake up to the sound of shattering glass - and mind me when I say this, you wouldn't wanna wake up to it.
I walk down at once.
The scene that falls before me breaks my heart. The wine glasses are broken into innumerable bits. The rack had collapsed. And there among the shattered glass pieces lies a shattered woman – my mother, curled up, with eyes wide open, the fresh cuts leaking blood.
"M-mom."
I can't find his voice.
Every second seems to hurt.
It is as if somebody had tore open my gut and is twisting a knife inside.
I walk upto her, glass pieces tearing the skin on my feet.
Lifting her fragile figure in my bulky arms, I carry her to bed.
I wipe away the blood and bandage the cuts. She looks numb, scared. I offer her some pain killers which she refuses without even giving the pain a second thought.
I go out to get her some water but when I return, she is already asleep. For once, I am scared.
Is she actually asleep or otherwise?
It was a sinful thought but I check her pulse nevertheless. It seems fine. So I leave the room.
I bandage my own feet and clean the mess in the kitchen, after which I sit on the couch wondering what had happened. She seemed different, difficult.
She was numb most of the time but she wasn't sobbing today. I didn't even see the hint of a tear in her hazelnut eyes. I sensed that something was different.
I return to my room. Maybe I'll make her some beans and eggs when she wakes up.
I don't have much homework so I just sit in my chair staring at the Pink Floyd poster.
But I can not focus on anything.
Her curled up figure keeps flashing before my eyes.
I feel like I could go mad any moment.
It is very difficult.
More than it had ever been.
When she cried and cursed, I knew that she was letting it all out. But now, she was quiet as the dead. Not talking, not moving.
I pull at my hair, failing to understand.
What was it bothering her now? What was it that was different?
I didn't get it one bit.
Every question died unanswered.
I don't realize how fast time passes then - when I hear someone sobbing.
It's her.
She is up.
I look at the time. My soul seems tired.
It was already 21:36.
I walk down to find her huddled up on her bed. I sit down next to her.
There's some white powder on the bedside table which is very strange.
My heart skips a beat.
It isn't –
My breathing quickens.
She couldn't be –
I look at her. She has her face in her hands, she is sobbing. I pull her hands away; she jerks off in response.
For the split second that I see her face, I see enough to draw my conclusion. There's traces of the powder above her Cupid's bow.
She was doing drugs.
I feel my heart fall to the ground.
I stand up. I do not want her to see me crying. Clueless as what to do, I give her shoulder a tight squeeze and leave without saying a word.
I have barely reached the hall when my sobs grow louder. I fall to the ground.
I can not believe it.
I don't have a father already. I cannot afford losing mom to something like that. I lie there on the ground, eyes closed. Opening them hurt too much. The reality hurt too much. I feel week, scared to see.
I lie like that for sometime. Then when I get up, I cook her beans and egg. I prepare the bowl the exact way she likes them and carry it to her room. She is still sitting on the bed but she isn't crying no more. She is starting into empty space. Her eyes are swollen, red.
I keep the food on her bedside table and leave.
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