forget about that dreadful day, through every type of art out there: painting, music, literature. I didn’ t want her to be sad, or disappointed, so I pretended to get better. She ended up noticing my real through my paintings in the end, through the memories and sceneries I recreated.
I hurt her more, my caretaker, my mother, when she got a call saying that I was on the exact bridge again. The Bridge. Only this time, I was preparing to reenact what my mum did. I wanted to jump off of her and be welcomed into my mum’ s arms. The problem is, I was thrown back to safety with the force of the Bridge, just as Elise came running towards me.
I am now in a facility, on the 12 th floor. The place I’ m in is right by the beautiful Bridge, which will stay beautiful forever, even though I despise her and makes me dreadful to see. The stupid people here in white placed me in the room with the small, rectangular which show me the exact bridge. As I recover, I am to know that Elise still loves me and brings me her delicious chocolate chip cookies every day. On the Mexican holiday,“ Dia de los Muertos,” I can always see my mum getting on the Bridge, jumping to her death.
By: Meztli Morales