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The Weight Of Silence

Updated on April 22, 2013

The streets filled with busy pedestrians all in a hurry to avoid the rush hour .People climbing over bodies just to get to the train station hoping to find a seat within the crowded carriages .Meanwhile a flurry of cars parked up behind one another as the traffic grew more. There were many foul words exchanged that day, some led to arguments while others took the more barbaric approach and behaved like street fighters on the congested road. Hearing such foul words in the early hours of the morning wasn't the best way to start the day, but that never stopped you from stuffing your face with a bacon and egg sandwich.

I noticed a homeless guy rummaging through the large crowds begging for anyone to give him some spare change. All he wanted was a cup of tea and yet still, the large crowds kept marching on. He could barely stand on his own two feet; pleading for help but no one replied .I would have given him some spare change but you always told me off for doing so. You always said that “there’s no point in helping the homeless if they can't help themselves". Why you believed such nonsense one will never know.

If it wasn't the homeless you were criticizing then it would be the mail carrier or the builders from across the street. Or even the guy at the counter in the supermarket. You always had to complain, you could never go a day without insulting someone. I still do not know how your friends put up with you, but then again, they do behave like horny adolescent teenagers. Dribbling over women and drinking large amounts of alcohol making silly jokes; which might I add were not that funny... It's no surprise that you got along so well with them.

In fact I do wonder why I even put up with you, but despite your troubled mind and rude outbursts you always made me smile. You had a way with words that would send butterflies to my stomach. Sometimes you wouldn't need to say a word but just look at me, and that was enough to make me fall in love with you all over again.

I still remember that evening when you crept behind Alva and barked like a dog. She looked so terrified. She ran so fast out of the door; you must have given her a heart attack. I could not stop laughing although Alva did not see the funny side of it. It took Alva a of couple weeks to start playing with you again. I'm afraid you were in her bad books for some time. She freezes every time she hears a loud noise but don't feel bad. She will forgive you soon; she's a good cat.

I told the girls at church and they found it funny too. Some of them even had a crush on you, in particular Mrs Wilder Moore. She always commented on what you wore and how your hair looked. Every time you walked past she would mumble something under her breath and quickly cooled herself down. I'd hate to think what would happen if I caught you two sitting at the back of bible studies. Shame on you; you should know better than to entertain that woman. I know you were trying to get me jealous but it never did work. Okay maybe a tiny a bit, but I was never going let you know that.

I guess Mrs Wider Moore was just lonely; her husband was always away on business. Sometimes he would be away for a month and not even call. There was always an excuse with him but Mrs Wilder Moore seemed more than happy to take him back. Maybe it had something to do with all the fancy gifts. The trips to Paris and Japan; Oh she was so pathetic. I felt sorry for her. Her glamorous appearance was nothing more than a disguise. For the pain she had kept hidden for so long slowly began to surface for everyone to see. Behind that powdered face and bold blue eyes was a lonely woman in need of love.

It's no surprise why she always wanted to get your attention, and you always played along like a right old knob. I did warn you about Mrs Wilder Moore but you never did listen. It was like I was talking to a brick wall; stubborn and hard- headed. Never wanting to hear my opinion but was happy to tell the world yours. If I had known that this was going to be part of the package marrying you then I may not have been so eager to say yes.

Although, I was not always the best person to live with .My obsessiveness with cleaning must have driven you up the wall. I adored cleaning but sometimes I would become fixated on scrubbing the same floor over and over until it mirrored my reflection. The dining table had to be decorated ready for entertainment. Cutlery polished and placed in order accompanied by a wine glass trimmed with a gold lining across the rim. You always wondered why I put so much effort into making our home so clean. To be honest it was the thing that kept me sane. I could not stand listening to myself. I was too afraid to revisit those old memories; the scars on my forearm still haunt me to this day.

If only I could feel the same way you do about me. Every time I looked at myself I cried inside, and it's all because of him. He plays with my mind over and over; taunting me. He still has the same chilling voice that forced me to hide underneath my bed when I was a child. Silently weeping into the early hours of the morning; afraid that if he heard me, it would be another day of pulling my hair and screaming at me until I was partly deaf.

When I was five years old he would make me hold the satellite dish until the reception was perfect. His face was always pale but slowly changed when the TV was on. He used to watch my every movement, hoping that I would lose the TV channel.That way he had a reason for punching me in the stomach. I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs but I was so afraid. I could not match his strength; I was this little girl who could barely open a can of beans. How could I possibly stop this huge monster with arms the size of a tank from hitting me?

My mother could not stop him, she tried to calm him down but that never did work. That made him even angrier and the sudden scream of my mother followed us to our beds. That bastard would grab my mother by the hair and pull her across the floor, hoping that she would say something but she wouldn't. She just kept quiet and waited until he sat back down. Then ran to the bathroom to fix her hair and make-up, before me and my sister could get the chance to see the bruises left by his hand print I begged her to leave him and run away but she still believed that she could change him. Make him a better man; that was her biggest mistake.

We did have good times together; Mother had a great sense of humour. We use to play cops and robbers before having tea. Mum would chase us up the stairs and into the living room and then tickled us until we surrendered. All it took was for mother to gently poke my stomach and a surge of laughter came rushing through my lungs ready to explode. We would laugh until we could laugh no more but anxiously await for him to come in and destroy what little fun we had.

I use to dream of killing him, I had it all planned out; The knife I was going to use, where I was going to dump the body. Even the dress I would wear to his funeral. I even wrote a draft copy of the speech I was going to read at the pulpit. It's sickening isn't it?

Knowing that I had become such a monster, embracing the darkness I once feared of and allowing it to consume me. Although I did not commit such a vicious crime I just wanted the pain to stop. I just wanted my dad to leave us alone. Do you know how it feels to have your own father not love you? To look at you with disgust and curse you since the day you were born? Was I so repulsive that he could not bear the thought of being in the same room without hitting me?

I just wanted for him to go away...

I never thought I could trust a man again. I refused to believe that there were any good people left in this world. I still believe that you were an exception and I was lucky to ever meet such a caring person. From the first day we met our eyes drew closer towards one another.It was as if time had stopped and the spotlight was on us. We did not say much that day, but our bodies spoke a language that was unknown to humanity.

I need you to understand that I cannot live without you. You changed my life Robert. All I am asking is that you come home. I can change I promise. What if I was to make you your special meal? Grilled steak with peppers, not to mention crispy chips soaked in duck fat and a smokey barbecue sauce drizzled on the side .I know that must tickle your taste buds.

I'm sorry but I just cannot do this anymore...

It's been three months and the police still cannot find you. They ask these strange questions and I'm not sure what to think of this. They think that someone may want to hurt you. I do not understand why they would think that. Who would want to hurt you? Why do they keep asking me these questions Robert?

Please just call me, I just need to know that you are okay. I'm beginning to think that you may not be found. It's like you disappeared without a trace; coasting through the winds and Invisible to humanity.Your smile was the first thing that greeted me in the morning, followed by a warm hug and a kiss on the lips. Now it's the cracks in the ceiling and the dodgy light bulb that seems to acknowledge me. I do not know what happened to us, I feel like it's me. I wish I knew what I had done which was so bad. It kills me to think that you felt this way.

I feel so stupid writing you this letter, and I doubt if you will ever read this. Some may even say that I am a fool for thinking that you would come back to me, but I love you Robert. I will do anything to have you back.

Just come home...


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    • profile image

      Lee Cloak 

      3 years ago

      Serious stuff Eman, a really good read, very interesting, voted up, Thanks, Lee

    • The original Eman profile imageAUTHOR

      The original Eman 

      5 years ago from london

      Lovedoctor thank you for wonderful comment. You are so right, i do believe that it is hard for a man to be emotional in today's society. Often we are taught to believe that by doing so makes you inferior to one another. Being homeless is an issue i keep very close to my heart. It is a situation that many would not want to be in and yet still, are quick to look down on. I hope my brief imagery can be powerful enough to change people's attitude towards homeless people. Stay in touch

    • profile image


      5 years ago

      Yes, it does affect us all. By my knowledge, men can be emotional creatures too, but society's ideal of the macho man image states that men have to be bold and masculine. I hear you with regards to the way many people judge and treat the homeless. You often hear people saying that they would never give the homeless money because they use the money for drugs; however, it may not be the case for everyone. I've read stories about educated professionals who from one day to the other have become homeless after losing their jobs. Great hub, voted up interesting.

    • The original Eman profile imageAUTHOR

      The original Eman 

      5 years ago from london

      Thank you Franck for taking the time to read this story. I am glad you too was able to feel the emotions running through this piece. Stay in touch my friend.

    • Frank Atanacio profile image

      Frank Atanacio 

      5 years ago from Shelton

      wow this was hard hitting and emtionally packed.. I feel the weight as I read the words.. very well done Eman


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