Ping! Ping! The pills shake in my bottle, as I fish it out of my bag. Unscrewing the cap, I grab a handful and pop each one into my mouth, one by one.

The red ones taste sweet; they have a nice, crunchy, chewy texture. The green ones are bitter. Bitter, bitter, bitter. I take a sip of water and force them down. I never liked the green ones.

The blue ones are nice, a cool minty flavour. It’s like taking a refreshing dip in the pool on a hot summer day. The yellow ones? They’re my favourite; a burst of flavour the moment I bite into them. It’s sweet like a dallop of honey… and then as sour as those yellow-coloured skittles. Well, isn’t that familiar?

I take another sip, swallow them down, and try my best not to reminisce about my childhood. The white ones… they’re always a mystery; a surprise. Some days, they’re bitter. Other days, sweet. Occasionally they’re salty, sour, even spicy. Today, they’re spicy. How lucky I am.

I’m not sure where they came from. I’ve tried thinking about it, tried recalling whence they came. Nothing. Perhaps I should have stopped at some point, just take a break from the mystery pills. Yet, every time I try to, it gets harder to cope. Things stop making sense, the world turns upside down, and I’m no longer on cloud nine. The elation I get from them, the euphoria I had from my time spent with Grandma; all gone.

Ding dong! Doorbell rings. I get up to answer it, knowing that by the time I get there, they’ll already be gone. They always leave. There’s someone there, there has to be. So why won’t they show themselves? I’ve heard it ring, over and over, yet whenever I check, there’s no one there.

Doc says I’m imagining things, the ringing, the voices, the abuse. Why won’t she believe me? Aren’t therapists supposed to listen? She says I have to go for “rehab”, whatever that is. Why doesn’t she get it? I don’t need “rehab”, I need someone to listen to me, to know what I’m feeling, to free me, to help me escape.

Walking out of my room, I head towards the door. I pull on it – doesn’t budge. I pull yet again. It still doesn’t budge. That’s weird, was it always this difficult to open the door? Gathering all my might, I pull. I stumble backwards, but it’s finally opened. I attempt to regain my balance but fall back on my butt. Was falling always this easy? 

my thoughts are interrupted by the person in front of me. the person i havent seen in years. “grandma?” i mutter under my breath, loud enough for only the frail figure in front of me to hear.  “yes, my dear?” she smiles at me, her soft warm smile. “save me… please” with a pleading look in them, my eyes are focused on her, only her. “Mommy and Daddy, theyre… theyre hurting me” i roll up my sleeves, showing her the scars. 

“my dear, my time is up. i cant save you. they can’t save you. only you can save yourself.” she tells me, a pained look marking her features. “what do you mean…?” she kneels in front of me, smiling sadly. i reach out my left hand, wanting to feel her warmth again.

“please, my dear, stop taking-” shes cut off the moment my hand touches her cheek, disappearing in a flash. she leaves behind a trail of bright light which dies out slowly, just like our time spent together. perhaps thats when the pills started, right after she left me. left us.

“grandma?? no. dont go. stay, please… please come back… save me.” a sharp pain shoots through my left arm, and i flinch, retracting it immediately.

the pain… stop moving, itll only end up hurting you more, Daddys voice rings in my head.

Ding dong! The doorbell rings, bringing me back to the present. Rushing to my feet, I reach out for the door handle. With a gentle pull, I come face to face with them. The causes of my pain, my suffering, my despair. 

“Hey!” Daddy says to me as he walks into the house, Mommy following behind him. The sounds of their footsteps on the cold marble floor echoing rhythmically in my mind. Click! Clack! Click! Clack!

The same sounds I heard just this morning…

Click! Clack! Daddy had been pacing outside the house for 5 minutes, waiting for me to find my scissors for Art class. “Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” I heard his sonorous voice yell from my room. “Just a minute!” I yelled back, frantically looking through the pile of stationery on my desk. Pens, highlighters, colour pencils, rulers… yet not a single pair of scissors in sight.

Maybe it’s already in my bag? I rushed to my Barbie pink bag, rapidly fishing out my pencil case faster than you could say “Don’t do drugs, stay in school.”

Hurriedly, I unzipped it and peeked inside. More pens, highlighters, colour pencils, rulers… and a pair of scissors? I reached out for it, make sure it’s really there. Happens sometimes, you know? You think you see something, yet blink and it’s gone. Doc called it “hallucinating”, said something about how it’s abnormal, asked me when things I thought I saw started “disappearing”. I think it started after Grandma left… Oh well.

The moment the blade’s cold metal touched my skin, Daddy barged into the room. 

“didnt i tell you to hurry up?” he bellowed; his eyebrows furrowed at me. he eyed the scissors in my hand, the corners of his lips slowly curving up. i gulped and my hand shot back into my pencil case, trying to put the scissors back. too late. as quick as a bolt of lightning, his hand shot out towards mine. 

“ow!” i screeched as his hand latched onto mine, before quickly biting my tongue to stop myself from screaming any further. it would be a shame if Mommy had to walk in to see this… and then join him.

a wicked grin plastered on his face; he held the scissors up in front of me for a few seconds, 3 to be exact, before it began yet again.

i squeezed my eyes shut at the sight of the scissors approaching my arms. i trembled in his grasp, bracing myself for the inevitable. “stop moving, itll only end up hurting you more,” he remarked nonchalantly, like the thought of hurting his only child was an everyday occurrence, which to be fair, kind of was.

he cut. deep. once he was done, he grabbed a tissue and wiped the blood off. he stuffed it into his pocket and left the scissors on the desk, all without uttering a single word. a sigh escaped my lips as I reached into my bag for my first aid kit. 

without much thought, i got the bandages and wrapped them around both arms after applying the antiseptic. sure, it stung like hell, but it would heal faster that way. i stood near my bag, staring at the pair of scissors. i should have dropped art.

“Hey, hurry up or you’ll have to take the bus to school!” Daddy shouted from the doorway. I looked up to find myself on my bed, with the scissors in hand. When did I pick it up? Ah, whatever. Keeping it and hoisting my bag onto my shoulders, I bolted out my room, just as he was about to leave.

“You good?” He asked, eyeing my bandages suspiciously. “Uh… Yeah! Let’s go!” I bit my tongue to restrain myself from confronting him at that moment. Any accusations would just lead to denial, the words “delusional” and “hallucinating” repeated a feel hundred times, and… more pain. Plastered a grin on my face, I bid Mummy goodbye, before leaving with him. The journey continued as normal, with little being said the whole ride, just a “Bye!” when he dropped me off.

That was the last I saw of both, up until now.

I stood rooted to the ground, just gaping in terror at them. Of course they’d act like it hadn’t happened… always did.  “Hey?”  Daddy repeats after not getting a reply”. 

“Are you okay?” Mummy asks, staring at me, her eyes flooded with concern. “Y-yeah, I have to go…” Without giving her a second look, I dash past them and out the door, towards the bridge. In my pocket, the pills rattle with every step. As soon as I’m out of their sight, I fish them out and pop a few in my mouth. The flavours flood me, leaving me momentarily bewildered as to what I’m doing outside.

Soon, I’m back at the overhead bridge Grandma and I use every day. She’d fetch me home every day after school, and we’d walk across this very bridge day after day after day. We’d look at the flowers planted along both sides, take in the air, the view, the scenery. Take in everything. Oh, how happy we were back then. If only she were here right now, if only we were together, if only  she hadn’t left me, if only it were just us…

grandma and i, together forever. 

placing my hands on the railing, i lift myself up. im facing the road, watching the cars whizz by. we used to do that, just watch the cars, and talk. id tell her about school; mention my teachers, classmates, that nice lady at the canteen stall i frequented. 

“so, how was school today?” shed ask. “it was great! today was games day and we won again! i just wish you could have seen when i scored the winning shot in basketball…”

“me too…” she responded with a hint of glee in her voice. i didnt have to turn to look at her to know she was grinning from ear to ear, but did so either way. “grandma… what did you do this time?” reaching into her pocket, she took her phone, tapped the screen a few times, before showing me a video. “i cant believe you snuck in again… at least this time the video isnt blocked by a tree branch or something” i grinned back at her, teasing her about the last time she had snuck into school to video my games, hidden in a shrub, thus leading to most of my plays being missed out. “ill just do it another 2 more times before you graduate, i wont get caught don’t worry” she assured me, before changing the topic to what would happen after i graduated.

shed tell me about her plans. how she wanted to bring me overseas after id graduated. wed go to london, paris, new york, bangkok, hong kong. shed take me anywhere, just the two of us. if only she hadn’t left…

yet maybe it could be. well grandma, this is how it was supposed to be. you and i. always. i inhale a deep breath, very much aware of what im about to do. at least this way, Mummy and Daddy can’t hurt me anymore. this way, ive escaped from this prison. this way… we can finally be reunited.

With a light push, I fall off the bridge, finally escaping the wretched tormenting prison of this oh so cruel reality. Finally, reuniting with Grandma.