Fate's Puppet

All my life,I'd been a puppet, controlled by fate and destiny,twistng and turning my strings , waiting till they would break and crush me into pieaces. Hi, my name is Destiny. Ironic, right?

Growing up, I did not have what most would call a perfect family. I mean I loved them to death and I still do, they are my family. And the love was mutual. My father was an alcoholic, but no, not the violent one. The soft, funny one. In fact I had some of the funniest conversations of my life with him in that state. My dad was like my rock. Yes, he had quite a few flaws but then again who doesn’t? Some flaws just have the ability to be more destructive then others. My father was an incredibly intelligent man, who was very passionate about doing the right thing and standing up for those who were unable to fight for themselves. He hiked up K2, he helped the poor people in Sawaat. Always trying to do the right thing, he was. I think that was his hubris, or fatal flaw. He cared too much about other and too little about himself. Yes I admit he was a little harsh with her at times and a few cruel words were exchanged but anyone who knew him would know that he would give up the world for his daughter. He was always trying to overlook people’s fault and work towards the good. But what he didn’t realize was that good cannot prevail, there has to be balance in this world. I think he knew, secretly, that no matter what he did, how hard he tried to make the world a better pace it would be in vain. But he tried as hard as he could nonetheless. I remember that night where he announced that he would be going to Afghanistan for a few months. I remember the sound my mother’s fork made as it fell on the glistening china as she was in a state of disbelief and horror. Both. At that time Afghanistan was a very violent place, so her reaction was anticipated. But the visa had been made, the packing had been done, all that was needed was our approval which was now the only ammunition my dad need to, as he said, “try and stop this war which would poison our world.”I remember his face as he waved through the taxi window. Little did I know the next time I would see his face would be in a coffin.

Life and death are two very strange things. They say you can’t be dead if you are living, but my experiences contradict that. You don’t need to be physically harmed to be dead, all you need is a broken soul. Smashed into so many pieces, scattered everywhere, impossible to find or join together. My mother and I thought it was just another adventure, he would be gone and back in no time at all. I remember what I was doing at the time the news was delivered to my mother. I was idly sitting around my room, wondering what to occupy myself with. Suddenly I heard a deafening scream. Not a horrified scream like the one in horror movies. It was a heart wrenching, tear jerking scream that sent chills down my spine. I remember my mother standing there, crying, weeping, and slamming the floor with her hands. At that time I was clueless, my only concern was if a robber had broken in. Little did I know my concern wasn’t a silly old robber, the real danger was fate itself. And how does one defeat destiny?

The truth did not sink in until much LATER. How could he be gone? I mean, someone who I just talked to three days ago could not be dead? How can someone who had so much hope and good in those eyes now be cold and lifeless? I was in denial, the truth just wouldn’t sink in. I t was a day later that a memory managed to dig its way under the walls I’d built to separate myself from reality. I remember a Skype call I had with my father, where he said,

“Promise me you’ll fight for all I fought for, promise me that you will always remember me, and promise me that you will become twice the person I ever was. Promise.” He had said, in a relatively serious voice.

“Okay dad, why are you being so emotional? Don’t you have some grey hairs to take care of” I brushed it off.

He laughed a very hollow laugh and said in a fleeting whisper, “Just promise me”

“You are, like, being so weird right now. Anyways I have to go. I love you. ”And with that last sentence I had walked off.

I remember the plate falling from my hands and in a very rushed sequence of events, I was on the floor, the shards of glass surrounding. I thumped my hands on the floor.

“Why did he have to go? How could he do this?”

I remember screaming and crying about how unfair the world was. I remember my mom holding me in her arms just as broken as I was.

The truth had sunk in.

I later figured out why it was that particular conversation which made my walls of denial come crashing down. I t was the last time I had seen him, The last time I had heard his voice, the last time I had heard his laugh and the last time I had had said I love you to him. That caused another fresh wave of tears. It’s like I was bound in these chains of pain and agony, unable to break free. Would I ever be able to break through this chains? The answer was probably no.

And then came the stage of grief where I blamed myself for everything. Why hadn’t I stopped him from going? Why hadn’t I gone with him? It was only later I realized that nothing, not even blaming myself would make him come back. Nothing would. Every day till the funeral passed by in a blur, faces merged together amidst memories and events. I was a lifeless body, much like a robot. I had lost all care. What was the point everyone was going to die anyways? What was the point? Then came the start of my journey towards self-destruction. They say that human beings are capable of being worse than monsters, and I can say from firsthand experience that that is true .No one bothered me in that period of darkness, not even my mother who had enough problems of her own to deal with. And the dreaded day arrived, condolences were given, respects were paid but I couldn’t make myself respond to any of them. My mother however responded to grief in a different way. She kept herself busy with the preparations of the funeral, and greeting the unnecessary amount of people she had invited. When I first found out about this I was blazing with fury.

“Mom, have u seen the guest list? Who designed it? Why are there so many people? For f**k’s sake we don’t even know half of them!” I fumed and slammed the guest list on the kitchen counter where she was busy handling accounts.

“Do not use that kind of language young lady. And as a matter of fact, I was in charge of the guest list, and I felt that it was important to invite everyone to share our burden with.” She was smiling but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. For a second, I felt great anger at dad, anger at the world, anger at my mom at the plain unfairness of it all.

“Dad wouldn’t have wanted this…” I murmured and ran back to my room and stayed there until the funeral. Strangely, I did not cry much on the days leading up to the funeral, I felt numb. Though that may seem good, it was the worst feeling in the world. Because although, you close yourself off to pain and grief, you also close yourself to every other emotion and that is the worst feeling in the whole world. I felt like I was a puppet, being controlled by fate and destiny, my strings being twisted and turned, just to see how long they would last. Not for long, I don’t think, they were already quite worn out. One little turn and twist was all it would take. For some reason, my brain decided to block out the funeral itself, whenever I try to remember there’s this black hole which has sucked every memory of that time and I cannot seem to recall the exact detail no matter how hard I try. They say that sometimes too prevent your body from shutting down due to extreme emotions, your brain blocks out any harmful memories. What I remember is my dad’s face. That was when I lost it. Me, the person who had been numb for days, cried and cried and cried and cried. I sobbed and thrashed around in my mother’s arms as I stared on to my dad’s chalk-white face that was always glowing, his limp hands which were always working on something, his scent of aftershave which was now masked by lilies and roses. I screamed I yelled. This could not be real. I kept shaking my head as if that would make it go away.

“It’s only a nightmare, a nightmare! “ I desperately yelled and close my eyes, I rubbed them hard before opening them again. Undeniably, the scene remained intact. I saw faces all around me, pretend grief layered on their faces.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! NONE OF YOU DO! NONE OF YOU…” I sobbed and fell down on the ground. I t wasn’t an oh-i-didn’t-get-what-I-wanted-on-my-birthday crying, this was a cry of helplessness, desperation, anger, fury, pain. Oh, so much pain.

I knelt at my mother’s feet who herself was barely managing to stay calm. There were tears in her eyes as well.

“DON’T YOU SEE WHATS HAPPENING? THEYRE TAKING HIM AWAY! MAKE THEM STOP MOM … PLEASE JUST MAKE THEM STOP! “My voice broke as I turned around to face my dead.

“Don’t leave, please don’t leave. I need you.” My face had fallen down to a whisper. “Please.” I rubbed my eyes and sat up straight,” I promise I’ll be the best daughter ever. I’ll do whatever you ask me too. Just please don’t go…”I whispered. They started shutting the casket door.

“NO! NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THAT’S MY DAD!” I screamed as two people held me back because I had thrown myself forward.

“DAD! DAD! NO, PLEASE DON’T GO. I’M BEGGGING YOU PLEASE DON’T GO! YOURE AL I HAVE! PLEASE DAD, PLEASE.” I let out a scream as they lowered the coffin and started piling up the dirt. “NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THAT’S MY DAD, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO HIM? THAT’S MY DAD!”I sobbed uncontrollably and fell on the ground, just staring at the grave. No this couldn’t happen, this wasn’t possible. He wasn’t dead, it was all a joke. Yes, it was all a joke. I laughed loudly, tears still sliding down my face like raindrops on a window pane. I laughed louder.

“It was a joke, don’t you all see? He set us up! It’s a prank!” I exclaimed my mascara running down my face and my dress soaked in mud. I look around. Everyone was just looking at with pity filled eyes. ”You don’t believe me…” I laughed almost diabolically, “Well you’ll see... Dad come on. Jokes over, you can come out know, I’ve figured it out! “I looked around again, people were shaking their heads but I remained adamant.

“Fine you all go” I’ll stay here. He’ll probably come when only I’m present.” I sat down, with determination. Someone I think my mom, tried to pull me up but I refused to and just sat there looking at the grave. I think in about half an hour, everyone had gone home. Funny how they had just watched a life end, a family fall into the depths of destruction and all they could think about was their own life or their own family. Figures. Can’t blame them. Enjoy it while you still have it. After a while it started raining, my eyes were still fixated at the grave. To my disappointment, Dad didn’t turn up and yell ‘Surprise! Fooled you!’’ I just don’t understand how somebody so full of joy and hope and good could now be in a coffin under layers of dirt. But I was starting to accept it.

“You’re never coming back…Are you?’’ I questioned the grave, a single tear sliding down my face. And just like that, all my strings broke.

Author's Note

o, what do you think? This is my first sgtory and I'm really nervous. Please tell me what you think and feel free to point out any mistakes :)
xoxo,
Sophie