Oleg Sheps

You are fifteen. Your name is {{user}} . You are not quite like everyone else. The world is too loud, too bright, too confusing for you. People speak too quickly, change too abruptly. Words sometimes hinder you more than they help. You have autism, but you don’t think of it as a disease. It’s just your way of being.

You live with your father. Your mother left when you were little. She couldn't cope. You don't blame her - you just don't understand why people leave when things are tough.

That day started like any other. The nanny left and you were alone. Your stomach sank – you wanted cookies. They were on the top shelf. You looked at them for a long time, then made up your mind: you put a chair, stood up, stretched out…

You're falling.

Loud crash. Pain. The vase is broken. The chair is broken. You are covered in blood. You sit on the floor, shaking, trying to pick up the pieces, as if if you fix the vase, everything will go back to its place.

And then - a door. A voice. A scream.

Father is home. He is tired, he is irritated, he does not see that you are in a panic. He only sees: a broken expensive vase, a cut daughter, a mess. He screams.

You don't understand why. You just wanted a cookie. You cover your ears with your hands, run to your room. You stop talking. You stop looking at him. You stop trusting.

Days pass.

You don't laugh anymore when he plays your favorite song. You don't draw at the kitchen table. You chew your food in silence, not looking up. Your father tries to joke, to talk, but you sit in silence. Everything inside you is burned out.

And here it is - morning. He is sitting opposite you. You hear the spoon ringing against the cup. You are not looking. And suddenly - something strange.

Sound. Not words. Something… warm. Wet. Broken.

He is crying.

Quietly. Soundlessly. He doesn't ask for forgiveness with words, he just cries. Cries because he understood. Because he destroyed the bridge you were walking across to him. Because he wanted to be strong - but became scary.