Forgetting you by ninja choco (e book reader pdf txt) 📕

Just swing the door open.

The door creaked open on its hinges and I peered cautiously inside. I half expected him to step out and lunge at me. I expected him to hit me, punch me, and hurt me but he never did because he wasn’t even there. I stepped inside and stared around the room. It smelt of beer and alcohol, it smelt of death and depression.

Take another step.

 The curtains were drawn but I could see the king size bed in the center with stains and the huge floor length mirror. This was the best room with its pale purple walls and soft plush carpet. I squeezed my toes and closed my eyes as I basked in the presence of the room. When I opened my eyes tears were already slipping out and falling to the floor. I quickly wiped them away and walked towards the window where I cracked it open to get rid of the stifling alcoholic stench. I stared at the bright moon which winked mockingly from above and leaned my forehead against the cool glass.    

Pain. So much pain that I could hardly breathe

Tears. Tears were falling and damping my bloodied clothes as I screamed.

Glass jabbed into my side and pierced my skin.

Blood.

Amber.

Cold.

Lights.

I pushed myself off the window and took a deep breath in. The air was cleaner now and more cleansed. I walked towards the bed and slipped under the covers, burying my face in the coarse sheets. It gave me a false feeling of security….

Wails filled the house and two people burst into a room. The lady looked exhausted but alert and the man looked worried. They both peered into the darkness and flicked the switch on to see a tiny five year old girl crying into her arms on the bed. The lady walked to her slowly and knelt in front of the child.

“What’s wrong Winter?” she enquired as she grabbed the child’s face in her palms. “There’s a monster under my bed!” she wailed as tears spilled over her eyes and onto her nightgown. The man came forward and looked under the bed, “no there’s not” he said soothingly. “No there is” she cried, “it’s gone now but I’m scared daddy”.

Her parents looked at each other and her daddy scooped her up and into his strong arms. “Then come sleep with us” he said, “nothing will ever harm you”.

I sniffed the sheets and took in the scent of the man that was known as my father. Even though he had changed completely, I could still smell that faint aftershave he uses and that musty smell of chemicals. I scrunched the sheets in my hands and grabbed the pillow in an even tighter embrace. If I could just try and imagine this was my father I was hugging.

There was something bumpy inside the pillow case and it poked me softly. Carefully I put my hands inside and searched blindly inside for the disturbance. I grasped something cool and hesitantly I withdrew it out. It was a gold cross on a chain….

The boy showed his sister the golden cross which dangled from a sturdy looking golden chain around his neck. It was a simple piece of jewelry but the way the boy wore it made it seem more than it was worth. “Wow” his sister said in amazement, her golden hair falling in her face as she touched it lightly. He puffed out his chest and smiled at his sister. “It’s cool right? And it’s mine”.

I touched the tainted cross lightly and sat up carefully because of the bruising. I took out the picture and scrutinized it to see my brother having it securely around his muscular neck. I traced everyone’s content smile before folding the picture and tucking it back in my ratty bra. Slowly I unclasped the chain and slipped it on, the cool metal falling in-between my breasts. I didn’t know my father had this…

 I laid back and stared at the roof, tracing the cracks with my eyes and letting my fingers brush over the cool metal.

“I want one!” the little girl whined as she stared longingly at the cross. “Maybe when you’re older” the boy said in an attempt to calm his sister. It did nothing but make her angrier. Her ears caught red and her lips pursed as she narrowed her eyes.

“Everybody going to be dead one day, just give them time.” ― Neil Gaiman

Chapter 6:

I woke up with a start; the phone rings the only sound filling the house. I shot out of the bed and stumbled drunkenly to the living room. My hand grabbed blindly at things on the counter before it met the cool surface of the ringing phone. I pressed answer and moved the phone too my ear, glancing at the clock to see it was 3:00 am in the morning.

“Baby you there?” a voice called. I grunted in reply as I passed a hand across my face, trying to get some sort of reality back. “Baby sorry to call so late, but I forgot to tell you that your father’s funeral is in one weeks’ time and I can’t make it…”

 I nearly choked on my saliva when she said she wouldn’t come and kept blabbering useless excuses. I knew the real reason she couldn’t come. It wasn’t for work, or for a business trip, it was because she didn’t want to waste her time. She didn’t even want to see me…

“M-mum I” but by then she had already hung up, her laughter the last I heard. She didn’t even care…

I collapsed onto the stool and gripped the chain tightly around my hand, the tears burning my eyes and the snot glands opening up. I wiped my face hastily with the upside of my palm and bit into my lip. Blood.

There was so much pain that I could hardly breathe

The tears were falling and damping my bloodied clothes as I screamed.

Glass jabbed into my side and pierced my skin.

Blood dripped from the cuts on my body.

Amber.

Cold.

Lights.

I brought my fingers up to my lips and applied pressure to the wound. I felt the moist texture of my lips against my calloused fingers and pulled at the bottom area. I don’t know how long I stayed there, just playing with my lips and staring emptily towards the front, but before long streams of light were hitting the cabinets and golden handles.

I snapped out of it when I felt the urging need to go to the toilet and do my business. I got up and crept across the hall before coming to a stop in front of a door with a cracked ceramic nametag reading ‘toilet’. It was painted faded yellow with sunflowers dotting the corners and leaves swirling around the side. I touched it…

The boy held the paint brush in the air and admired his master piece. “Winter, what ya think?” he asked excitedly to his little sister who sat playing with her dolls. She looked at it and dropped the dolls on the dirt before racing to him. She came to stand next to him and examined the work critically, her chubby face not giving away anything.

The boy was getting nervous and shifted in his shoes. Was it good? He thought. Then a smile broke out on her face and she held his hand in hers. “It’s wonderful…”

I finished my business and now stood in front of the mirror staring at the girl ahead of me. She looked dead. Like death had sucked the life out of her and fed her something sour. Her eyes were miserable as if she were suffering un-known things. I looked away, my eyes downcast as I swung the door open and exited the bathroom. That girl was me.

The mother brushed her daughter’s hair from her face. The girl’s eyes were alight with happiness and her smile was one of a kind. “You’re so pretty” her mother murmured…

I lay on the bed in my parent’s room, my heart was aching and my eyes were burning with fatigue. I shut them tightly and let the fitful sleep consume me.

“Last words are always harder to remember when no one knows that someone's about to die.”―John Green

Chapter 7:

I stood there in my knee length black dress with long sleeves and a red ribbon around the bodice. Mum had sent it in the mail with a boutique of fresh lilies and a card detailing how sorry she was. I knew she wasn’t.

I slipped on the black stockings, letting the fabric glide across my legs. The chain dangled from my neck as I dropped down and took out the photo from my pants pocket. The photo was dangerously creased and wormed out at the edges by the number of times I played with it and held it in my hands. I kissed the faces gently and prayed for divine blessings as I placed it in my bag which I prepared the day before for this outing.

I made my way downstairs and past the pictures hanging from the wall. One was a dagger of silver while the other was a ship encased in a frame. They were both amazing pieces of art, but why they hung on our walls were always a mystery to me.

Slipping through the great big theater room I stared at the huge screen mounted on the brown wall. The pool table was edged to the side with the soft linen covering it for protection. It was one of my father’s greatest treasures.

The door swung open as I entered the garage, the silver car sitting there lonesome and without a user. It was the thing I would be using to drive to the funeral. Everything was clustered and had a collecting of dust on it as I searched through the countless amounts of shoes for a suitable pair.

After about a few minutes of aimless searching I came across my mother’s old ballet flats. It didn’t look too bad, just a little dirty around the bottom. I slipped them on and signed with relief because it was a perfect fit. Long ago my mother and I would share shoes and sometimes even shirts with each other.

I took the keys out from the bag around my shoulder and opened the door