Safe Lock

Published by Marge Villaester on

safe lock

She was sitting on the corner of her bed, her hair falling smoothly just above her shoulders and her gaze fixed on the small cylindrical container above her desk. She was about to reach for the container, but she heard a small voice as the door creaked open. She turned her head towards the door and flashed a weak smile, holding out her right hand to reach for the little lady that is looking at her. She carried the girl to her lap and ran her hand through her soft curls, pressing a soft kiss just above her temples.

“Mom, what are those?” The child asked. Her voice full of curiosity as she pointed her finger towards the small cylindrical container that her mom was about to pick up just a few minutes ago. The girl stayed silent as she waits for an answer. She then grabbed the container and spoke once more, “Are these medicines? Why are they locked?”

The woman let out a sigh as she watched her daughter trying to open the container. She shook her head and took the medicine from her little baby. “Yes, those are medicines. And they are locked because naughty children like you might drink them without permission.” She chuckled.

The little brunette’s eyes widened with shock as she hear her mother speak. “What will happen if I drink those medicines, mom?” She mumbled. “You might get sick and may die if you drink too much.” Her mother answered, expecting a loud gasp from her child, but surprisingly heard nothing. Rather, the girl jumped from her mother’s lap to stand in front of her, putting her mother’s face between her palm and looking at her with worry. She whispered, tears forming on the side of her big brown eyes,

“Mom, these medicines should be in the trash. Because you know how to open them. You’re older and much sadder.”

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Marge Villaester

There are words hidden under her skin. A 22-year-old aspiring writer whose name means something precious, A pearl. A researcher by profession and a writer by heart. Her dreams are too big for this town to fulfill, but she’s not backing down. She breathes ink and paper, she craves the smell of new books, and she spends her spare time writing her thoughts and reading others'. She doesn’t know what she really wants, since a lot has changed about her. But she’s much stronger now, strong enough to figure things out alone. You might know her today, but you’re not gonna recognize her tomorrow.

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