I clench my fists after pressing them firmly against the sink, while gazing at my reflection in the mirror. My heart is beating fast.

The past two years had been like hell for me, everything was bright as that day, not until our car suddenly, without warning, fell off the cliff, plummeting into the abyss below.

My younger brother, Thomas, used to love plants, trees, creeks, and nature. Countless times he came home with either wet body as a result of mindlessly playing on a creek nearby home or hands full of earth. He was a silly but clever boy, and I loved him dearly, as did my mom. The day we had decided to go on a hike for his request for his tenth birthday is also the day I lost him and mom.

I was on the backseat, the car on fire. Thomas and mom were drenching on blood, lifeless. The music melody that had once intertwined with our shared moments just a minute ago still dance through the air, vibrant, and alive, but neither of them is, anymore. For the first time in my life, I felt alone, I was engulfed by a sense of utter helplessness, like drowning in a sea of uncertainty with no lifeline to grasp onto.

That accident was just a blink of an eye but the scar it left on my heart will remain all my life or forever.

A sudden vibration brings me back to the present, adding up another bucket to my anxiety.

"Your dad will call you tomorrow morning, Christine."

The exact words echo in my mind from our aunt's conversation last night. Just then, my phone begins to ring in my pocket — it's really him.

He's a well-respected lawyer and entrepreneur, but I haven't been with with him since he flew away to New Zealand ten years ago when I was still nine. He wasn't there, when my mom gave birth to Thomas, my highschool graduation, their marriage anniversaries, and the time his family was drenching on blood.

After the accident, all I had was my aunt Shiella. Somehow, she gave me hope. She had always been kind-hearted to us, even before accident, but now she has to leave as she needs to move to another country with her new family. It was thanks to her I managed to survived mentally after everything that happened, keeping me from losing my sanity.

My father, Victor Romerio, on the other hand, is finally returning after being away for a long time. It seems he is now doing his best to make up for all that he had missed with his family even it is now, in fact, broken. It may be too late, but I still appreciate him for that.

"Honey, how are you? Have you arrived at the university already?", he utters.

I sigh and then dully reply. "I'm doing well, Victor."

Despite my attempts to move on, I can't shake the feeling of resentment that my own father wasn't there for me during the days, weeks, and months following that unfortunate event. I can't bring myself to call him 'dad' like I used to, and I barely recognize his face anymore.

"Listen, my dear, I understand I've let you down, and I owe you so much for everything that's happened. I know I've been the worst father, but please believe me when I say I won't be away from you anymore. From this moment on, I'm here for you."

"You've got to move on, dear. I know it's hard for us…", he added before I shut it out.

I close my eyes tightly, and begin fluttering my eyelids, trying to stop my eyes from tearing up and then bring back my phone in my pocket.

Maybe he's right. Perhaps all this time I've been burying myself in a deep grave.

Suddenly, the door swings open, its hinges emitting a wide, eerie creak that rumbles through the restroom where I've been since my arrival at the university. A silhouette of a tall and fairly lean-looking man reflects in the mirror. This time, I tried to tilt my head back as I brush off some tears from my eyes.

"Hello?", I mumble softly.

The figure starts to run away, which startles me. I take huge steps hurriedly to the door, eager to see who was there seconds ago. Yet as I reach the threshold, I am met only with dimness and silence.

I inhale deeply and shrug it off.