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