Author: YourBreathingMyAir PM
I can't let myself be forgiven.. It's so cold.. I want to forget everything about you ...I'm sorry. Story is, without a doubt, better than summary.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Drama/Tragedy - Words: 1,162 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 08-20-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3052042
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It seemed like that was all I ever did these days. I waited for someone to tell me everything would be okay.
I know it won't. No one can tell me that because it won't be okay.
I just can't stop though, I have to keep waiting. Everything, everything I ever hoped will be destroyed if I stop waiting.
The clock seems to echo in the room. I should have gone to school, I should have gone and just sat and listened. Even if they tell me to go home, to rest, I'd stay.
It's to empty here, to quiet. It reminds me of everything I want to forget.
I want to forget that she's dead.
Her picture is on my wall, hanging crooked with cracked glass from hen I hurled it across the room.
(I want to forget everything about you.)
Bitter tears welled in my eyes and threaten to fall. I won't let them, I can't let them fall.
I close my eyes, tight, and I become dark, empty, alone.
There's a pain in my chest, sharp, sticking, it makes me want to double over and scream.
It feels empty, like my heart disappeared, and it feel like my heart is there, and full, to full, like it will burst and flood and I'll drown in myself.
(I won't let myself be forgiven.)
The emptiness inside my eyes becomes to much so I open them.
I look right at her picture.
The tears feel like they will never stop.
They fall and fall and fall. Maybe I'll drown in my tears, or maybe I'll cry until I run out of tears, but it seems impossible, they feel unstoppable.
I can see her smile, her eyes, everything.
I think I'm going to hurl, I've cried myself sick and insane.
(I want to stop crying, and I don't.)
When the tears finally do stop, my mom is slamming the door down stairs to announce her arrival home.
She opens my door slowly and looks at me with sharp eyes.
She sits gently on the edge of my bed, as though if she disturbs my spot I will shatter.
"Melanie...It's been nearly a week. You can't keep crying over things you can't change. You'll find someone, it was just a phase. I understand that you are hurt and that she died b-"
I clasp my hands over my ears, like a stubborn three year old might, my mother stops talking and narrows her eyes.
She grabs my wrists and lowers them, Her expression somewhere between annoyance and sympathy.
"Stop crying over things-"
"You cry over me still." I said. Her eyes look hurt, but I can't find myself to take back whats true.
(It was because of us.)
"That's different." She says, grip on my wrists loosening.
She lets go and puts her hands on my shoulders.
"Don't call me that!" The harshness in my tone surprises both of us and she recoils, as if slapped. "Only she can call me that." I say quieter, I don't think my voice can handle too much louder.
She stands, brushes imaginary dust off her skirt and turns away.
"If that's how it'd going to be." She says quietly, I can tell by the tone that she is thrown off. "you can go to McDonald's or fix something for dinner, since you probably won't come downstairs for dinner."
I don't respond, just pull my knees up to my chest and try to close myself out.
(They didn't approve.)
She closes the door with more force then necessary.
Johnny will be home soon, and he'll tell my mom she's being to Harsh. Something is being ripped off my door, I can hear it.
(Not even she approves.)
Something inside me explodes. "Go the fuck away!" I say loudly, it's close to yelling, but not quiet there.
My Mother swings the door open and the picture falls off the wall and this time the glass shatters.
"What did you just say to me!?" she shouts, her face red and a fist full of paper clenched in her hand.
"Go the fuck away." I whisper, my eyes locked on the once was drawing of a waterfall with a rainbow on the horizon.
There is no heart in my chest as my mother walks forward. It beats like a drum as she opens her mouth. My heart shatters as she whispers "Go to hell."
This time she slams the door so hard it shakes the whole house.
It takes me a few moments to realize I'm crying again, sobbing loudly and clinging to myself.
(We will burn in hell, she says.)
My whole body trembles, everything hurts every breath stings.
Dinner will be soon, Johnny has already come home and I can hear my mom setting the plates.
I feel hallow and defeated.
I crawl over to her picture, tiny shards of grass stabbing my palms, my fingers trace the shape of her face.
I make a sudden decision and stand. I pull a a sweatshirt on, grab my wallet, and run down the steps.
"Melanie, where are you going!?" My mother shouts, but I don't think she needs an answer yet.
I slam the door and take off running.
(I won't let them forgive me.)
It feels to noisy, to alive.
The cart for flowers is still there, the vendor is still smiling. I buy a bouquet, throw the money on the cart and keep running.
The wind is pushing against me but I don't want to slow down.
I have to make it...I have to make it in time.
(that's the lie I tell myself.)
My feet feel numb...I'm cold...But I can see them.
They're huddled together..crying on shoulders..I have to make it.
Her name is echoing in my head...Sarah.
"Sarah...Sarah!" I think I'm crying...I think it's snowing..but it doesn't matter..because there is her casket.
"Sarah." I whisper, collapsing. It's cold..Very cold.
(even if it kills me.)
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry..I'm sorry." some one takes the flowers from my hands and lays them on top.
Some takes my arm, drapes a coat around me.
"Are you crazy!? Melanie...your barefoot!"
"I'm sorry.I'm sorry.I'msorry." it's so cold...
Pneumonia. That's what the doctor says. A severe case.
There's three blankets on me.. but I'm so cold..
I feel heavy. I think about her. Her hair, her lips, her hands.
She was so warm..So happy..Why did she do it...Was she afraid?
(it's the memories that I cling to that burn.)
I'll have to ask her.
My mom comes in..her face worried. There's something in her hands...A drawing, My drawing.
"I love you baby." She says...The drawing is placed on the night stand...I smile..."Just the way you are.."
"I love you." Coughing...cold...Warm..."Call me Mel..."
my mom is holding my hand. It's warm..
I think I want to sleep now..I'm tired..Just a nap..
(The first thing I see when I open my eyes is her face..Sarah..)