"...and they lived happily ever after. The end." I close the book and place it on my lap. The crowd in front of me is in absolute silence. What's wrong with these little people?

"That's it? No babies?" One of the little people enquires me.

"Yes. That's the end. No ba—" The word chokes on my throat. I sigh deeply and give a blank look to the little person sitting on the floor, cross-legged and sulky faced.

"That's so sad. My mommy says having a baby is the perfect happy ending." Somebody needs to teach this little person's 'mommy'.

"Well, that's what she said. This book has a different ending."

"When I grow up, I'll make a different ending for this book." There are some whispers among the others and some cheering.

"Good. I'll be waiting." In hell.

"Miss Thompson?" I turn my head to the door and see the teacher leaning on it.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for your valuable time, again. Will we be seeing you next week?" The woman asks me.

"We'll see." It's inappropriate to tell her—infront of these little people too—that I am forced to come here every week. Part of 'renewing the point of life' as she said.

She gives me a small show of her teeth, a smile, something which I can't reciprocate so I simply nod in return. I get up from the chair and walk to the door.

"Kids, say goodbye to Miss Thompson." The woman whose name I never recalled says. Soon I hear a chorus of 'Goodbye Miss Thompson'.

"Goodbye, little people." I whisper and get out of the walls of the preschool.

Hot weather of Texas hits me like a slap on my face as I walk towards the bus stop. I cover my face with a scarf and take out my phone to answer some emails.

'Miss Thompson,

The Fillers have requested your presence today at 3pm to discuss a few things about their requirements. No other cases for this week.

Your PA,

Fiona.'

I sighed in exhaustion. Reading a story book in a preschool is a big challenge for me and I am forced to do it every week. Orders of my seventh therapist.

'Fiona,

Shift it next week.

Maria Thompson.'

The bus halts and few passengers get off, but I stood immobile. The newspaper on the stand beside me catches my eye.

'Rumoured marriage of Software tycoon Eric King.'

Wow. How has the world come to? They won't leave a man in peace. I shook my head in disbelief and walk away from the bus stop.

Life. It's a gem. That's what I have learned in my life. It doesn't tell you how to grow more gems or change its colour. It simply hands it over to us and leaves. It's up to us about how we shape it or keep it clean. One small slip and it can crack or even worse, break. I never had any slip in life yet I suffered the biggest crack in my life at a very young age.

It took some time for the crack to heal, but when I thought it finally healed, the gem slipped from my hands and broke.

I sighed deeply as I reach my two storey house. It is painted grey with glass windows. A small backyard filled with weed and dried leaves, an empty kennel with no dog and lots of dried plants. It's just a typical high earning lawyer's house. I might have failed in my life, but my career rose to incredible heights which is something I still don't understand whether I should be proud of it or not.

I take out a few letters from my mailbox and throw it in the trash right beside it. All the letters are from my previous therapists and clubs I had to join in the past few months. Nothing new. It's never new. I unlocked the door of my house and met face to face with an angry lady with the same auburn hair I have and a bit older version of me, whom I have learned to call a mother. My mother.

"Where were you? I was worried sick about you." Her grey eyes, shooting glares meet mine and she instantly softens up.

"I walked."

"You could have called."

I shrugged. "Was trying the new...um...positive thinking practice. It needs no distractions." I lied. It's no big deal to me and to her too. She knows I lie, but she never said anything.

Her face lits up like a firecracker and my mouth twitches from one corner only by seeing her expression. "Oh sweetie, that's amazing! Do you feel light?"

"No." I deadpanned.

"Honey, it's okay. It takes time to feel better." She places her small hand on my shoulder and squeezes it.

Yeah, yeah, it will take time as long as I live.

"Mother, I'm tired. It was a tiring day and I want to sleep. Call Juan and order my regular." I take my shoes off and walk to my bedroom.

"Okay sweetie, I'll wake you up in an hour for lunch."

As soon as the door closes, I sigh loudly. My knees tremble as I walk towards a photo frame and take out the photograph from it.

Time to join.

For the past few months I have been planning to join my family, for real this time. I have grown tired of waiting. The only feeling I have felt for the past two years is taking me over. My third therapist thought drowning myself in my work would help me but it didn't. Now, I want to end it for good.

My fingers trace over the photograph. I lie down on my bed, the photo, tightly clutched to my chest. My hands involuntarily touch the handle of the drawer beside and pull out a small envelope. I looked at the grey ceiling of my room as my fingers fumbled to open the envelope. My fingers take out an ultrasound and place it on my belly.

It feels cold. The ultrasound, the photo and the room. I don't want it cold. I need the warmth. I need him. I need his warmth. I need the life growing inside me.

I screamed when I didn't feel it.

"WHY ME?!" I scream loudly hoping to get an answer from somewhere or someone.

"It hurts so much. Why me?" I mumbled as those painful tears fell on my face. They felt like piercing my skin. Cutting my face like those glasses did that night.

"It had just started..." I whisper and feel myself spoon on the bed as if he is right behind me, brushing my hair with his fingers and his arm engulfs me in a very protective manner.

My teeth chatter in this cold. "I don't know wha–what to do anymore, I just don't. I need you."

You need to sleep. You need to rest.

My hands tremble as they grab the pills on my nightstand. These were prescribed to me by my first therapist, thinking that they would help me sleep. An overdose leads to permanent sleep.

Exactly what you need.

My fingers turn the cap on and toss a few tablets on the table and grab them.

I close my eyes and sigh in contentment when I finally realize that I'll be with them in a few moments. I opened my mouth to take them and that's when I heard a knock.

"Sweetie? Maria? Wake up. Juan's here. He brought your regular." I hear a distinct voice of my mother.

She knocks again. "Honey? Damn this soundproof room! I hope the person who invented this rots in hell." She lets out a few curses I should not have heard from my mother and starts banging the door.

It's now or never.

I sit on the bed staring at those pills in my palm. The photo and the ultrasound falls on my lap. My gaze falls on the photograph and my heart screams in agony.

"Maria, get up now!" I hear my mother scream as she furiously bangs the door.

The tears finally stop pouring and I quickly place the ultrasound back inside the envelope and put it inside the drawer safely. I hide everything else inside the pillow. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and walk to the door.

I take deep breaths to control my overwhelming emotions and open the door.

"Hello, mother."

She sighs in relief. "Oh thank God! I thought you did—nevermind. Juan is here." She notices my tear dried face. "Maria, honey, were you crying again?" I don't say anything and walk to the living room.

A man is standing near the dining room, holding a pizza box and a small box which contains my salad. He is wearing the uniform of the restaurant and is taking in the the rich surroundings, as he usually does. His hair is in a shabby mess and there is a piercing in his ear. Lean shoulders and his blonde hair reminds me of someone I used to know long back.

"Juan." I acknowledge my presence to him.

He grins. "Ah! Miss Marisa, wonderful weather, ain't it?"

"No, and my name is Maria not Marisa." I take out a little cash and hand it over to him.

"Thank you. Here's your one plain cheese pizza with the...um...cheese removed and our special salad without pepper, as per your requirement. You sure you don't want anything else?" He asks.

"No."

"Okey dokey. You know where to call when you are hungry, ain't you?" He asks me as he walks out of the house.

"No." I deadpanned and shut the door on his face.

After a silent lunch with a heavy atmosphere—as it has always been for the past two years—my mother left, wishing me good bye and whispering a silent prayer in my ear.

My feet dragged me back to my room. It was only evening and yet I was tired. I lay down on my bed when I felt something crushing underneath my pillow so I lifted it up and saw the remains of the pills and the photo.

I kept staring at the powdered pills then brushed it off from my bed.

Tomorrow is another day.

I picked up the photo and held it tightly to my chest. My face is already wet with silent tears and I don't bother to wipe them.

"Goodnight Thomas. I love you." I whisper and let myself fall to the land of broken memories.