I felt completely and utterly numb.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Sirens were going off behind me but I barely noticed them. I hugged the blanket around me tightly; like maybe if I held it close enough, I'd wake up laying in my bed watching my dad tuck me in.
Two paramedics came out of the house pushing a body with a cover over it on a gurney. I shook my head slowly-as if this action would somehow make all of this go away.
"No! I cried, "Please! Mom, you can't leave me too! I'll have no one! Please don't leave me alone!" Four strong arms held me back from running to my mom. After what felt like hours of pushing and pulling away from them, my legs finally gave out and I crumpled onto the wet gravel and sobbed.
All the what ifs and the I should've's played over and over in my head as I played back all that had happened that day.
Flashback
I woke up gasping. All I could think about was Air. Air, air, air, I repeated over and over in my head but it wasn't enough. I was doing everything I could to feel that wonderful sensation of air passing through my lungs again but nothing came. I was wheezing and holding my throat until, slowly, the air returned to my lungs like a flood gate of joyful noise after a century of longing for it and I fell utterly relieved.
I realized I had never really wanted to die. Maybe that was my excuse- like I was too prideful to admit my defeat- even though I knew I had lost the war ages ago, but the battles just kept coming.
I had never given much thought as to how I would die. When I was a child I thought with no doubt in my mind that it was absolutely impossible for someone I love to die. Because when I love someone, they're the universe. They become the gravity holding my body to this earth. Like my entire being was made just for that one person. I thought there was absolutely no possible way for something so strong and absolute to just... Disappear. But that was before. Before everyone I loved left me. Even my mom. Technically, she's not dead, but my mom? She's the hollow depths of a broken china doll- It may be the same texture, look and appearence of what it once was,but even after being glued back together, it'll never really be the same, you know? Loss after loss, she cracked a little each time. Until Brenton. That's when she broke. That was when every cell that made up who she was-every fiber of her being-vanished into thin air. And this monster was created in its place. ...Sometimes glue isn't strong enough to hold us together so alcohol and pills suffice. When this all had started, I truly thought she had been possessed. It made more sense than this.
Each bone in my body ached with every little movement I made. The bruises that felt like the end of the world just yesterday felt a million times less prominent compared to the feeling that my whole body was slowly and painfully being scorched by the burning flames of what was my mothers rage. A scream nearly escaped my lips when the pain of my broken arm shot through my body once again. Feeling confused and not knowing exactly what to do with myself or how, I tried my best to stand up but found it immensely difficult. I dragged my body towards the mirror and stared intently at my reflection. I knew I couldn't go to school even if I put on six tons of makeup. But... I wanted to stay home even less so I slipped on a hoodie and, still wearing the same clothes as the day before, I climbed out the window away from my mother.
**************
Nostalgia filled the air around me. Everywhere I looked held a memory I had- good and bad. Then, I noticed the big glass bank that held the worst memory of them all. A lump raised in my throat as I relived it, thinking back to my happy family.
We were the cliché kind. My mother, a stay at home mom, would help us with homework, comfort us when we were sad, and relax with Brenton and me when my dad wasn't home. Everyday when my father came home, he would kiss us all on the cheek and we would sit down to eat dinner like the happy family we were.
Then, tragedy struck.
We were waiting for the good news of my fathers promotiom when we got a phone call and rushed over to his office building. The whole bank was glass so I could see everything that was happening inside even though the policemen refused to let us anywhere close. But I was a stupid 11 year old at the time. I believed in happy endings and that good triumphs over bad no matter what. So I ran past the policemen and SWAT team into the bank to help my dad. "Daddy!" I had cried.
The robber turned towards me and looked at me, astonished. I remember his exact facial expression after this. I remember his raised eyebrow and the smirk that I'll forever have ingrained inside my memory that appeared on his face as he raised his small hand gun and pointed it at me. "Say goodbye, 'daddy'," he laughed. Before I knew it, he had fired the gun straight at by heart. I heard the shot but felt nothing. Confused, I looked up to see the man laughing and my father on the tile floor, surrounded by a crimson pool.
I remember exactly how the warm tears that fell from my face felt against my skin as if they were falling at that exact moment. I remember my fathers face losing color before my eyes and his exact words to me. He told me that it wasn't my fault and that it was just his time to go. He told me that I have to take care of my mother and Brent no matter what. He made me promise that I wouldn't beat myself up over it. And after all this, I watched the man who loved me most in the world become a limp body with a hole is its chest in my very arms. I witnessed his eyes roll to the back of his head and my life slowly drain away.
Fresh tears slid down my cheeks and I didn't even bother to wipe them away. A few strangers asked if I was okay but I quietly brushed them off. Why do people ask that, I wondered. Why do people have to ask if someone is okay when clearly they're not? I get asked that by teachers, counselors... everyone. Why do they believe me when I say I am? Is it just the easier route? So they don't have to put time and effort into helping someone? I kneeled by the doors of the building and cried until I felt a gentle hand be placed on my back. "Are you alright?" A deep voice asked me softly.
Finally, I slowly shook my head. "No," I managed to get out. "Not by a long shot."
The man pulled me up off the ground and embraced me as I cried into his shoulder. He had no idea who I was and I sure as heck didn't know him but he continued to accept my embrace. I appreciated it dearly but found it a bit creepy so I sniffled and pulled away.
"Thanks," I muttered. I finally got a good look at his face and was surprised. He looked much older than me but was very handsome. He was maybe in his late 20's or so.
"Any time," he smiled. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I rolled my eyes and laughed dryly. "How much time do you have?"
"As long as you need," he smiled.
"Not long enough," I muttered.
He gave me a thoughtful look and sighed. "I'll see you around then." I had secretly hoped he would be stubborn and demand for me to tell him what was wrong but ,of course, nothing goes as I hope. I sighed too and turned around to walk away when he pulled me back.
"What's your name by the way?" He inquired.
I thought for a second about telling him a fake name but felt there really was no point. "Haylie," I answered, "Haylie Jensen."
"Haylie," he drawled, "Thats a beautiful name,". He squeezed my hand one last time and walked away.
I spent the rest of the time trying not to think. Not about my mom. Not about Brent. Not even about the man who's name I had yet to figure out. I just sat on a bench, watched the smoke of the cigarette dissipate into the cold autumn air, and didn't think.
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My hand grasped the doorknob tightly as if it were the only think keeping me on this earth and if I let go, it would float away. I took three deep breaths, getting ready for what was to come. Bravely stepping into the house, I held my breath, waiting for the screaming and blows to the face, yet nothing came. In fact, it was so quiet in this house I became afraid. My mother never ever left this early. No matter what. My legs gingerly walked me toward the kitchen and my heart stopped at what was before me. Bottles of pills and liquor were scattered about the floor and my mother was laying in the middle of it, unmoving.
I instantly ran towards her to checked her pulse but all I felt was her cool skin. I dialed 911 and asked what I could do but the lady on the other end of the phone told me nothing useful. "Mom, please wake up!" I pleaded, "I know that you have done some horrible things but I forgive you! With all my heart, I forgive you." My voice became a small whimper. "Please. You can't leave me too." My arms wrapped around her limp body and I let out a choked sob.
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A/N Sooo.... It's been a while. It takes a while for me to update because I want the chapter to be the best I can make it! ^-^ I'm really excited for what's to come and if you promote my story, I will definitely help you any way I can with yours! Pppllleeeaaassseee vote, comment, and tell me what you liked or disliked about this. Keep the feedback coming!
~Yours truly, Hadassah