Written by: Zahra Daya Graphics by: Krisha Konchadi My breath wheezes as I climb the steps to see why he hasn’t come down for breakfast yet. I stand outside of his door and knock, my ears trained to wait for the “Come in.” My ears strain as all that meets them is silence. Frowning, I push open the door. I open my mouth, bombarding questions flying through my mind. I shut my mouth. I halt in my tracks, my blood turning icy. Glass. Everywhere. I spot flecks of blood embellishing fragments of glass scattered throughout the room. We’re twenty storey’s high - there’s no way… A tremor slides down my back, a fragment of glass catching a ray of sunlight, drowning my world in gold for a few moments. A dream. Must be a dream. I pinch myself, praying, willing, to wake up from this nightmare. I still stand in his doorway, staring at my son’s own suicide. I can’t make myself look out the broken window. Wildly, I stare around the room, as if he’s merely hiding under his bed, just waiting to jump out. In the midst of it all, I find myself on the floor, staring glassy-eyed at an abandoned noose that had been left in the corner. I embrace it and rock it on my chest, endeavoring to comfort this unexplained hole of emptiness within me. Layout by: Krisha Konchadi
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