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I was all too familiar with death. I mean, both my my parents were deceased. I had been in many group homes where people had died by suicide. I was used to it. It didn't phase me but this, Destiny being murdered for being in the wrong place at the wrong time had hit me hard. I knew her. I talked to her. Pathetically she was the only friend I had. I had to wonder how it happened.
Did she suffer?
Was it painful?
Did she plead for her life?
Why hadn't she hid like I taught her?
Could it have been avoided?
The police said the place was practically turned on its head. Everything was torn apart and busted down. Maybe she did hide but got found. Then she was asphyxiated. Someone wrapped their hands around her throat or used something that could do the job around until she couldn't breathe anymore. And as if that wasn't enough they beat her up beforehand. I couldn't bare to think about what else had happened prior to her untimely passing.
The whole thing made me want to vomit. It made me wish I was there. I could have done something. Protected her. Or maybe we'd both be gone. That option seemed better than knowing she was gone for good.
I thought that death couldn't affect me anymore. I was numb after my parents passed. I told Jane I didn't remember them but of course that was a lie. I remember my mother getting the news about my father. The police came to our small apartment in the late of night and I remember my mother breaking down into loud sobs. She screamed. She pleaded for it not to be true. I was young but I got the gist of it. I cried for my father but even harder for my mother.
Then she changed. She just caved in on herself.
She stopped working. She stopped cooking. She stopped caring. She just cried all the time. She would send me next door to a young couple who never felt like I was a bother. I can't remember their names but they made me feel like everything was okay even though I knew it wasn't. Although she was a shell of herself she would always knock on our neighbors door around ten to come get me.
One night she just didn't. She asked them if I could stay the night. They still felt empathetic even though so many months had passed. I remember staying there all day and night and another night again waiting for my mother. She didn't come. It had gotten late. She still didn't come. The woman walked me across the hall and knocked on our door but we got no answer. The door was unlocked. She turned the knob. We walked in and she immediately pushed me behind her and told me to close my eyes.
She was too late.
My mother was laying on the floor face down in what looked to be vomit. The woman called for her boyfriend who immediately took me out the apartment. I remember him picking me up and telling me it was going to be alright. He was lying. I knew that. I didn't even cry. I couldn't. I kind of felt like it was coming. I wasn't familiar with suicide but I just knew she would do something. I knew it would be bad.
