Tag Archives: horror story

Yes, it was me.

[Trigger warning… for all parents]

Kat, why? Just why?

You could have told me. I loved you; I would have understood. At any point – I would have understood it and I would have accepted you, but not like this.

Yes, it was me.

You know how much we wanted her. She was ours; our love, our hope, our everything. After all these years of trying, she would have been our love – but it’s okay. This wasn’t your fault. I forgive you, I know you didn’t want to do it. I know you didn’t mean to. You just loved her too much. It could have been me too; me too.

You were the best mother in the world, and you knew it. No mother can feel as much love as you felt. That’s why it was so hard. And I know how much you wanted her; how much you wanted to protect her. She was too pale and the doctor said she was sick and that she would need constant care and that we had to call if she would cough or have trouble breathing or if she would spasm or something along that line.

Really, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have allowed you to stay alone with her for so long. No one can stay awake for that long. I knew you told me to stay away and that you were okay and that a mother should watch her child and that I would never be able to calm her down like you did, but you could at least have allowed me to try.

Why didn’t you allow me to try?

And why did you not tell me when it happened?

I was hurt, you know? I was hurt that you didn’t allow me to touch her anymore. I understood, because of what the doctor said about her immune system, but I too wanted to touch her. But you could have told me back then, when I knocked on the door on the second day, rather than to just scream at me to go away. Continue reading

He was always there

Tyler entered my life as if he had always been there; it was almost surreal, the way he came and approached me and made a joke and the next and the next and I couldn’t stop laughing. There was a second date, then a third, and I knew that there would be no one else, ever, that could be like him.

His smell made me think of home. His voice made me calm and relaxed. His hobbies were like mine and he care about all those little, weird things that I cared about.

He was not my type physically, but no matter if you are man or woman – someday you will find that the physical doesn’t matter and that there is an attraction deeper than the physical, an attraction that you can neither stop nor increase, an attraction that just lives like a silent flame in the basement right below your heart. It got warm, hot even, when he came closer. His touch made me tingle, his words made me bite my lips.

Like a little girl, a fifteen or sixteen year old, in love for the first time; that’s what I felt like. That’s what I was. Mentally and emotionally reduced to the level of an early teen. I was there for him, and only for him. Continue reading