As I regained my consciousness, my head, my thoughts were blank, not remembering what I should. I knew there was something, but I couldn't get my mind to reach those memories at the boarder of remembering.
I moved to turn on my left side, my eyes still closed, but before I was completely turned over, I bumped into something. Or, rather someone.
"What the hell ..."
At the sound of that voice, my eyes shot open, and I was encountered with plain darkness. But hearing that voice had also triggered my memory and I wished I was able to return to my state of obliviousness from the moment before.
But of course, I couldn't. And there was no way, or use for it to put off the oncoming confrontation. That is when my irrational wishes and desires kicked in and I closed my eyes again, trying to get to my previous state of unknowing, not remembering what I know I must. I never wished to erase the memory, or any memory for that matter, because every memory is a part of our personalities, of our souls and we shouldn't ever want to change who we are. And standing by my believes, I knew I had to remember, I knew I had to know, but I wanted to put the knowing off, because from time to time it is better not to remember, I agree to so much.
I was thirteen when my parents broke up, I don't remember much of it. But what I do remember is the fighting. My parents fought, they broke each other down, they threw so many accusation at each other, they seemed to be shouting to the world what they hadn't dared to say out loud for so many years. It was awful. They never knew I heard anything of what they said, I don't think they ever found out.
We lived in a rather large house, I had the entire third floor to myself and I never left it, not when I knew they were having a fight. They tried to hide it from me, it was not something a child should grow up with, they said. That is the main reason why they moved my room to the third floor. At first it was my parent's place, it's where they used to compose their music. Every piece of it was simply heartbreaking, every composition they made was perfect. You could hear the love dripping from every single note and when they had had a fight, you could hear both their apologies falling from every line - at least, until they got mad and never happy again.
They tried to hide the fights, but sometimes I came down and caught them. Then I tried convincing them that everything would be just right the next day. They always denied that something was seriously wrong, I pretended to believe them and they pretended to believe me. But other times, when I didn't know they were fighting, I'd go for some juice and find them. My mother'd be crying - she was always crying, I still don't know why - while she was throwing angry accusations at my father - her crying seemed to be a natural reaction of her being so very angry.
My father'd then be standing in front of her, sometimes pleading to stop and other times gathering his thoughts to throw something back at her. I saw both my parents cry over what they said to each other and I never got over my nightmares.
These fights were the worst to catch them in, they didn't know I was there and they had no barriers. I always thought most of their accusations were silly, not worth mentioning and they managed to fight over it.
Whenever I had caught them in such a fight, I'd try to leave as fast as possible, but most of the time my feet were glued to the floor and I'd spent minutes gathering my strength to leave. Of course, by then it was too late. They'd have given me enough to ponder over during the night. I cried myself to sleep so many times.
But like every phase of our life, it passed. They finally got divorced and I spent my weekdays with my mother, she didn't have the wanderlust my dad had. My mother stayed in the same town, she rented an apartment close to school. She did this because she had to leave early for work and this way I could sleep in and I could go there by foot. I didn't see her much, the job she practiced was very time consuming and if she worked less - I later discovered - she wouldn't have been able to pay for the both of us.
She was mad with my father. For her, their marriage had fulfilled every dream she'd ever had. And when it ended, she blamed him. She was so mad that it consumed her, she felt like she was trapped in a cage and that like an animal in the zoo, everybody was watching her. She kept going for me, but she was never truly happy again.
I spent the holidays with my father. He was a columnist and in the finer days of their marriage, he was a very good one and he was well paid. However, after the divorce he started to travel, he pursued the dreams he had never been able to let go of.
He wrote about new things, about new cultures and his experiences with native people. It confronted people with their prejudices and his amount of readers got so low that the paper hired someone else. My father didn't mind, though. He said that only when he didn't work under someone he was completely free and that he could finally focus on the things most important to him.
The winters and summers I spent with him, we took off to stranger lands. He'd take me to places he had been and loved. He showed me his view on humanity, he showed me another way to live than I was used to. And before I went to bed, until I reached the age of 18 he would tell me stories. They were stories that dated back from before he met my mother, from after their divorce but never from the time they were married. When I asked him about it, he answered that there were no adventures left to live in marriage. According to him, it was a path walked and chosen so much that there were no secrets left to uncover. It lacked fire, he said. It made sense to me then, and it still does.
I get both my parents' view on the matters that happened, but I still haven't been able to form an opinion myself.
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoyed it.
Please let me know what you think, it is the first story I have ever published so I'm very curious. What was good and what could be better, I'd love to hear your opinion!
Thank you! xxx
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