Freedom - Fiction

Are we really free? Or it was just an illusion?

Freedom. Freewill. Free choices. Free wall. Free write. Free to speak. Free of our own demons. Free of enslavement.

Today be the own judge of my story. Respond freely. Respond with hate, cries, anything. Be you. Just you.

Trigger warning, content may not be suitable for young audiences. And this article is very long, unlike my other usual article. You have been warned.

Let me start by telling my name. I am Mary.. Most of the neighborhood call me snowy, because I am, pale as white paper, and when I smile, my perfect set of white teeth compliments with my skin color. My hair is long--before, and I can compare it to rapunzel, as I stay most of the time in the house. Kidding. We live under the roof of my father's friend, which I call uncle. My father works at the shop of my Uncle. And what he earn from working, will be used as the payments from my quarterly check-up.

Yes if you would probably notice, the color connections of my skin has something to do with my health. I have a leukemia, guess what stage?. If I have given a choice I would probably be playing under the volleyball field, sweating and maybe cheered by people my age. Not because I didn't want to, but the reason is very evident. I cannot--because, I will end up on the hospital for days. And that won't help my fathers pocket. So thats a no-no. Everyday non stop I wish I wasn't chained by my condition and I wish I have all the freedom most teens has. I still can remember how it all started...

My father was a former chief police officer, he was performing well with his works. Doing the right thing and following what's written in the law while serving the government and the people. But he was shock when one fine day, he was approached by higher officials and offered to hide the truth on a particular case, in return he will be promoted and we'll move in a big house. My Mother being a teased, joke that if he would accept it-- it is a great opportunity-- to live in the house my father have long dreamed. But then, my father being born with a strong faith on justice-declined the offer. He believes that, "All that comes easy, will go away easy and fast". Having the freedom to choose, he choose his conscience over money and dirty promotions. But in the end he was forced to leave the job he studied and love.

And when he thought it was all over. Our house has been raid with many men. I can remember well the instruction of my Mother to hide under the secret cage, under their bed. Instruct me to not make noises and no matter what happen I shouln't go out. I just have to put my two hands to cover my ears. I heard a lot of noises, I heard my Mother screaming and crying saying "No! Please No!" and my father begging them to stop. I heard banging on walls and doors and then a gunshot. I don't remember what happened next, I just found myself in a white ceiling seeing people with face masks and putting lights on my eyes.

After a week I saw our house slowly lose its color. My Mother though smile in front of me, will stare at nowhere, looking very very far. In times like this, my father would catch up with her, though still hurt caused of the gunshot, he will come near her, hug her, will whisper to her, "I love you.", "I'm sorry" on and on and they will both cry. It continues for weeks until, one day I just woke up accepting that my Mother passed away. They didn't tell me why. She's just gone, red marks on her pulse, lipstick on her lips and her eyes were closed. My father cries so bad. But he remains strong for me, specially when the signs of my sickness starts showing, it wasn't severe yet.

My father sell our house and lot and then we moved to my uncle's house and use for my medication. After a lot of things that happened we remain strong. The hurt of the past will forever hunts us, but the determination to forget the things in my mind and heart will be forever beat the darkness. I just wished my father wouldn't be weak to turn himself as the soldier as he is. I hope that a new girl, except me, will accept his scars and will begin a new hope to continue living tomorrow. And it did happened. My wish happen. After 10 years.

And I am very happy, I can already stop myself from fighting, my breathe getting shorter day by day, and I feel relieved when I heard this words coming from my father saying to his new found love "If I lose you too, I don't know if I'd continue living" the one he used to say to me. I feel my body relaxed, I can feel the freedom from it, freedom from the burdened of yesterday. I feel my soul slowly goes up, and I left my body smiling and hearing my father last words for me, "Sleep now honey, I know you're tired". And feel his lips touches my head and drops of liquid coming from his eyes.

Are we really free? It maybe a fiction but, what are the odds? I say freedom is just fiction of our imagination. Our movements are only limited, with reservations and as long as society dictates the rules, freedom in a deep sense is superficial. Are you even free of your own self?

Ending it here!

This is my entry to the prompt challenge by @JonicaBradley. And I challenge you guys to write your own view of freedom, @carisdaneym2 @crimsonowlkk @Ruffa and @Constant1995. Guysss sorry for the tags. I didn't mean to. Haha. Dont forget these notes when writing;

The article should be:

• Anything about Freedom

• 100% original content

• At least 600 words

• And don't forget to tag @JonicaBradley

Also please read the challenge here;

https://read.cash/@JonicaBradley/writing-prompt-1-freedom-23d2b78c

Thank you Miss, for having a challenging topic to write on! And for this site from having to express my mind. I didn't know if I give justice with what I have written about my views of freedom or did I send the message right! Let me know on the comment section below!

Thanks for reading my thoughts and for getting bored! Do I have a future in writing fictions? Hahaha I know I don't. Lol. I can't also believe I manage to write a 6minutes article.