Chapter 11

hi everyone! this is author ayhillary informing you guys about the current situation we're in. so basically it looks like chapters 11 and 12 are published first. we still have chapter 10 coming but there seem to be problems regarding the site not syncing with webnovel. so let me tell you, chapter 10 is a flashback chapter to when Hillary Blue is trying to pick out schools.

I told you that to not get confused with chapters 11 and 12 but I ain't spoiling ;p hope you go back to chapter 10 then re-read this chapter to understand it better.

~ayhillary < 3

Chapter 11: The feeling of having to actually hold onto something like this…

I remain to lie on my side on my bed for the past 3 hours since I’ve woken up. The sun has been fully showing itself. Letting its raging rays touch the floor of my bedroom that it might sooner or later just start a fire here. My eyes lounge around the side of my room where the big window is, where the sun is raging, where I look out from to just zone out being fully over my family’s ruckus – mostly my parents.

My eyes pick up the time from my clock that is sitting on my bedside table, literally facing me. It’s 9:30 in the morning. I need to get ready for my exams this coming week. Unwillingly, I lay my back on my bed, use my arms as props to push my body up, and sit on my bed. I lean my back on the bed rest and take some time to think about what I am about to do today.

The first thing to come to my mind is to go get breakfast before everyone wakes up at 10. With that in mind, I take the heavy comforter off of me. With all of my strength mashed together adding my will to get off my bed, I get out of bed and head straight out of my door. As I push my door close, I survey the hallway on my left and right. Doors are closed, with no hint of life anywhere. I take in a deep breath and out, “Bet Ma’s awake to cook for…”

I stop my sentence thinking of the word to describe him, “The person she tied knots with.”

My feet start to take steps and steps down the huge stairs of our house. I slowly make my way down almost memorizing the feeling of holding onto this smooth and solid wooden handrail. As I run my hand on it, the feeling of having to actually hold onto something like this that covers every feeling I have on my hand mesmerizes me. Despite it being an object. I shake my head still not letting go of the handrail and still taking my precious time going down the stairs. “Why am I appreciating this?”

I continue to run my hands on the handrail, not letting even the smallest space possible between my hand and the surface of this, “Warm, solid…”

I reach the last step before the actual floor of our living room. “Comfortable piece. As if knowing something or maybe someone is there, you can hold onto and would make you feel… held.”

The loud rumble and banging snaps me out and snaps my head to the kitchen’s direction. Without knowing what’s happening and with only one definite thought in my head, my whole lower extremities start to work and take me in a flash. I am now standing at the entrance of the kitchen where I pick up the scenery in front of me.

Ma is leaning on the counter’s cabinet on the floor, she has her hands cupping her face, her legs folded like a child frightened of ghosts or its parents shouting here and there. Her shoulders are shaking. Pots, pans, and trays are on the floor, scattered near her. A cupboard’s door is hanging open. That is the cupboard where she puts her favorite pots and pans. Either gift from Pa or her expensive and fancy ones.

My body is frozen in place like my feet are being sunk in the quicksand that is slowly devouring me wholly from my toes to my head. My breathing rapids. I feel like an air pump, as I let out my breaths through my mouth, as I only hear my own breathing.

Like a scene from the movie, from my peripheral vision, a flash of someone passes by me and runs directly towards my mother who is on the floor. My breathing steps on the gas, an area in my chest feels open. Like a hole is punched through it while I try to catch oxygen.

The man holding my Ma looks at me. Worry is covering his face. His eyes are furrow and his mouth is open in agape. But then it starts moving, getting wider and wider as my eyes are only fixed in one direction and I can only pick up his expression since he is holding her.

Suddenly, sounds. Audible and clear sounds of a girl breathing out, “Help.”

It continues, “Help… Help… Please, help.”

The hole in my chest widens. It feels emptier and emptier as I continue to focus on my mother who is now showing her beaten face. Her eyes are as red as fresh blood and swollen. Her nose s as runny as a tap left open. Her face is wet, and there’s a river that continues to flow from her eyes.

Manong Joseph’s voice rings my ears. “Hillary!”

Now, I can hear everything. Now I realize it was me who was asking for help. Help to snap me back here – where I am standing and what I am currently seeing. I can hear my Ma’s unending sobbing, Manong Joseph yelling my name, and even the loud shutting of the door upstairs.

I run towards her and wrap my arms around her. She holds onto me as she continues to dry herself out. Her vulnerable breaking self is now holding onto me—a thread of hope to keep her together, gripping my arm every time she whimpers after suppressing herself. Her sobbing pricks my ears, like how shattering glasses sounds.

My eyes start to sting. I keep my gaze on the blank space as I try to blink it away, I continue to blink it away as she continues to grip my arm when she sobs. As I try and try to blink the stinging away is also the time her sobbing forcefully forces itself in my ears. I hold her tighter, despite the aching feeling on my knees, despite the tears that now escaped, all I can figure out is she’s in pain.

Words suddenly come out from all her sobs, “Why?”

Finally, I look at her. “What do you mean?”

Her hands loosen their grip on my arm, her chest moves up and down as she stutters, “Why d-does it… have to be mine?”

As she finishes her sentence, her whole weight s transferred into mine. I quickly hold her tight, like she’s the most expensive, precious, and salient vase inside this house that has her withered flowers on the floor that have fallen first before her, fully shattering into fragments that couldn’t be put back together.

My eyes meet with Manong Joseph, he rushes to me and picks up my Ma easily away from my hold. His running back is the only view I can pick up. He runs, with her in his hands until I can’t see them anymore. My attention falls onto the fall where most of the pots and pans are not here anymore and are already on the countertops.

I stand up and pick up the remaining trays Manong has left. One by one, I pick them up and put it on the counter, next to her pots and pans. “She doesn’t have a lot.”

My hands reach out to a small red pan. A pan that is perfect to cook pancakes on. Non-stick, cute and just, her favorite pan. “It’s… broken.” The handle snapped from the actual pan. With a deep breath, I put it down and quickly run to back upstairs to my room.

I quickly take a shower, dress up, pack things like my wallet, phone, headset, and keys inside my black sling bag. I lock my room and run out of the house. With a bit of sense of direction, I walk my way to the bus station.

I just get into a bus without looking and knowing where it is taking me. As I get inside, the whole bus is a treat. No single sign of life is inside yet, so I choose the seats that are raised—the back seats. I make myself comfortable at the back, sitting near the window. I put on my headset and turn on my music, in one’s own good time, drowning into it. I slowly close my eyes, lean my head on the seat, and just staying put.

I whisper to myself as things sink in, “I am supposed to be studying but…”

My phone vibrates. I open my eyes and check my phone. A message from Xystal but I am not opening it. I just read it through the notification pop up on my lock screen.

Xystal- Let’s study at a library, I’ll text you the place. See you!

Xystal sent a photo.

After going on an hour and thirty road trip on the bus, I am now taking another bus back to my city. After two hours of commuting with a bus then a taxi, I come face to face with a book with words I don’t think are even my language. Xystal on the other hand, she’s across me and she has her laptop covering her.

I slowly lay my head on the book hoping this would help me get information inside my head or maybe it’s just me losing the willpower to even try and read. I have my head facing my left and that is when I realize my arm has red marks showing a bit.

While still having my head on the book, I lift my sleeves a bit, and there behold Ma’s handprints. It has turned red only suggesting one thing. I speak lowly concluding, “Whatever she was talking about a while ago caused her a lot of pain.”

“That she just wanted to hold onto someone, for support, for help, for security…?”

“But why? What was it?”

“And what… what did I felt before?”

My hand reaches the center of my chest, I grip it like it’s the last thing I would do on earth.