Behind Closed Doors

REIZELLE MAE BELLEZA

“Classic humans: blinded by emotions, they couldn’t see who got caught up in their storm— the ones who dealt with the aftermath of torn down houses and fears of what else is to come.“

I’ve had enough for the day. The walk home was begrudgingly slow, but my feet refused to take any steps at a faster pace. Tiredness rests on my bones and lies on my fingertips as I reach for the door knob.

“Thank God, it’s Friday.” I say.

I’ve had enough for the day. With every sound, I feel nothing but my blood rising up. So, I slammed the door behind me shut and moved along —never once batting an eye.

As my room slowly reveals itself, a kid stands by the door.

I trudge past the empty, open cup noodles. I trip from the wayward used clothes. I pushed all the papers aside and slumped head first into bed.

Inch by inch, she lifted the blanket until I could see her whole face. It struck me. It struck me hard. This was the same face I’ve been doing whenever I’d lock myself up in my room, years and years ago.

I’ve seen it from the people I love, by blood and by not. I’ve seen it from the people on the screen, fictional and not. I’ve seen it a thousand times, but never did I get used to it.

Now, I have decided that I won’t ever get used to it.

“Let’s go to Jollibee because school’s done!” She says.

“Let’s watch 3 episodes today!” She says.

“Let’s draw! Let’s paint! Oooooh, let’s dance! Blast some music with the new speakers!---

But sleep didn’t come easy that night. Not that anything did come easy in my life.

Sniffles. Lots of them echoed in the room. It wasn’t loud. No, it was muffled like it’s trying it’s best never to be heard.

I rolled over to see a bump under my blanket. She was there, wrapped from head to toe like it’s a shield, a barrier, a defense.

“Are you mad?”

“I’m not.”

“Is it my fault?”

“It’s not.”

Sweet seven: rattling doors, screaming, broken plates, the silent treatment

Tiptoeing quietly. Biting down the hiccups. Hiding in the corner. Eye on the door.

All because I thought everything was my fault —that their anger and frustrations were caused by me alone.

That wasn’t the case, after all.

We’re just too small to contain what we feel. Classic humans: blinded by emotions, they couldn’t see who got caught up in their storm— the ones who dealt with the aftermath of torn down houses and fears of what else is to come.

”Let’s go to Jollibee because school’s done!” I say.

And as I turned the lights on, she was nowhere to be found. The bump under my blanket was gone. But my stomach growled happily. Okay, maybe she isn’t gone. Seems like, I hadn’t had enough for the day.

“Time to treat myself to dinner.”

With new vigor, I skipped the way out and closed the door—gently, this time.