I walked cautiously toward the table, needing to confirm it was real. Slowly stretching out my hand, brushing my fingers over every inch of its surface until i was satisfied. So I just have to control my emotions, shouldn't be too hard, right? Just don't show or feel any anger, grief, pain, but happiness should be fine I guess. Not that I feel that very often.
I decided to search the drawers, partly because I had forgotten to do so while preoccupied with the scrolls and partly because i need a distraction. One by one, i opened the drawers . Most were empty. A few held jewels, glittering and beautiful but of no use to me. As i admired one of the gemstones, it slipped from my fingers and tumbled to the floor, rolling toward the table.
She chased after it, but it rolled beneath the wooden drawer. I knelt and reached for it, but the space was too tight. I tried to move it but it was more heavy than I thought. After much pushing and effort it finally moved.
Just as I bent to retrieve the jewel, something caught my attention the floor beneath the wooden drawer sounded... hollow.
Tapping the floorboards around it, i comparing the sounds. I was right—this section was indeed hollow. Running my hand over the wood, I looked for an opening, the panel shifted as i pushed along one edge. With all my strength, I gave it one more shove, and it slid open.
It revealed a small box.
I could hear my heart pounding. What could this be?
Tiny bubbles began floating around the room, oh right emotions . I giggled softly, watching them the bubbles rise, popping a few with my fingers. "So this is what happens when I'm excited," well this isn't so bad.
My attention returned to the box. It was dusty and had a wood like smell. It had a cold feel on my palm. I examined it carefully, turning it over in my hands. Then i noticed a small button underneath. With a deep breath, i pressed it.
Click.
The box was open.
It revealed some old photographs. I went through them one after the other and Aunt was in most of the pictures. It was the first time i saw my aunt with her hair uncovered and just like me, her hair was red. In fact, all the people i had seen in the photo so far had red hair both male and female . I guess I'm not that different after all except from the fact that they all have pale skin.
Wait who... Who is this?
And why does she look just like me?
It's not me is it?
It can't be, my eyes are blue, hers is green?
So who exactly is she? And why is she with aunt?
At the back of the photo the names Anissa and Sabrina where written.
My heart ached. Tears slowly streamed down my eyes. Could this be my mother?
I couldn't control myself, The tears flowed out uncontrollably. I hugged the picture tight, like a child who just received a long-awaited toy. Soon, water began to fill the room slowly.
Why didn't aunt tell me.
Why was this box hidden?
Could I be mistaken?
Taking calm breaths,The water began to dry. I need to know if this is my mother or not, and what better way to confirm than father himself?
That's it I've run long enough, i need answers, an explanation, i have a right to know. I'll sneak in while father was out. I'll search the house thoroughly, there has to be something, that could of help to me.
I'll go get some rest now and tomorrow I'll set out to my father's house.
The next day my mission was set search the house before father gets back. I sat in the living room waiting to hear the loud bang from when he closes the door to leave. Bang, there it is I leave in a few minutes, he needs to get as far as possible before I head in. I rushed over to the place I spent my father's house . The place I spent my entire childhood. Memories of my life here flooded in. Not a single pleasant one. All filled with pain and tears, and the father who hates every being of my existence. Well there is nothing i can do to change it. it's all in the past. The House was the same way i left it scattered and unkept.
I stormed into father's room, a room which i didn't dare to enter before. Going through what little i could as there wasn't much to go through. The place reeked of alcohol with the same sad and depressing gray colour the whole house was painted in. All that could be heard was the sound of dripping water from the broken pipes and the creaking sounds of the wood boards on the floor.
After much searching I finally found a small box inside the wardrobe beneath a pile of dirty faded clothes. Everything else was old, broken or a mess. The box was the only thing that was in good condition, the fact that it was not broken was very much surprising.
What exactly could this box contain that made my destructive father keep it in such good condition?
After some thought I opened the box, swiftly but cautiously. It revealed photos, letters, and a ring.
"Is this, is this Dad?"
The young, handsome, and well-kept man was a sharp contrast to what he was now. The man I called father looked much more aged; he had a bush for a beard and dressed so tackily. The man in the photo looked so full of life and happiness, but my father always looked depressed and worn out. Still, the resemblance was there. This is definitely my father.
Who else could it be?
Now, i need to know what happened to him.
What caused such a happy and kind-looking man to turn out this way?