The Stories Of Those Around Us

Black's POV

When I reached 8 years old, I realized that I wasn't normal. Everything around me turned grey. The sky, the trees, the people, everything lost its color, and with it, I lost my emotions.

I used to stay inside my room for days, refusing to go out, refusing to see what the world looked like. I didn't want to look at everything I lost, but even when I wanted to feel sad, I felt nothing. I felt numb. 

My parents took me to countless doctors, but none of them knew what was wrong with me. It was like I developed a whole new illness unknown to man. I thought there was no more hope for me. I thought there was nothing I could do anymore, but when I reached the 7th grade, it felt like everything started to change again. 

After what felt like an eternity in my colorless world, I could somehow see colors again because of the people I met. I had a group of friends that I spent almost everyday with. I was finally happy. I felt normal, but even that didn't last long. They lost their colors, and again, along with it, my emotions. 

I transferred schools again, and I was back to my colorless world. My parents were growing restless. They became more and more stressed as the days went on, but they never blamed me for any of it. Instead, they blamed each other. 

"Why couldn't you find a doctor?"

"What are you doing with your time?"

"Why do you never talk to him?"

Their fights became even worse. Every single night, they would scream at each other, blaming each other for not being able to do anything. They were helpless, and so was I. There was nothing any of us could do to fix what was happening to me.

I was tearing our family apart. If only I were gone, then mom and dad could be happy again. They could try for another kid, and this time, it might be normal. They'll become a happy family. If only I died... 

But God is cruel. Instead of granting my wish, he decided to play around with it instead. One night, the fighting got so bad, to the point that my dad hit my mom. My dad immediately realized what he did, then left for the night. The following morning, we were expecting him to come back, but he never did. 

The police said while he was driving, a drunk driver came from nowhere and hit his car. He was killed on impact, but the drunk driver survived.

When I heard the news, I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. My mom denied that my dad died. She kept fighting the police to take the news back. She wanted them to say that he was just recovering in the hospital, but they couldn't. Every night, she'd wait for my dad by the door, expecting everything that happened to be some elaborate, twisted joke, but it wasn't. 

During the morning, she'd have cried herself to sleep on the couch. Since she wasn't feeling well anymore, I took over the housework. I didn't have a life outside of home, so I could dedicate my time to taking care of her. 

A few weeks after my dad died, my aunt came to visit. When she saw the state my mom was in, she started helping out too. It was a big load off of my shoulders, but that just meant I became less busy. I had less things to occupy my mind during the times I'm not doing anything. 

It was a rainy day when it happened. My aunt wanted to take my mom to my grandma's house. I've never met her, but my aunt said she'd take me to her next time. For now, she just wanted to take my mom there so she could talk with my grandma. It'll be for closure, since it seems like my mom's been blaming herself for my dad's death, so I told them to just be careful. 

As I fell asleep, I dreamt a horrible dream of a thunderstorm. I was walking around a road that seemed to lead to nowhere, and the more I moved forward, the more unsettled I felt. 

Finally, I reached the end of the road, and my heart dropped. On the side of the road was my aunt's car, wrecked and smoking as it looked like it just crashed into a tree. I immediately ran towards it, and the only person I could see was my aunt. My mom was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, I felt someone touch my shoulder, and just when I was about to turn around, I woke up. I felt relieved that it was a dream, but that relief was short-lived. 

My phone rang, and the moment I answered it, my heart dropped. My aunt and my mom got into a car accident since the road was slippery. My aunt survived, but my mom died from blood loss. 

I was alone. 

I asked God to kill me, but he decided to do the exact opposite and kill the ones I loved instead. He's cruel. I just wanted everybody to be happy. I was okay with sacrificing myself, and yet, why did this happen? 

Life is a cruel game, and so is its game master. 

The next day, I went to the hospital my aunt was admitted to. I've hated hospitals for as long as I can remember. I've had to visit countless times just to figure out what my illness could be, but again, everything was for naught. 

When I got to her room, I put my hand on the doorknob. At the time, I had mixed feelings. 

"Why did my mom have to die?" I asked myself. "Why couldn't it be her instead?"

It was awful of me to have those thoughts, but the moment I opened the door, I felt something inside of me just burst. 

What welcomed me was a beautiful scene of warm colors, with my aunt in the middle of it. She was staring out of the window, teary-eyed before she turned to look at me. She wiped her eyes and smiled a little. 

I still remember what she said to me first. 

"I'm sorry." She apologized, just before breaking down in tears. 

She kept apologizing for surviving, for being the reason why they left the house in the first place. She felt guilty for being the reason I was the only one left in our family. 

As she apologized, I had this weird feeling in my heart. Instead of being angry at her, I felt relieved. I felt relieved because, finally, I could see colors again.

I immediately ran towards her and gave her a tight hug. All the emotions I've bottled up for years suddenly came all at once. I kept crying, and I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. She was aware of my condition, so all of her guilt turned into relief as she held me in her arms, telling me everything was going to be alright. 

But that happened years ago. When my aunt got discharged, I left the house my family lived in and went to live with her instead. 

I moved in instantly, and it was the start of my new life. A life where I met some of the people I'd be with until the future. A life where I'd find out my purpose for living. A life where I'd meet the person I'd want to spend the rest of my time with. And most importantly, a life where I could fully accept who I was.