Damaged Goods (COMPLETE)

Chapter EIGHT

        2 months have gone by and Maria has yet to come back, I'm still in the hospital and I still don't have anyone. They've been talking about discharging me from the hospital but where am I suppose to go? Go live in that big house with no one in it? I'd go crazy just staring at walls. But I guess that's where I'm gonna have to go.

..........

             I walk up to the house. I haven't even stepped inside yet and I already feel different. The house is radiating loneliness. As I turn the doorknob my heart drops; I still expected to hear my children. Eliott crying and Julissa running around. Stepping in, the walls are bare. Our engagement party pictures that we framed are gone. The pictures of Jules are gone. All that is left is two pictures of me. One's the picture of my mom holding me when I was born. My dad couldn't even get there on time. The other is with my Aunt Libra at my mom's funeral. I really have no clue why people were taking pictures. I sneeze and instantly it is echoed throughout the entire house. I take the picture of me and my aunt and throw it as hard as I can, which isn't very hard seeing as I haven't used my hands in 2 months. Sadly, all my memory has returned, and now I remember. I remember the accident. I remember driving to get Maria from the doctors'. Everything was going well with the pregnancy and soon we'd have a healthy baby boy. I see a yellow light and decide to just slow down. I don't need to rush. The light quickly turns back to green from red and I start to do the speed limit which is about 30 miles per hour. I come to a stop sign and stop. At this particular intersection I have a stop sign but they don't. However, I am turning right so it is okay. I switch on my signal and I see that the car coming is far away. I begin to turn and all of a sudden a truck hits me. It's a large truck, a tractor trailer sort of thing and I start to feel woozy. I then black out.

         After recalling that horrid memory, I begin to cry. I sit and ponder on a daily basis what I did to have her leave me. I wonder... Was I too clingy? Did I work too much? This is all Deonte's fault. No! It's Chrizzy's fault. 5 years ago, at the tender age of 17 if I had just dealt with women my age, I'd be okay. I would have never met Maria. But then I would've never have had Julissa and Eliott. Sometimes I ask myself they remember who I am. I know Eliott doesn't but does Jules? Does my daughter remember her mother being in the hospital and sleeping in those metal chairs? Does she remember when we took her to buy her big girl Easter dress for the first time? Does she remember when we told her she'd have a little brother? Does she remember picking Eliott's name and telling her friends at daycare that she'd be a big sister? Does she remember going to the baby store and picking out clothes? Does she remember me and her driving to the grocery store in the middle of the day because Maria had cravings? Does she remember anything?

             I walk up the grand staircase and see that Julissa's bedroom is empty. Her bright pink princess bed is missing. Her stuffed penguin and lion are no longer here. Her purple tutus that hang in front of her closet are gone. I walk further down the hallway only to see that our bedroom is bare. The crib we bought is gone. Maria's dozens of dresses are no longer here. Anything that signified us is gone. Sitting down on our bed, I see one single photo on the tv. It is the picture of when I ask Maria to marry me. Why did she leave it? Why did I ask her to marry me? Why was this the woman I wanted to spend the rest of life with? She was so kind, so beautiful. Not just her looks, her soul was beautiful. She always wanted the best for those she loved, even though her mother left her here all alone, she respected her and treated her with love. She was good then. She was always good. Five years and no bad. All we fought about was college. Yes, I ended up going and actually graduated early. We fought because I didn't wanna keep going on with school and she wanted me to. I soon realized she just wanted was best for our family. That was another reason for loving her. She was caring and compassionate. She was also so honest. And most importantly she was mine.

                I bat my eyes rapidly trying to blink away the tears. I turn toward the lamp and see her ring. It is just sitting there like it did every morning when she would take a shower, or when she'd wash the dishes. When I would walk up behind her while she was washing them and hug her. I would usually end up scaring her, though you'd think she'd have caught on. That time that she broke her leg so I had to help her shower. The times that we had were perfect, what could have gone wrong. I remember that she is gone. That she left me. That she doesn't love me anymore. I jump up and begin going crazy. I grab the lamp smashing it into the wall. I throw myself into the wall fists first, creating holes. Blood is smeared onto the walls from the glass. I slid down the wall hold my hand and crying. She was suppose to love me. She told she loved me. She promised me always. Always.