Your Words Killed me

Skai's dead. Murdered with words from the mouths of her bullies. Read as Skai wakes in a pale blue room with a white room. She watches her life on the screen and relives them through her eyes.


3. My Parents split

I stand still as my mind still lingers on the memory of my mother holding me in my arms. I want to cry again, I want to watch that memory a thousand times, a reminder that I was still loved. The screen flickers lightly again and my head turns in a flash. My eyes craving for more memories, more pieces of my life

The screens shows one image...The picture I drew of my family before the fight. I'm rocked back in time as the memory seems so vivid. I'm looking at the world  from the eyes of my four year old self, trapped in my mind. I don't know if this is reality or if I'm crazy enough to be seeing this. I'm gazing intently with pride at my family portrait, my mum and dad staring up at me from the paper, their crayon coloured hair in a crazy spiral of patterns. I look up and smile as my teacher tells my parents happily about my picture. My nursery teacher was always enthusiastic but now...she was too happy in my opinion. I'm now looking up into my mum's face, she seems happy but her eyes say otherwise. Why didn't I know? Why couldn't I tell what was going on? My dad seems happy too, but there's also a hint of anxiety in his eyes. My four year old self can't tell, she's too busy jumping in glee at her art work. I can't control her, I can't let me know what's going on, I can't make me...her see what happening and it's tearing me apart. I'm standing up now, clutching my mum and dad's hands as we walk out of the classroom into the hallway.

I'm remembering what happened, I can see it over again in my head, It won't stop repeating. She can't see four year old self doesn't know what's about to happen, she doesn't know her life is about to change.  We turn into a corner and my parents drop my tiny hands, my mum looks at my dad with a glare and muffles a cry. She doesn't know whats happening, she wants to go to Pizza Hut and celebrate but her parents stand there, two stone statues staring at each parents stand there. That's when it happens, that's when she walks in, holding her daughter by the hand.

My mum turns, no longer trying to muffle her cries. My four year old self is still stood there, her eyes watching everything that is happening, her innocent eyes watching her mother lose control of herself. My mum is shouting now, screaming in anger at my father and the woman. Her child watching helplessly as her mother is harassed by a girl that she knows mother. My dad is holding me, pulling me into him but I won't allow it. My mother is crying and shouting the same two questions. "Why her?" "Why this slag?" I hate this woman because my mother hates her, I scream loudly as my mother screams. I don't like it, my four year old self doesn't like it, I want myself to stop shouting and close my eyes but the younger me wants to go to Pizza Hut. My dad grabs me by the waist and hauls up, I don't want it so I scream, I shout and I hit him over and over again. I'm screaming mummy while mummy shouts bad words, words my four year old self shouldn't be learning. The little girl is watching me with hatred in her eyes, she screaming at me now. It's at me. She's calling me names and protecting her mother as I was protecting mine. Parents are gathering around the scene now, watching with amazed eyes at this piece of gossip waiting to happen. I hate it, my four year old hates it. She (I) squirms out of dad's arms and runs to her mother, she understands now, understands that her father, the women and her daughter are the enemies, the ones that are making my mother shout. I tug my mothers arms and she carries me and barges her way through the parents, she takes the four year old I am to the car and we drive away. Her red eyes, her tears visible to the public.

I'm rushed back to my reality, my body and soul placed back to the room with the pale blue walls and cold floors. I'm lying on floor, my body in a heap as the tears force their way out of my eyes. The screen is now white, no more images, no more dad or mum on the screen. She's not there anymore, the little girl and her witch of a mother. I don't want anymore memories, they're too painful to watch, too painful to relive. 





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