This post is part of a series where I write fiction. This is an exercise for myself. To lose the fear of writing and to give life to the fictional characters on my head. Please don’t be too harsh on the comment section, I’m not a novelist. I’m simply challenging myself.
The first chapter is here
We didn’t talk about this night for months. I think that we all shut down. We were no longer a happy family. We were broken. We were like robots. We just followed a routine. Every day exactly like the previous one. We barely talked. Whenever we talked, voices raised. It was asphyxiating. We were alive, but we didn’t live.
My grandpa was angry and moody. You could see in his eyes how heartbroken he was. He felt betrayed.
My grandma used to say: The older, the bolder. Meaning that as you age, you should fight for your beliefs with more strength than ever as time is running out. Well, I felt like my time had run out, but I was still a kid. She had taken my future away, she had stolen our family from us. I wanted to confront her. To ask her if all this had been worthy. I guess I will never know the answer. My way to cope was destructive. Self-harm was the only way I could find some relieve. I couldn’t talk to my parents or my siblings, certainly, I couldn’t talk to any friend. We were pariahs.
Everybody was to afraid to be seen with us. I don’t blame them. If it weren’t for my parent’s professions, if their skills weren’t so valuable to the system, we wouldn’t be here today. The only ones who knocked our doors were those desperate enough, those who had nothing to lose and to those, we couldn’t open the door. We had nothing to offer.
Jacob, my brother, dived himself in books. He was reading constantly. He read grandpa’s books, dad’s books and every book he had on hand. The only books he didn’t read we grandma’s. They were mine to read, as if reading about anatomy or botanical herbs could help me understand why she did what she did.
We never heard from Amy, grandma’s assistant, ever again. There were rumours about her but nothing was sure. Dad couldn’t confirm anything. He was sent to fulfil a new position in a different city. We barely heard any news from him. This demotion meant more working hours and a tedious job.
Mom’s security level was revised too. Due to her knowledge of weather engineering, she couldn’t be substituted. So, she was asked to remain on the facilities and was escorted at every moment. She was missing home desperately, wanting to mourn her mother, be with her father and children.
This situation would last six months. After which grandma’s case would be re-evaluated. We would be re-evaluated. I remember this six months so vividly. We were under so much pressure. We had to pass the evaluation with flying colours or else…
The Last Snowy winter was first published at Olisunsolicitedadvice.blog