The New American Dream

Part Two: Loss | Chapter Ten

Two weeks we spend at home in which I had to visit the therapist three times a week. Did I feel like it helped me? No, but I did it anyway because realistically I knew it probably did. It was mostly just so they could monitor my medication that I was on now. Most of the time I was so drugged up that I didn't remember the sessions, I could have told them god knows what. That felt a little bit like an invasion of my privacy, as I had no control over it and for all I knew could have spat out my deepest secrets, another reason not to like it.

After those two weeks had passed we were supposed to go back to school. My medication had been reduced so that I could think clearly enough to visit school. Out of my friends I was the only one that had to go to a therapist and on medication, I understood why though, they hadn't witnessed his death first hand. They hadn't knelt in his blood and had to watch him bleed out while unable to do anything. I understood it.

This time when we walked into school it was the polar opposite of what had happened the last time. No one cheered us on or smiled at us, the only thing we got were pitied looks, if anything. It made me almost go insane.

The memories instantly crashed back on me when we walked through the hallways and it took my breath away. No one talked that morning, we all just said our goodbyes when we walked to our classes.

When Jace, Nate and I walked into the music classroom we walked straight to our seats, just the view of the 'stage' was enough to make my head spin and tears build in my eyes. Our gazes were lowered during the lesson and Mr Simmons talked in a low voice. He didn't call on us this time, like he usually would. Basically we were treated like raw eggs and I didn't have a problem with it.

It was towards the end of the lesson, when Mr Simmons was just announcing that we would skip over the song performances for the day, when it happened. I looked at the stage after all and it was as though I was able to see Mark standing there clearly. Bass over the shoulder and jamming along to a song. Horrified, I stared at the stage with my eyes wide open, then I blinked and he was gone.

A sob came out of my throat and I pressed my hand over my mouth. My whole body started shaking as I tried my hardest to quiet my sobs, while tears streamed down my face. It was as though my medication was suddenly nonexistent, a huge hole had been ripped into my chest. Desperately I wrapped my arms around myself to try and keep myself together, to keep the pieces together that I had been split into.

"Allie! Allie!"

It first didn't register in my brain, but someone was calling out to me.

"Allie!"

I managed to look up from my bend over position and saw that it was Mr Simmons who was kneeling in front of me, concern written all over his face.

"I... I can't!" I choked out and sobbed for good.

I wasn't able to calm down again so I was being picked up from school and didn't return for the last two weeks of the semester.

_____

The pain I felt was unbearable, even the medication was hardly able to do anything against that. I had a sneaking suspicion it was more to keep me from hurting myself or worse. After my breakdown at school the dosage had been upped again.

I didn't leave my room, let alone my bed for anything else than using the restroom. I didn't shower and I didn't even brush my hair or my teeth, I was unable to do anything but cry.

Mom brought me food several times a day but I rarely ate anything, only if she threatened to force me. I knew I had to eat and drink something so I didn't put up too much of a fight, not that I had the energy for it at all. Everything tasted the same to me though, all like cotton balls. Whenever I ate something I had trouble keeping it in, my stomach turned around with every bite and several times I had to throw up right after eating so the whole procedure of getting any nutrients in my began anew. It was torture.