Good Bye Forever
LR: THIS IS NOT TRUE…I REPEAT…THIS IS NOT TRUE…if it were where would I be right now?
Paco: Underground…hahahahhahahaha *bada-boom*
Audience: *crickets chirping*
LR: Yeah…hope you leave depressed when you are done reading this…and the italics are flashbacks…R+R please…thanks…PEACE………
'It's been a while since I last saw you, buddy,' I thought staring at the small polished blade. 'I can still remember the first time I got you.'
I was only seven at the time when I got it. It was around evening and I knew that I was going to get in trouble for coming home late. I didn't care, as long as I got my time. A man with a black trench coat was leaning against one of the buildings. He said, "Take this, it will help you cherish your life," giving me a small pocketknife. I gave him a weird look then took it and walked off. When I turned around to see if he was following me, he was gone, nowhere in sight.
'I still can't believe I still have this,' I thought, then grinned, 'but I'm glad I still do.' I had pulled over on the side of the road, in a secluded area only moments ago, still grasping the knife in one hand. Turning the engine off, I sat there in front of the steering wheel, thinking. I thought about all the things that has happened over the years till now; thinking of all the trouble I have caused; all the people who didn't care; all the people I have threatened. I just sat there staring at the small sharp pocketknife. More flashbacks surged through my mind.
I was sixteen and my little sister was thirteen when it first happened. It was like any other night. I was playing video games with my sister, going on my winning spree. Somehow, though, my sister had tricked me and I lost. I was enraged of this. I went berserk. Sure it was a game, but it was my first time losing and I just went out of my mind. I couldn't stand it…I took my scissors and pinned my sister into a corner. "I hear death calling upon someone…someone is going to die tonight." I said, twitching occasionally.
A loud shriek escaped my sister's mouth as I approached closer and closer, until my mom came in. My sister ran towards her and bawled. I just stood there, watching my mom and sister, staring at me like I am crazy. The neighbors, being the nosy people they already are, called the police, thinking they know what exactly happened. The mental institution came to get me. My mom stood outside our yellow house, watching me get taken away, and not doing a single thing about it. "I can't let you endanger the family, kid." I heard her say.
'I never heard her voice again.' I thought, while turning the music up in my black Mustang.
I was put into a straight jacket and put into a dark room, with only a bed. I sat there, on the bed, the whole night, thinking of what I was going to do with myself. The next morning, two men came in to get me out of the jacket. When I was loose, I jumped on one of them and knocked him out. On the other hand, the other man ran off to get help. I started heading for the door when it hit my head. I guess I was knocked out because all I remember after that was I in the cushion room. I couldn't stand it. I just sat there patiently, waiting to be released. I only got gruesome gruel, twice a day. It was horrible.
Some months later, I was told that with psychiatric help and solitary confinement, I would be able to leave on my eighteenth birthday. So I got 'help,' and I stayed for two agonizing years. It came to my attention that no matter what I did, I never got better, but for the sake of my freedom, I did everything I could to get out of this place. I was put back in 'the room' a few times, but I was still scheduled to leave on my eighteenth birthday.
The day finally arrived when I turned 18. I got out with a simple signature. I took a taxi home, using the money that the institution gave me. Little did I know, when we got there, my mom's car was missing, and only mine sat there? I went up to the door and knocked. An old lady answered. "You don't live here." I told her. "Oh, dear, you must be that girl that used to live here. Your mother told me to give you your things when you come back. Here." She said, handing me a few boxes and my car keys.
I managed to get a 'thanks' out of my mouth, still trying to process what the lady had told me. 'They left me.' I thought. I walked up to my car and unlocked the door, then stepped in. I rummaged through the boxes and found my old journal, dusty and torn. I put that aside and found the knife. A smile grew on my face. "I never got to use this…till now." I said to myself as I drove off.
I took out my journal that I found earlier and started writing on the last page.
This probably the last time I will ever get the chance to write in you. What I am about to do, I will never regret. No one ever cared and no one ever will. No one in my family came to visit during the times of my confinement. People in school will never notice I'm gone, being called the forgotten social outcast for a reason. No one ever heard me out; my faint cries for help. It is clear to me now that I am a pest that deserves nothing more than to die. No more of this 'we care for you' and 'we are your friends' nonsense. No one ever notice…ever notice that I am gone. Knowing that I will never be missed is a thought that sticks out of my mind…until now. Here is where that thought will be thrown away along with my life… Last entry-SAK 9/9/02 23:54PM
I threw my journal to the back of my car. I picked up the knife, fingering its cold smooth surface again. 'The first and only gift ever given to me is now coming in handy.' I thought, creating the first gash in my left wrist. Warm crimson blood poured out of me as I stepped out of the car. More gashes joined that one. 'Here is to the life I never had and never will.' I thought as I threw the pocketknife far, far away, into the dark night.