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it's carved into my mind with the day permanently etched.
The day you two left me.
All by myself.
I was only 4.
You crouched down to my height, scooped a shaky hand through my black hair, while putting on a genuine smile. It was filled with hurt. I could tell. I could tell you were tired and you didn't want to do this.
But anarchy never had a specific time.
"Bruce. Baby. I love you. So so so much....you're our toughest little berserker."
Toughest berserker.
Their little nickname for me.
Both of theirs combined.
At the time I didn't understand why she said something so random. So sincere.
Someone else came. He also crouched down to my height. His callous nurturing hand held the side of my face, his smile trembling. He always looked so nice with a smile, rather than a smirk.
"I love you too little guy. Always stay strong and listen to your heart."
His voice croaked for the first time.
I fervently nodded.
Both of them kissed me and gave me a body shattering hug.
I was used to their immense strength.
They cradled me close to their chest.
Their arms encapsulated me.
It was like the two didn't want to let me go.
I didn't want to either.
But then, they did.
She looked heartbroken.
He looked numb and regretful.
"Baby, stay with Ms Higgins in that corner shop okay?" Her hand frantically pointed towards the little shop I always used to buy candy at.
"And if she evacuates, evacuate with her." He told me with a levelled voice.
Then they left.
Zipped off in two beautiful shades of green.
Lime and forest green.
My rebellious parents.
My mommy and daddy.
My best friends in the whole world.
Hours passed, I clung onto the lady mommy had told me to stay with. The kind old lady tried everything she could to calm the little tears sprouting out of my eyes.
But her hold was no where near as soothing or strong as daddy's.
No where near comfy as how mommy wiped my tears.
She didn't call me tough.
Just a poor baby.
And mommy and daddy raised a fighter not some poor baby.
I shook her off, refusing to be held. I zipped off into the city, where most of the city lay in rubble. The sky was red, faint crimson blood red. It looked like hell.
It was desolate.
Then I saw two lumps.
Further along on the ground.
I toddled quickly, tripping over many bits and bobs. But I didn't care, I was strong. Daddy said I am and I believe him.
Why was there no one there?
The city was empty.
Shyly, I moved closer and screamed.
The two lumps.
They were my parents.
Daddy, the most toughest guy I knew, lay there, eyes shut.
On top of him, sprawled out on his chest, was mommy.
The most prettiest person I knew. She is beautiful, her black strands sprawled out on his chest and a hand lay limply on daddy's chest. I always liked the ring on her left finger, the colour was pretty.
It shimmered uselessly.
So did daddy's silver band.
I started crying, I tugged his muscley arm that was looped over her.
It didn't stir him.
I howled pathetically again, shaking mommy's shoulder.
"Mommy, daddy!?"
They didn't answer.
I want them to wake up.
I want them to tell me it's okay and we are all strong and here together.
But they didn't
They were covered in red.
An ugly red colour.
Red was never their colour, green looked better.
Why wasn't mommy punching daddy and telling him to suck it up?
Why wasn't daddy cackling back at her while calling her beautiful?
I didn't like red.
Not at all.
It only looked nice on their faces after they kiss.
But they weren't kissing so they shouldn't be red.
I sunk next to them on my knees, clinging onto their shirts.
All I remember was sobbing convulsively for them.
My eyes were blurred.
And I don't remember who took me away after.
I lost my senses.
I hated that day.
The universe took my mommy and daddy away. My best friends.
That day was the day that left me as an orphan.
---
I'm 19 now.
Aunty Blossom brought in a box with all my parents possessions.
I didn't bother looking at them just yet.
The grief still lingered.
There was a packet of photos.
I took it out.
They were both so beautiful together.
Mom was a beautiful woman.
Dad had always looked so striking.
They looked happy with each other.
They looked very happy with me.
My mom shyly smile at the camera, right after giving birth to me. I was tucked to her chest in a blue bundle.
And dad grinned with happy tears sprouting his goofy eyes.
There were many photos.
Stubborn hot tears burned my eyes as I flung them back into the box.
I was stood in front of the mirror.
Every single thing reminded me of them.
I had his jawline.
I had her eyes,
I had his nose.
I had her cheekbones.
I had his shield power.
I could curl my tongue like her.
I had his ears
I had her lips, her pouts and scowls.
I had both of their hair.
How could I look at myself without having to look at them?