But it was Silent | Teen Ink

But it was Silent

April 30, 2018
By King.Lysss GOLD, Hemet, California
King.Lysss GOLD, Hemet, California
13 articles 4 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not. -Kurt Cobain

My head's pounding, hearts racing, hands shaking, visions blurry, and my ears ringing. Where am I? The last thing I remember is taking my father to the airport… I never wanted him to leave, my mom did. I’m terrified that he will abandon me like his mother had done to him. He had hugged me like I was a little girl again, said he loved me and smiled his infamous smile which I had always taken comfort in, but it hadn’t comforted me this time. I watched him walk away and board his plane, only a single burning tear had fallen from my right eye. Then the rest is a blank, why can’t I remember? As I gathered my thoughts together my vision slowly but surely had come back to me. I look around, I’m in an empty field, the only thing I can see is dead grass for what seems like forever. I try to yell out for help but I can’t speak, not a noise leaves from my chapped lips. I see a plane above me, I wave frantically trying to catch their attention. But I can’t hear the loud rumbling of the plane. I turn around to look for something to signal them and buried in between the dull blades of grass I see a broken piece of glass. As I bend down to pick it up, in the reflection I see the plane coming down as fast as lighting, I turn around in horror as the plane lands less than 20 feet away from my paralyzed stance. But it is silent. Without thinking I run to the deceased machinery looking for anyone to help. I bust through the door to find no living bodies, I sink to my knees. I set my hand on the floor and feel a heavy paper with a satin-like finish. I open my tear filled eyes and look at this photograph only to see my father carrying my sister and I in our pajamas when we were young as we all had a cheesy smile on our faces painted across the photo. Realization hits me like a backhanded slap to my cheek. I look around frantically only to see my father to my right in a row all by himself, with no movement. I move as fast as humanly possible to his side, trying to open his eyes, screaming my lungs out in hopes of a response. But it is silent. I pull him into my lap, clutching on to him refusing to let go as hot tears run down my face relentlessly. I put pressure on his wounds, screaming for someone, anyone to help. But it is silent. With my blood tainted hands, I lift his head feeling his beard tickle my fingertips attempting to speak through my tears. But it is silent. I hold him while the burning in my throat continues as I try to scream and cry. In a cold sweat, I wake up from a nightmare that has decided to be the star of my dreams for weeks now. Today was the day. I stand up on my feet and make my way to my bathroom beginning to brush my teeth and wash my face. I decide against makeup today and put on a simple black A-line dress and pair it with a classic black pump. I drive to my destination, with no sounds to distract me from my racing mind. I enter the eerily calm office, turning to the woman at the desk asking for directions. When I walk through the door every bit of conversation comes to a halt. After a few sneaked drinks, too many insincere apologies, and an excessive amount of pity smiles I walk out to the grass looking for it. When I spot it, I walk gingerly to the tombstone almost afraid. It had a perfect inscription of his name and dates. Under was my description that read, “ A loving Dad, an honorable son, an understanding husband, a caring friend, and everything someone needs in their lives.” I lay my head against his name crying out asking why he had to leave me, but once again it was silent.

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