More Than a Teacher - Ashton Irwin

66

Today marks the fourth day.

And just like yesterday, my body chose anger as undeniable guilt rots deep into my soul.

I'm furious with myself and I can't express that enough. Hearing just how sick and twisted my father Neil actually was only makes me spiral further into the depths of denial.

The thought of having a sister sparks hope but is only drowned out by the indescribable misery from the part of my heart that is missing. It also terrifies me to the core and to the point I don't even want to know about her. I've never had a proper family and I can't be sure how I'm supposed to react.

Will I love her? Will she love me? Is that how family works?

Family is such a foreign concept to me. I've never experienced any family holidays, funny bickering or listened to old childhood stories. These things were never given to me. I never even got the opportunity to be a part of an actual family. As soon as I was given the opportunity to be a part of love, it was ruined and taken away from me. So what will happen if I were to give into the opportunity of family?

The world just goes against every thing I do and every decision I make. The universe does everything it possibly can to push me further down into the dark hole. It hates my existence, even more than I already do.

I sit here with just my feet under the thin white hospital sheets. I'm still in a hospital gown because I have no belongings with me. Everything is back at home and I can't exactly sit here in my school uniform. I can even think about getting back into it at this stage.

I pick at my nails to pass the time, the TV giving my racing mind no justice. The shows are so boring during the day and it seems as if the nurses have cut the news channels from my viewing. No matter how many stations I flick through, there was not a single news channel.

This only sparked one thing in my head. I'd be dumb not to realise it. I mean why else would they remove news channels unless they thought I was too unstable to handle the fact that this ordeal is now a headline across all the local stations.

I've been waiting for them to speak to me about it, but they've kept very quiet. Not once have they brought up any of this in conversation with me.
They can't just assume I don't want to talk about it. Maybe I want to know what happened after I was sedated, maybe I'd like to know what happened when the heavily armed men stormed in after the gunshot. It's like they are avoiding it because they are scared of how I'll react.

I'm sick of everyone tiptoeing around me when all I want is for someone to break the ice and bring it up. I'm not five years old.

But then again I don't think I'll ever be able to cope hearing the gory detail of the injury Ash suffered. I don't think I can handle knowing how long he battled the tortuous pain. I wonder if he fought it or if he just accepted it? Either way, I won't ever let myself live this down. I will never forgive myself for the life I've taken so that I'm still here.

With the TV remote softly playing the sound of a random lifestyle show, I glance around the otherwise silent room. Everything is so pale and still. It's like a representation of me. So drained of color and life.

I gaze up to the IV pole beside my bed, watching with blurry vision as the creamy liquid slowly travels through the tube going down my nose. The clear water slowly drips from the saline bag next to it and I feel it flowing cold through my veins. It's so irritating, I can barely use my hand and I get the jitters every time I look at it in my skin for too long.

I listen to myself swallow and turn my head to rest on the opposite side so that I can look out the window at some small trees blowing in the wind. It has been raining for the past two days but defying all odds of the weather predictions from the nurses who chatted while doing my vitals last night, it hasn't rained at all today, only remained overcast.