One night, as I walked up the stairflight to my flat, I heard a shrieking voice of a child from below. I froze, contemplating if I should go down and check it out, or just dismiss it. Shrieking kids are aplenty on my block. They play with each other, get annoyed, and just shriek for the fun of it.
I decided on climbing up. As I opened the door to my flat, a commotion gathered on the ground floor. I took a peek, and saw in action as a little girl, hanging on by the edge of the balcony, uncurled her fingers and fell freely to her death with a loud thump.
That night, I downed half a bottle of sleeping pills to forget the look in her eyes as she stared right at me in the final seconds of her life.
She still comes into my dream sometimes.
No comments:
Post a Comment