[ WP ] ... and that 's how I got these scars .

It was an early and eery morning in the home. I woke up just a few minutes before the phone call. It was as if i expected something to go wrong. A sense of feeling that pulled on my skin from the inside. An emotion that pricked me and woke me up. When it did, I still was n't ready for it. 
 
 
 In a phone conversation, your mother she screamed and poured out her words in gargles and wails. I did n't quite make out the conversation, but I got the gist of it. It was my father. He was in trouble. He was breathing his last and I was over an hour away. In a haste, I jumped in my car and sped through the yellow and white lines on the road. It seemed as if I drove on padded wheels. The feeling it was overwhelming and unbearable. The screams and piercing coughs in the background they haunted me. But I drove. And I made my way home. 
 
 
 Upon reaching the door, I saw the television screen behind the curtains. The window shades they dropped. It smelled like death and ugliness. It looked like a dark whisper inside. I felt defeated and heartless. On the bed, a lifeless corpse with a decisive look in its eyes. 
 
 
 I am still tormented. And that's how I got these scars. 

