Hiss, Rattle and Bite

Sunrise on December 25th | Part 12

Dying alone and full of regret, Marigold couldn't think of a worse fate. Is this what I deserve? She was certain her parents wished her dead. More so, they wished her brother was alive and that she was not.

Heath died from alcohol poisoning four years ago at a college party she hosted before spring break. Under the guise of cheering up her brother, she threw together an unforgettable dorm room party.

Mari knew he was depressed from his recent breakup, that he wasn't much of a drinker, and that he'd rather play video games or watch a movie with her. But she desperately wanted to show off her brilliant brother, the medical school student. Mari wanted her peers to see her as more than the shy, straight-A student they could buy study notes from.

Focused on looking sexy and acting cool, she didn't stop to think about what he needed from her that day. She thrust her reserved brother at her friends and pressured him to play one drinking game after another.

Then, her biology lab partner showed up. Mari invited Wen, but didn't think her crush would bother checking out her dorm room party. He came with friends. They looked elitist and out of place among the nerds and bohemians mingling in tight quarters.

Wen approached as she completed one of her hourly circuits around the connected rooms, welcoming guests, discarding abandoned plastic cups and paper plates, and straightening knocked over decor. He complimented her. In his company, the ever present giant ball of tension with its unknown origins inside of Mari dissipated. Basking in the glow of his smile, her words flowed and her confidence grew.

Sometime after playing beer pong, and before experiencing her first kiss while away at college, she lost track of her brother. Swept up in the success of her party and the sparks flying between her and her crush, she let go of her self-consciousness and her compassion. One unexpected, yet highly dreamt of, kiss from Wen and Mari didn't concern herself with her brother's whereabouts or wellbeing until the next morning.

However, morning came too late and reality struck too early.

A little after five o'clock in the morning, while tip toeing on cold hardwood floors as she made her way to the bathroom, Marigold tripped over a pile of clean but unfolded laundry. She landed on something soft yet firm, and quickly realized it was a hand.

Kneeling, her eyes followed the cold and limp hand to the attached arm and face. She sighed in relief when she confirmed that the sleeping man was all in one piece. Mari never experienced extreme violence or death before and blamed the abundance of crime dramas on TV for allowing her mind to jump to such a terrifying assumption.

"You idiot," she said mildly to whom she now recognized as her sleeping brother. "Wake up." She gave his shoulder a gentle shove with her bare foot to help him along. Half expecting him to grab her foot or yell, his stillness surprised her. "Heath, get up."

Knowing he slept lightly, her brows furrowed with concern. Mari gave him a not so gentle shove with her foot and stepped back. Surprised that he didn't awaken in outrage, her eyes blurred with unshed tears. Her stomach soured and twisted. Feeling both weak and heavy, she dropped back down to the floor.

"Heath," Mari whispered as she touched his face.

Dull, dry skin clashed with his peaceful look of slumber. She cried when he didn't respond to her last attempt to wake him up. She cried as she laid beside him on the cold floor and ignored the world for a moment. She cried when she retrieved her cell phone and dialed 911 to reach emergency services.

She called her parents next. And after the worst phone conversation of her life, she was out of tears and barely able to talk through her sore throat. By the time the police and ambulance arrived, her shock had turned into numbness. Taciturn, she mustered enough energy and focus while in survival mode to answer a thousand accusatory and repetitious questions in a monotone "yes" or "no."

The three weeks that followed were the longest, loneliest days of her life. On one ill-fated morning, she lost her brother, her parents, her motivation to learn, and her ability to feel.

Marigold's desire to die for the past four years may not have been healthy or admirable, but it was understandable. According to her and her family, Mari was already dead.

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