A Daughter's Letter

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

I have a stone heart.
That was what you told me during my 7th years of living.

A DAUGHTER’S LETTER

 

I have a stone heart.

That was what you told me during my 7th years of living.

Hard and unmoving, unaffected by everything around her.

But has it been 18 years since then? Seems like in all those years, I only remember those things. However, I do not need to remember it anymore. Instead, you can have everything back. Your freedom, judgement, all your past actions. Then, you will understand my present actions.

My dearest one, I never wish to be born.

But you and that man brought me into a life that was too colourful to grasp for a child. A life that brought patches of discolouration on my skins. One that always kept me on my toes every time we were in the same room. The life that constantly made me wish the knife on my hand was sharper.

I thought by being an adult these problems would cease to exist. Your hands did stay longer on your side rather than on my face. Yet it was too soon to be hopeful. Even with such an adult appearance, the days where the mind would choose to playback still there. In my prime, they were never to catch the end of my shadow—as harmless as a tiny mouse. But people in the past never expected the plague brought by rodents, did they? Then, I have come to be reminded. Once again, my body remembered the harsh blow from your palm. The stuffiness of my nose and seeing blur while my mouth gasping for air between the hiccups. The heart you spoke highly of, screeching and clawing my insides every time you pulled me high into the air, only to smack me hard into the sofa.

It is suffocating.

As if all those years I have spent growing means nothing. That after all, I am still the same little girl that flinches every time your blood thirsty eyes bore holes into my soul. That in your eyes, the fact that I was born to be your prey remained unchanging for eternity. You told me I have a heart of stone. But you never told me to have a body of stone to endure all of this. On days where your anger left you blind, I would beg you to stop. I was not always as quiet as you thought. I would beg over and over, shielding my face with my arms, hoping that you would stop. But you never did. Instead, you were smiling. Seemingly entertained by the pathetic act I pulled. Then I know for sure that I am never your daughter.

Despite that, I believe that every action has its reason.

And I know why you end up like this.

The man you refer as your husband, is one of disloyal and two-faced. He always brings many goods home, spending millions over millions not knowing that it is not him who has to pay. When in the end the gifts are only a distraction to hide another life he secretly grows. You would tell us that he was working late every time he was not home. Trying hard to maintain a good family image for your children. But like how I would beg you to stop hurting me, there are days where the stress took over you. The three of us were still children. But our oldest is the bravest and the most responsible. When you were busy neglecting us, gulping down many pills as you could to overdose and that man left us alone without any care in the world, our older brother took care of us. But it was not enough for you. The image of your small children scurrying over to the kitchen to feed themselves because you could not do it, would not do to stop you. Rather, you tried another way by drinking rat poison. And you failed again.

Then, did you stop trying to commit suicide?

Yes.

But did you finally find a solution to end this conflict?

No.

You decided to stay in this marriage for the sake of your children: to have a father figure. But was it really for the sake of your children? The same children who got hit harsher by you every time that man went home drunk or with a lipstick stain on his shirt? The same children you often compared to that man every time we accidently did something wrong. The father figure you told us to seek was fictional.

What you have been through was harsh.

But does it make the wrong in your actions into right?

If I murder the two of you because you two ruined my life,

Is it a justified action?

No.

Every day, I would look through the window. Wondering how long I will last until your next tantrum begin. And what names you will call me this time. I feel so lost. The things I used to enjoy are not as exciting anymore. Even working is something I do to satiate your anger, as money is the only language you speak. Then, what do I live for? The world…has become so bleak.

An idea comes into my mind.

Money is something I have, but this is not something that I can do alone. And I need to do it fast. As fast as possible before I begin to doubt myself again. To escape your controlling gaze, I took my siblings out for dinner to discuss the matter. I have expected them to be angry, but they were furious, calling me stupid and telling me to think again. But my plan has been set. From the start, there was no room for negotiation. It was strange how calm I was. My older brother told me that it was a quick escape that solve nothing. That it was the way of the cowardice. But I did not care. I had enough. There was no hope for me. To keep doing all of these for just another week…I, I rather quit. I guess we are similar in that part. You and me. Afraid of changes and at the end of the story, we are just another egocentric jerk.  

It was the first time I saw brother crumbling into tears. Even my little sister was begging me to reconsider. A part of me felt the weight of an even bigger burden placed on my decision, trying to shake my choices. Yet they knew that this was a choice I consciously made. Their genes may be belonged to those inhumane and crooked, but my siblings are human at most. Although my cowardice and inability will scar them, they will do well to respect their sister’s final wish.

To plan for my funeral.

I have bought some pills with high dosage the other day. If they bring an immediate result, my body would be arriving at the hospital in the morning. I have told my brother that a day or two in funeral home will be enough for my friends to visit for the last time, but I let him decide if he thinks it was necessary to add more. The money in my accounts should be enough to cover for additional expenses since I already booked a burial plot with my sister three days ago. However, I wish they will not spend too much for my funeral. I am much happier if they can use it for themselves. At least I want to buy them some nice hot meal for everything they have done for me.

And you, my dearest.

I must say, you are correct in one thing. When I get my salary, you always seem so happy taking it out of my hand and spending it on things we do not need. Now I understand that feeling. My last purchase really brings me happiness. There are a lot of things that money can do. Let us see…for example, there was no need for you to exhaust yourself by going to my funeral or visiting my grave. I have arranged with my siblings so that the funeral home and memorial park blacklisted you and that man in their visitor lists. Under no circumstances.

So, you better save those prayers for yourselves. You must have thought too highly of yourself if you think I want anything from you. When I am alive, a single glance at your face makes my stomach hurl, so be sure to live a long and healthy life. I do not want to see your face down here too. At least, not anytime soon.

And do not bother my siblings too much. The idea of coming to you disgust me and seem to be too much of unnecessary work. However, I will not have second thought if you do. If you cannot treat them as your children, treat them as another human being. That is, if you are still human. It, it is ironic that this is what my life has become…I have never achieved my dreams. What of my siblings and friends? But this is the right choice. Before I come to be another monster that hurt others. Before I lose the rest of my sanity. Do not let this happen for the second time.

This is your only chance.

To live better.

 

Love,

 

Julian Grant


Submitted: January 09, 2021

© Copyright 2021 vi.anda. All rights reserved.

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