Unlucky

Ceiling

[Elliot POV]

I always wondered what it would be like if I was to die young, I usually have such wandering thoughts but this thought in particular was unique in a way that I wouldn't understand until further down the road.

When I would truly understand what it meant to go to the edge of death and be brought back with a single touch of life.

But back to the point at hand.

I wouldn't necessarily call myself a morbid person, per say, but I definitely wouldn't go around calling myself a normal thinking person.

Like, I often contemplated the meaning of life and of my own existence more then somebody in their mid to late twenties should be doing.

Am I right or am I right on that one?

But anyways, I wasn't exactly normal in that aspect and I certainly shouldn't be considered normal either after what I had experienced just hours ago which I'm pretty sure I hallucinated the entire event of, if my memory serves correctly.

Most of my short term, recent memories felt hazy now, as if I had to dredge them up from the sticky, slimy swamps that was my current state of mind as I attempted to try retrieving some of the valuable flashes of memories that could help me solve the jumbled up puzzle that has become of my brain.

Sad as it was, I couldn't seem to remember much beyond leaving the apartment to head to the hospital for my shift in the morning and the pouring rain that had cascaded down my body like an endless waterfall that would not stop flooding my clothes with it's penetrating actions and ruining my sanity at the same time.

I remember the feeling that I got after my father, George, called me only minutes early and how I sped out of my apartment like he was the devil chasing behind me, right on my heels and ready to snatch me up at the blink of an eye.

I was just so angry at George for placing all of the weight of the world upon my shoulders, for always making me feel like I couldn't do anything right if I wasn't the exact person that he wanted me to be, for making me feel like I didn't matter or that I didn't have a place in this world even when I was the smartest, brightest person in the room but I never verbally admitted it to anybody.

He made me feel, quite oftentimes, worthless.

The only thing tying me back to him was my mother, she was the only one who ever understood me, who ever listened to me and persuaded me to follow my dreams.

She was the glue that held our tiny family together and she was the rock that held the glue as well.

She was the center of everything.

But when she was gone, everything fell apart without her.

My father and I became even more distant from each other, separated by the wedge that was my mother and his father, and the matters were only made worse when he decided to marry one of the nurses that had been treating my mother in the hospital.

My jaw had dropped open when I heard the news and I was so stunned that I couldn't even think of a smartass remark to use in telling my father off.

I could only stare at my father in speechless shock before my voice finally caught up with the anger filled thoughts that ran wild inside my head, when I voiced the thoughts bubbling up inside my head and told my father that he was making a mistake.

That he shouldn't be moving on so quickly after Mom passed away.

But he didn't want to listen to me.

He accused me of holding onto her as if I thought she was going to come back to life, as if I was holding out hope that she wasn't dead after all.

He told me that I should be letting him live his life and enjoying what little time he did have left, as if he was going to suddenly keel over dead and leave me standing there all alone.