Fault

• Chelsea Earl, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2019

Some words of advice – if the furniture within a house is broken, and the walls are becoming frail, it is not enough reason to burn the house to the ground. Even architecture goes through lonely, hard times. Instead, repair the ruins and restock the golden goods.

I wish I could apply that to the situations I find myself in. I often do my best to help; in an unwanted way. My encouragement is often ignored, whenever I suggest using stern tones, or physical actions to enhance their communication. Sometimes, I can tell that I am unwanted. Others, it is like I am the centre of attention. I am very rarely around for happy times. I see the fights and the stress; never the resolutions. I have learned much, and seen much, throughout my time in existence. Though, most of my life, I have been hated, avoided and regretful. I loathe my own presence.

Today was no different from the last decade. I watched two people for hours. Their voices filled the room; their daughters’ situation was the main topic. It seemed they were moving, or one of them was. This was how I concluded my advice on repairing what is broken. I could see the lingering sadness in the mother’s eyes, though it was masked well by my own glare. She wanted to fix things and repair the house – with that came their relationship. The house was merely the stitching.

She won because I was on her side. He crumpled once I came to help. But she didn’t thank me. Instead, I was shoved aside and beaten with regret. The resolution was in sight, as she followed my advice, yet, once again, I was not to be involved.

I am the fault in the motherboard of humans. My essence is simple within children, yet complex within adults. The possessive abstraction that exists within all humans. I am everywhere, yet nowhere. I am the rising fire in your throat, the unnecessary trigger, the daggers in your eyes. I am the most effective emotion for progress, so you need not hate me. I am anger, have we met before?