I'm Not a Fighter, I'm a Victim

Chapter 9

Riley

“Where are you going Riles?” My friend Madison asked me.

 

“Oh, I’m going to head home early, I have chores” I lied, smiling slightly. “You know parents” I keep going on, feeling tears starting to form in my eyes. It was a bold face lie, to myself that is. Nobody knows my parents are dead. Nobody knows I live in the group home. People just assume, my parents remarried, and that’s why I have different signatures on papers.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow. We can play with Darcy, and Sadie at recess” she suggested and I nodded.

“It’s a plan” I said, then taking off.

 

I ran as fast as I could to the cemetery. I hadn’t talked to my parents in forever, and I have to talk to them immediately. It’s something I always do right after school, even when they were still alive. Normally, I come home then talk to them about my day, then watch old cartoons with them. This became tradition, a tradition I’ve grown quite accustomed to. A part of me knew messing up this tradition we have would be unforgivable. Seeing it this way; I decided to go straight to the cemetery and talk to my parents about my day, my life without them, and occasionally thoughts of suicide.

I’m sure they know I’m too scared to kill myself...But they know I would if I could. It’s just from grief...No more than that.

 It feels like they’re still alive when I talk to them. The feeling that they’re talking back to me...just as they would as if they were alive. Man, I miss them...so much...It just sucks when you come home and there’s nobody to hug, and talk to you. I just go to the group home, see Andrew or Erin---who are happily in love, I’m sure of it---say hello and I go to sit by myself, not talking to anybody else for the rest of the day.

Lovely afternoon isn’t that?

 

“Hi mommy...Hi daddy” I whispered looking at the two headstones.

 My parents had died about three years ago. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. All I know is they’re gone, and I’m still here. They’re off in the greatest place in the universe, and I’m stuck in a living nightmare. It’s not fair! Why did that happen to them? They didn’t do anything, all they did was live...It’s not fair, and no matter how much I may be spoiled in the future---probably wont happen anyway---it still wouldn’t be fair. I mean, we should be living our lives...Together as a family... A normal family that has nothing wrong with them.

“Sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while. School sucks for that” I whispered again, feeling tears spill down my face. “You know...I just wanna know why you’re gone...I wanna know why I still don’t know what happened to you guys” I confessed trying to hold back a sob.

I couldn’t go on. The thickness in my voice began to clog up my airway, and more tears came down faster. “You’re gone...You’re gone...I’m alone...All alone...Nobody at the group home is my age...Some kids at school mess with me because you don’t pick me up after school...My life sucks! I just wanna die...Crawl in a hole and die...That way...I can be with you” I half shout, then lose my balance.

I fell over sobbing harder and harder. I hate it...The crying, the sadness, seeing kids all happy with their parents; it makes me sick. I could have that...A happy family, with parents that pick you up after school. Parents that come home and help you with hard homework. But what do I get...I get stuck with a whole bunch of girls who I don’t know, three hour interrogations about my parents death, and teasing... 

Please just kill me!

Put me out of my misery.

Just finish me off.

I’m at my breaking point.

I just want to be with my parents.

That’s all... 

“Riles...” I heard a voice call me. “Riles, come on get up” The voice insisted and I sniffled.

“What, am I dead? Are my parents here to pick me up?” I asked, shivering. I was soaking wet, not only my face, but my book bag, my clothes, and my entire body. How long was I crying? I thought I was here for an hour, must have been much longer than that.

 “No Riles, you never came to the group home. We were worried, I was about to file you as—”

“Please be quiet...” I whispered. “You don’t know anything...So you don’t have to worry about me...You don’t have to be worried, it’s not your life. It’s my retarded life!” I spat and she rubbed my back.

“Riley, we were just worried about you...You may still be traumatized---”

 “Shut up Erin! You don’t get it! You’re not me, you’ll never be me!” I spat again, and she eyed me as if I was crazy. Guarantee I was very crazy.

 “Riles, I just want to help you” she argued and I scoffed

 “I don’t want your pity”