Death of a Nightingale

CHAPTER 42: EARLY GOODBYE - NESS

I couldn't sleep. Even after days of complete deprivation, hardly any food, and intense emotional upheaval, I was unable to drift off. Maybe I don't deserve it anymore. The sweet feeling of dulling comfort. Listening to music also didn't relax me. My mind continued to bounce off of one thought straight to the next and I simply didn't want to just lay there any longer torturing myself. But I also couldn't face my mother. The idea of going down to the kitchen and having her look at me, comfort me after breaking Luke's heart and after receiving Emma's letter didn't sit right. I am not ready to talk about anything. Not yet. So I did the only sensible thing and went out the window.

Turns out that route is a lot more difficult than I had imagined. The slanted roof was fairly easy to scoot down on, but then I was a bit stuck. It's still a three-story building and I'd never done anything like this before. So, I inched myself over until the gutters connected with the downspout on the side of the house, right alongside the kitchen window. I turned over and lowered myself, legs first. Finding hold on a normal day would have likely been quite difficult. Between the rain, my state of mind, and lack of sleep, I've truly managed to pick a challenge. Thankfully, the bolts holding the pipe to the bricks gave me enough grip to start moving down bit by bit. My arms burned with the strain, but it worked.

I neared the kitchen and saw light emanating from it. I paused for a moment and heard my mother speaking with someone. It was muffled but sounded intense. She was using her professional tone and I didn't want to give her any reason to direct it at me. I clung on even tighter to the pipe and inched a bit lower. Just in time, it turns out, because Mom suddenly yanked open the curtains at the kitchen window. Did she hear me? Impossible. Before I could give her another chance to discover her adult daughter sneaking out of the house to avoid a comforting conversation, I took a leap of faith and let myself fall the remainder of the way down. I landed on my ass but miraculously didn't hurt myself in any way. Good.

With a pounding heart that usually accompanies a prison break of this magnitude, I rushed around the corner. I knew exactly where I wanted to go today, even though it wouldn't make my sorrow disappear. In fact, just the opposite.

Emma had told me so many abhorrent stories about her dad. I don't even fully blame her for wanting to end her life. I understand. But I know that those moments in life pass with the right support. I halt at that thought and suck in a cold breath of winter air. I should have been her support. I know it was still her decision. All my training tells me this isn't my fault and I can't take it on. And yet, I wasn't there for her when it really mattered. I had my head stuck up my own ass, breaking Luke's heart and chasing monsters. The person she relied on in her darkest hour wasn't there. I continue on, into her neighborhood. I know where Emma lives. She shared every detail of her life with me for the past eighteen months or so. I also remember her telling me that her father would want to erase her, as she put it, as quickly as possible. The stain she brought on her family. He called her that as a nickname; Stain. I remember hearing that the first time we spoke and it rendering me utterly speechless. The lack of empathy and compassion. I really wanted to slap her father into reality even back then. Regardless of whether or not he agreed with his child's transition into a woman, love should have won out. But we're in the South after all. We're surrounded by so much fear and traditional pressure that love and fear are mixed up on a daily basis.

Emma told me once, that if she ever died, her father would want her funeral to be that day. She was certain. Just to be done with it and give the neighbors zero chance to mourn the real her. He wouldn't want any of her freak friends to come, dressed up as women, and embarrass him. I see the little New Hope Baptist Church stick out like a sore thumb and have to raise my brows at the name and the immediate reference jumping to mind. I wonder how many nerds drive by this place and quietly hum the Imperial March, imitating Darth Vader. I hope it's a great number.