Heartfelt Words

• Tommiee Truong, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2021

Lurking in pitch-darkness along the hallway like a predator laying in wait for an unsuspecting victim, I felt drawn to the light seeping out from the gap beneath the door. Slumping against the door frame, I rested my head dejectedly against my shoulders. She was in here wasn’t she? Whenever my mother sank into a deep dark hole, I chose to leave her alone in isolation. For I dreaded the moment where she would release all of her subdued emotions, knowing deep down, I wouldn’t be able to withstand her torrents of sorrow. I despised myself for being such a coward. I was weak.

My heart raced with adrenaline at the thought of opening the door. All it would take was one step forward, out of the dark and into the light but my body quivered in shame. I couldn’t help her but the overbearing presence of guilt was looming over me, pressuring me to do the unspeakable.

Come on. Open it. OPEN IT.

Giving in, all I could manage was to slightly pry the door ajar, only leaving an opening large enough for me to peer through. And there she was, facing towards the stove, frozen in time with her back turned towards me. I looked at the digital clock on the countertop beside her. 11:59pm. What was mother doing up so late?

An angry whistle began to permeate the room. It dawned on me that mother was staring at the kettle on the stove but why didn’t she move? The whistle grew more aggressive, taking on a petrified scream.

“Mother?”

The words escaped my mouth but they merely ricocheted off the invisible wall which I placed between us.

“Mother?”

No response.

The kettle now took on a different form. Father. The whistle manifested into a barrage of brutal, heartless swear words. But mother stood her ground. I knew deep down she was protecting me but why hadn’t I done the same? I couldn’t bear the kettle’s violent scolding any longer. Make it stop. Please. Make it stop.

As the clock struck midnight, mother turned around and our gaze connected as though she had heard my silent prayers. The kettle exploded behind her, finally snapping her trance but it was too late. I was too late. I looked into her sad grey eyes as she shrieked in pure terror. The sound startled me, making me back away in fear.

Darkness began to swallow me whole as the faint light of the room grew smaller and smaller until it was snuffed out like a candle wick. I’m sorry mother. I truly am.