I have forgiven a lot of things
But this I cannot let pass
I can stand the fact that you don’t love me anymore
And this I know
I cannot, however, forgive you
For killing the only thing that keeps a person alive
For killing the HOPE within me.

And then, I say to you.
I HATE YOU.

This she said, as she laid her blood soaked hand against the note she had previously written. The same powerful words she wrote, in a piece of paper she took from the trash. She took it lightly, the warmth of sleep. It called to her, beckoning her to come and lay her tired, cold feet. Inch by inch she crawls to bed, savoring the silent peace slowly coming into her.

And then the blood stopped. She closed her eyes, and never opened them again.

Micaella was born the day the leaves started changing. Her mother, Anna, was a trial mom. She had older children before her, but when you look at her, it looks like this is her firstborn. She was shy, and a bit of a recluse. Her dad, a powerful attorney, was savvy as she was. An ear for talent, a nose for money and a hand that is heavy as a rock. Yet she will not acknowledge that until later in her years.

She grew up sheltered, loved and quite happy. She had a lot of friends, a lot of pets and a lot of free time still. She wrote poetry, quite good poetry for her age, played soccer and scored an above average grading in her private school. She was fine. Was fine.

Anna walked in her daughter’s room. She was so happy seeing her again, having her inside the house. She had always been close to her little baby. She has always felt though, that a part of her little girl was missing inside. Like the time she came home to find her daughter sitting up in the old tree in the backyard, reading. She asked her why she did her reading up there, and her daughter stared at her, and smiled. She said she was reading way up high so that God could hear how the books made her feel.

She went with her mom, to California, when her parents divorced. Life was hard, after being cut off from dad’s money. But dad loved her. She was always well taken cared for. Money, phone calls and birthday gifts. Mom was grieving, little time for her daughter. She understood. From the bottom of her heart she understood. She went on with her life. School was a blast. Excellent grades, extremely popular, an athlete and a student leader. She was always there for her mom and they survived. They began rebuilding their lives. She graduated, with honors. Earning a bachelor’s degree in architecture. Their life was simple, simple yet content.

She met him. One fine day in Harrington Street. She was walking with a college buddy from school. She was curios as to who was her friend talking to as she exited the dressing room. She was trying on a beautiful pair of jeans and a white tee. She came face to face with him. Derrick. There was something about him that made her heart thump. Derrick knew her from school, she didn’t. Funny how life works. He knew her long before she knew him. She was popular, he was not.

She silently opened the door. Eager to see that angelic and mysterious face again. Her daughter who had always been there for her. She knew that. She felt her daughter’s love whenever she came from a tiring day at work.

The door was ajar. A light came on just beyond the foothold. She could smell her daughter’s perfume. She was elated. Her beautiful daughter is home for Christmas. She was so happy.

They hit it off. They never liked the same things. But they learned to cope. They shared the same passion for architecture. They did not share taste tough. It was okay. They fought passionately. They made love expressively. They heard she was pregnant. They already had a name. Alexa. A beautiful name for their daughter to be. They had it all. Until he broke the news. Her wife was coming back. And he was taking her back. And they want to try it again. Reason? He felt guilty, falling in love with her. That he knew she was much stronger than the wife. That she could handle the break up. He loved her so much, he said to her. But he could never leave his wife. Because her wife was weak. He told her not to hold on. To give up hope in waiting for him. He never realized that in that instant, he broke her unwilling spirit to pieces. Don’t wait for me, give up and move on. That’s what he told her. She miscarried before that conversation.

She let out a scream. A scream emanating from the bowels of her soul. She heard her heart break. She saw the blood. She felt the cold, putrid blood in her feet. She found herself kneeling. She found herself kneeling in front of the bed covering her daughter’s blood-clotted wrist with her shaking hands. She was still screaming when they found her. They pulled her away. Tirelessly they tried to yank her away. Mom did not let go. She did not let go. Until she saw what her daughter was holding.

I have forgiven a lot of things
But this I cannot let pass
I can stand the fact that you don’t love me anymore
And this I know
I cannot, however, forgive you
For killing the only thing that keeps a person alive
For killing the HOPE within me.

And then I say to you,
I HATE YOU.

Memories started clotting her brain. Her daughter coming home smiling, hugging her and chatting with her. But now this time she was looking at her daughter’s eyes. Her daughter’s eyes; those were blank. They went to the beach. Her daughter absolutely loved to swim. But this time, she noticed that her daughter swam a few feet further away from the beach than what was usual. She saw the day they ate out. She saw how her daughter flinched, just for a second, after seeing Derrick and his wife before she hugged him.

Derrick was there for the funeral. As with all of her friends. They wore black. Not because she died. But because it was her favorite color. Derrick came alone. The wife and their little girl were left behind. She did not want to see Aunt Mica in a coffin. Ready to be burned, cremated, thrown out into the sea. All of them were crying. All of them except him.

Mom let her go. The ambulance came, silently. No blaring sirens, no police escorts. Just silence that accompanied them to the coroner’s office. Holding her daughter’s blood soaked note, she walked slowly towards the beautiful daughter she once had. Now cold, pale and gray in a metal table. She gripped the note tightly around her hand. Hearing it crunch under the suffocating grip she gave it. She felt failure. She felt death.

She cried that day. She cried for the last time in that room. She called Derrick. Her daughter’s best friend.

He went home. He went home to her wife. He found her asleep. Staring at her, he sat at the edge of the bed. He did not feel like lying down.

He got himself a beer downstairs. A couple of cans later, he heard footsteps. He heard his breath thinning in the air. Her little girl came rushing towards him. Calling him. And hugged him. He told his daughter to go to bed, but before he did that, he hugged her. And told her Alexa, Daddy loves you so much.

He cried that day. He cried in the bathroom. Keeping the water running to drown the sobs escaping under his bearded chin. He crawled to bed, for what seemed like an eternity after crying in the bath. And he hugged his wife.

What is lost when a person stops living? They all realized. A person stops being a human being if HOPE is lost. All good things that come from breathing come from hope. Hope for a new day, hope for another chance, hope for a better life, hopes for tomorrow.

Do not kill hope inside a person’s heart. It will break them. No matter how strong you think they are. They may continue living, but really they died long ago.


SILENCE
A Short Story
Melissa Jade J. Mendiola