After you caused the crash that left your son in a coma, you turn to the bottle and start falling apart. One day you come out of a drunken haze just long enough to hear your ex-wife on your voicemail, "I've been calling you all week. Today, we're taking him off life-support."
Submitted by Jibberling
This one caught my interest mostly because of the harsh setting. It's already gone to hell and it's up to the writer to decide what happens next. I thought a bit how I should write it, if I should make a happy ending or if it could become anecdotal but after a bit of a struggle I simply started to write in the first-person view how the father feels and just continued from there.
➖➖➖
It’s all hazy, but that’s how it should be. Hazy and misty are what I want. If it turns clearer I will start to see things more precise again. I don’t want that.
I like it here in this unfocused place, where I can’t see the sharpness of the world.
I don’t want to see the eyes of Oliver widen as our car gets closer to the other vehicle when it gets too close.
I don’t want to see Oliver in the bed, like he was sleeping only if the tubes and apparatus weren't attached to him.
I don’t want to hear the heart monitors tone followed by a heavy silence which repeats endlessly.
I don’t want to see the eyes of the doctor and nurse looking at me.
I don’t want to remember.
The numbness feels good. The dizziness is great.
I want to stay here.
Ring, Ring
Somewhere far away, I hear the sound of my cellphone. It sounds like it’s in the other room. I reach forward with my right arm towards the sound only to topple the chair and fall face first on the floor. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.
I got up slowly and headed once again towards the sound, but when I finally reached the cellphone the sound stopped. Squinting with my eyes I see the name of my ex-wife on the missed call. Before I even manage to call back I get a notification of voicemail.
I pick up the phone towards my ear while shutting my other ear to remove the banging sound inside my head. But it didn’t work.
“I’ve been calling you all week. Today, we’re taking him off life support,” said a cool female voice from the other side.
The sound of her voice was clear. The message was clear. Oliver won’t be sleeping on the bed anymore.
I throw the phone away. It was too sharp.
Tears starts to well up and I head towards the kitchen to dull my mind. To make it hazier before it becomes too sharp again.
Before it hurts again.
I like it here in this unfocused place, where I can’t see the sharpness of the world.
I don’t want to see the eyes of Oliver widen as our car gets closer to the other vehicle when it gets too close.
I don’t want to see Oliver in the bed, like he was sleeping only if the tubes and apparatus weren't attached to him.
I don’t want to hear the heart monitors tone followed by a heavy silence which repeats endlessly.
I don’t want to see the eyes of the doctor and nurse looking at me.
I don’t want to remember.
The numbness feels good. The dizziness is great.
I want to stay here.
Ring, Ring
Somewhere far away, I hear the sound of my cellphone. It sounds like it’s in the other room. I reach forward with my right arm towards the sound only to topple the chair and fall face first on the floor. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.
I got up slowly and headed once again towards the sound, but when I finally reached the cellphone the sound stopped. Squinting with my eyes I see the name of my ex-wife on the missed call. Before I even manage to call back I get a notification of voicemail.
I pick up the phone towards my ear while shutting my other ear to remove the banging sound inside my head. But it didn’t work.
“I’ve been calling you all week. Today, we’re taking him off life support,” said a cool female voice from the other side.
The sound of her voice was clear. The message was clear. Oliver won’t be sleeping on the bed anymore.
I throw the phone away. It was too sharp.
Tears starts to well up and I head towards the kitchen to dull my mind. To make it hazier before it becomes too sharp again.
Before it hurts again.
No comments:
Post a Comment