Why I Hate Writing
"So, tell me about your writing. Any novels published?" He says with a smile. I have been keeping up with a light smile the whole evening, but it drops as soon as he asks about my writing.
He notices and scratches his neck, asking," Are you alright? I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry."
"No, no it's alright. I like writing, I guess, that's why it's on my dating profile."
"But writing is a pain most of the time, scrambling and trying to get ideas, and sometimes it feels like your brain is on fire trying to douse it and find someone who's on fire. Often, I ask myself why I had to like writing out of everything. Like, damn, I could have chosen something cooler-"
"Writing is cool!" He says. I smile and drop it quickly.
"Thanks but when you're a writer, you either look professional and neat or homeless and poor. There's no in-between. I'm the homeless one. I don't know how published authors do it- I don't have any published writing out now. But I know they have a thousand notes on their phones, maybe some random slam poetry or something."
"Do you dislike writing, then?"
"Very much."
"Then what're the good parts?"
"There are no good parts."
"If so, why do you continue writing?"
"I mean, writing is a headache but I bear it. I like it when I go through a hard time since words flow a little easier in those days. I like it when pain turns into something more beautiful. I like it when I get a new idea that consumes me for days, I suppose."
We fall into a comfortable silence.
He asks, "Do you know you're saying all this with a fond voice? You aren't smiling, but you're saying all this with a voice that sounds like you love it despite its flaws."
"Am I?" I say.
Right there, I knew. I am definitely attracted to this man.
I Got You, Darling
[prologue]
I stepped forward, with the plastic bag filled with groceries to the brim, weighting on my fingers like a burden. I silently trodded into the hallway, carefully sliding through rows of plants before getting to my two-floor apartment.
I could hardly see any difference in piles of large pots of wilting leaves to the pavement. crowded near my neighbor's door. I got to my door, eerily quietly staring at me as my footsteps laughed in a slow amusement. I did not know what was behind this door, but as soon as I opened it, the rush of cold air suffocated me. The still air was set into motion.
I instinctively knew something was terribly wrong. My ears rang like the ambulance sirens, and I dropped the bag of groceries onto the floor. The fruits and vegetables spilled carelessly all over it.
I flung open each closed door in timeless rampant, stumbling over the bitten apples from weeks ago and to the last door up the stairs. I hesitated over its door handle before my mother's bedroom. I placed my ear at the door to listen.
I held my scream in when I heard Annie's voice, whispering in a terrifying volume. My mother's words, however, sliced through hers ruthlessly. I told her not to come today! I pushed the door open, half-hoping that Annie did not come over. The room was dark.
It was so dark, but I could see the red wound bleeding mercilessly. I stood rooted to the ground as my eyes begged me to yell and to run for my life. My palms sweated profusely, but I could not care less. The wrinkled hand held the lightest knife. Her smile widened and the only eyes that looked alive in this room were staring into mine.
Her white teeth shined in the moonlight from the only window in the room. She’s an absolute monster. I could not comprehend the frightening sight before me. Annie's dead. My best friend was stabbed by my mother. As soon as it began to sink in, I grabbed her favourite porcelain vase and threw it on the ground.
My mother walked towards me with her expression that morphed into a mask plastered onto her face. She said some words with a calm expression as if nothing was wrong. Nothing has terrified me before, but everything was shaking as if there was an earthquake in this room.
"What are you doing?" Her words threateningly slithered over my neck, as if it is a snake that was about to strangle me. I grabbed the sharpest piece and pointed it at her. I let a cold whimper out, with tears stinging my eyes as I glanced at Annie's body.
"Angel, sweetie--" My mother, the person I knew for my whole life and named me in the hospital never felt like more of a stranger to me.
"Did you kill her?" I asked, my voice clawing from inside out, coming out of my mouth all shaky and rasped.
"Yes, yes I did," she said to my weakened body that felt like it was going to collapse any moment.
"Oh my god. Oh my god, what did you do to her? Why did you do that?" I frantically said as I jabbed my glass piece into the air.
"No, you're getting it all wrong. There's no need for you to be scared. I did this only for us! She was in our way," the woman said.
"What are you even expecting from me? Drop to my knees and say you're my savior? Have you realized that you murdered my best friend? What the fuck is wrong with you?" I screamed, charging towards her. She widened her eyes, about to attack me with the knife, but I shoved the glass piece into her stomach.
"How could you?" I screamed in agony. She cursed under her breath, pushing me away. I was left defenseless with the glass piece far from reach on the floor and out of her stomach.
"Just kill me, just do it already!" I screeched.
"No, Angel, you're my daughter!" The mother said.
"No, you're lying, I was never your daughter! Just kill me, I saw the knife that was about to plunge into me, do it, I dare you!" I shrieked, behind my back, reaching for another broken piece.
"Really now?" She said.
"Yes, kill me! I don't want to live knowing that I lived with a monster for my whole life!" I said, successfully hiding the piece in my pocket without her noticing. The mother glanced at me with a hole in her stomach.
"You did see too much. I thought of how I was going to hide her body and welcome you home. But I wasn't expecting her pretty face to show up early before I finalized my plans, so in a fit of rage at how she contaminated you, I stabbed her. Now, can you please just calm down? You won't turn your mother in prison, would you?" She said, breathless from the pain. She's really crazy. I knew I can't get out of the room, but I got up anyway and ran for my life. I have to report this, I can't--
"I'll kill you!" She dived and pulled my leg backward in the hallway, making me trip. I felt something going through my leg. I looked back and I see that she had thrust her knife into my skin. I yelled, scrambling to push her stubborn dirty hands that held onto my leg.
"Go away!" I screamed out. I punched her face but that was not enough. She pulled the knife off my skin and I bit my lip out of pain, kicking like a limbless mannequin. I'm going to die.
Her dark shadow towered over me, as just as she was about to pierce her knife into me, I got up and jabbed the hidden glass piece into her heart. She fell backward in surprise and tumbled down the stairs as one last finishing blow. Her face, her eyes uncovered to reveal a murderous intense gaze as she fell. My leg gave up on me. It bled relentlessly and the pain was beginning to spread all over my body. The house was silent after a raging war. I crawled over to the top of the stairs, finding the woman's eyes blatantly staring at mine. This time, her rage dissolved and she had a sad smile.
"I love you, angel. I'm happy you killed me," she muttered as her soul dissipated and the life in her eyes went blank. Guilt and confusion washed over me in the ecstasy of my pain. Annie!
I hissed at the pain in my immobile leg. I crawled into the bedroom, around the vase’s broken pieces, and went over to the corpse of my best friend. I started wailing as I seen her eyes, which were so bright before, that became like frozen in its time. I clasped her face, ignoring the sting of my leg as I sat myself up. I hugged her close.
I could hear the sirens coming into life, as gasps and muttering hovered nearer and nearer to the room. A horrified scream took over the whole house as they found the dead body at the stairs and the blood all over the carpet the woman picked out when she was alive. I didn't hear all of that though. I was focused on Annie and her only. I sobbed.
"Why did you have to do this? I told you! I told you to not come here! Why didn't you listen to me?" I howled. All that mattered to me was that Annie was dead.
I lost both of my loved ones just like that. Though my mother was the prime murderer, I painted myself with red on my hands.
It's all my fault. I'm a monster.