The Day She Left Me
The Day She Left Me sad stories
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agirlandapen
agirlandapeneverybody has a story, what's yours?
Autoplay OFF  •  8 months ago
I remember when I was just a little girl my mother would bring me down to the park with a loaf of bread and a bright smile. We would stand by the "Don't Feed Wildlife" sign and sprinkle the crumbs around it, laughing in spite of ourselves.

The Day She Left Me

I remember when I was just a little girl my mother would bring me down to the park with a loaf of bread and a bright smile.

We would stand by the "Don't Feed Wildlife" sign and sprinkle the crumbs around it, laughing in spite of ourselves.

The ducks would waddle up to us, cautiously grabbing the crumbs in their beaks.

I remember in 3rd grade lying in her warm bed,

her arm wrapped around me as I sobbed over the heartbreaking tale of "The Lion King" and her saying in the soft gentle manner she always used "Ella, the movie isn't over yet.

Every story has a happy ending" as she brushed my hair, the color of a ravens feather out of my face.

I still remember the first day of 6th grade, her following me to the bus stop and watching me safely board even though she KNEW I could do it myself.

But the happy memories have always been the ones that hurt the most. Today was the anniversary of the day she left. One year ago today. Christmas. My favorite holiday.

I remember the snow hitting the window and the sound of yelling. My mother's soft voice becoming loud and my father's loud voice becoming louder.

A pan clattered and careful footsteps came up the stairs as if trying not to wake me.

Did she really believe the yelling didn't? I remember hearing the drawers in my parent's room slammed open and things being thrown about the floor.

Suitcases packed and paintings stripped from the walls leaving the house tasteless and lonely. I remember my door creaking open and my mother.

My beautiful mother's tear-stained face and puffy eyes crouching before me. "I love you my Ella" She had whispered, tucking her raven hair behind her ear.

I held onto her, trying to keep her here. Trying to tell her how much I needed her. Her hand, covered in bruises lifted mine from her shirt and held it. "Ella, " She had whispered.

I listened to the suitcase bump down the stairs and the snow quietly patting against the window.

With the happy memories fading, and the connection to her being torn apart by my father I am angrier than I have ever been.

What did I do wrong? Why won't my mother come back to me? Why did my best friend need to leave me? I feed the ducks sometimes. Not every story has a happy ending.

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