Blaire ✔ (Not edited)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

"Like this?" I asked in my juvenile accent as I tried to master the act of securing the fragile instrument on my shoulder.

The melodious laughter of my mom filled my ear. I bit my lip and giggled when she turned the instrument over to the right side while I had kept it on the other way around.

"There." She cooed. I grinned as my eyes widen.

"Okay Okay! What's next?" I urged as I jumped up and down all while I managed to keep the violin intact on my shoulder. My mom smiled at me lovingly as her eye shone, twinkling in her mutual interest.

She bent down and handed the rod. I took in my tiny hands and looked at her in confusion.

She broke a smile and guided me how to play the instrument.

After a hundred mishandles, thousand fails and non- recurring laughter. I finally mastered the art of playing a note.

My mom smiled at her blooming five-year-old with proud.

"I hope you don't forget me, love," she said which made my toddler self, scrunch her face in confusion.

"What?" I asked. She shook her head and broke and smile that never reached her eyes.

The big fat tear ran down my crimson cheek as I stared at the frame that guarded the picture of me and my mom.

She had me sitting on her lap as she laughed heartedly at the silly faces I made. My sister couldn't have captured a better movement to take the picture.

I let out a soft gasp as I tried to muffle my emerging cries with my palm. The salty tear slid down my face as I shut my eyes shut trying to erase the memory so hard.

I always adored the first time I had learned to play violin from my mom and always treasured it in my heart. But just thinking about that now, made my eyes well up.

I curled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around it, clutching bot my knees and the frame.

I tried to calm myself and swallowed the rising bile. I shut my eyes tight and took a deep breath.

6 years ago, the same day of today, my mom had decided to take her own life.

I still remember that day like the back of my hand. I can never forget it even If I tried hard to.

I had come home from school and plopped on the couch after a long tedious day. As usual, I had recited whatever happened that day from the place I relaxed assuming she was hearing from the kitchen like she usually does.

She wasn't like a typical mom. She was practically my best friend. I told almost everything to her. And that's what pesters me most. Not only did she take her own life, the memories we had, died along with her.

When I didn't get a response. I went around the house with a frown looking for her. And finally, when I made it to her room, the last thing that I expected was seeing her blood-stained body laying lifeless on the ground beside her bed with a sharp knife clutched in her hand.

I stayed paralyzed in my place as I let the situation let in. After a few dreading seconds, I ran to her limp form and hugged her tight as I let the tears out. Blood almost immediately stained me along.

The stained Skin could be washed away, but the trauma of the experience still haunts me to this day.

A knock almost as soft as a ghost's whisper wakes me up from my dispute thoughts. I looked the door with a scowl.