Disconnected

Chapter Twenty-two (Broken glass)

I lie in bed thoughts roaming my head freely. For some reason, my mind keeps going back to what Brittany said about becoming better getting, better and being your own hero. My thoughts drift back to months ago when everything started to change, when I started to rebuild me.

It all started the day my mother found out about my sister, Ashley's smoking addiction. I had known about it. I herd her cough all the time, I found one of her lighters in the bathroom. I gave it back to her and I didn't react, nor was I lying when I said I didn't care. I was so broken on the inside. Sometimes I think I'm being dramatic, but deep down inside I know I'm not. I didn't feel anything not even pain.

I was down stairs in the living room on the couch pretending to watch TV when I heard my mom shriek at Ashley. I didn't why at first. But Ashley was never careful with her lighters. A big part of me believes that the reason I and even mom found so many was because she wanted us to know in a sick and twisted way.

"Why did I find this in my car Ashley?" I peaked into the kitchen to see what they were fighting about. I saw mom holding up a black lighter with pink bunny's on it. This wasn't the first time Ashley was caught smoking. She did it on her birthday party. One of friends offered a smoke and she took it. I think may have done it a few times before that, but still she got busted and my our parents had grace and didn't a huge deal out of it. Instead they grounded her for two weeks. She was still seventeen back then.

Ashley sat on the kitchen counter. Silent. She didn't say anything.

"You said it was a one-time thing," mom yelled, "You lied to me!"

"Mom I--."

"No! None of this . . . This nonsense! Once was bad enough now you choose to go behind my and your father's back and do it! This isn't okay! First Andrew and now you." My mom had tears in her eyes, "Were going to your father now."

"Mom!"  Ashley said, she sounded like a annoyed teenager. That made mom blow up. I guess that's how it is when you have so much anger that it builds up and bursts out.

"Shut up!" My mom yelled at her and took Ashley's arm dragging her to mom and dad's  bedroom.

I felt tears prick my eyes. This is how it always be. I don't  want to live anymore! I know my thoughts were dumb childish even. But I was so sick of it. I couldn't even breathe anymore. My sisters had my parents stressed out to the point that at any moment, the wrong word, clothing that revealed too much, anything  could set them off. My parents are good people, but even good people can only take so much.

The kitchen was a mess that day and I thought I should clean it up. I didn't want mom to more upset. One of the reasons I hated doing dishes so much was mom and dad always yelled about them lately; it scarred me whenever they got angry. Well I guess not scared becuase honestly I  didnt feel, but being yelled at by your parents always has that certain something that your dred.

I didn't want to live, I wanted to stop, to stop moving, to stop breathing, stop existing. I was so afraid inside. I was afraid of my mom  yelling at me. I was afraid of Emily. I was afraid of people. I was afraid of myself. I was afraid that I was too far gone already. I was afraid to break the glass in my hand.

That thought stopped me. Was I really afraid to drop a glass?  We had brick floor so it would shatter, but still why be afraid of a glass.

I looked at the glass. It was tall and part of a set we had at are house. I don't know how to explain, but I knew if I could break the glass. If I could just drop it on the floor I knew I could change. I knew I could overcome the darkness around me. It was an epiphany moment. I believed in that moment, I could overcome anything if I  droped this glass I could move on, I could do anything.

So I opened my hand, but I caught the glass before it hit the ground. This is so stupid!  I can't do this. But it's my only chance. I tried to drop it two more times and I caught each time. What's wrong with me I can't even drop the stupid glass.

Just then my sister Brittany walked by me heading towards her bedroom. She looked and me and frowned you could still here Ashley and mom and dad screaming fighting over cigarettes.  Cigarettes a poison. I hope Ashley was happy because it felt like the nicotine from the cigarettes were seeping into are family. But we weren't all addicted to cigarettes, no. We were addicted to pain.

Brittney shook her head lightly and walked out of the room not even a second after she did.  I dropped it. I dropped the glass on the brick floor. Maybe it was the realization that didn't have to be them. I didn't have to be my sisters,  brother, or parents.  I could be my own self. 

To be truthful I thought it would sound different. I thought it would last longer. Sure I've broken a glass before; I know what it should sound like, but I imagined that it would sound ... different this time, because I dropped it on purpose. I didn't drop it out of spite or shock or anger. I dropped it to feel. I dropped the glass to feel again to know that I could feel. I dropped it to prove to myself that I could.  

The glass shattered. It was everywhere. Some of the bits ended up in the living room and dining room. Never in my life had I seen anything shattered like that glass. It shattered into thousands of pieces. 

"Oh my gosh! Carmen are you okay?" Brittany had walked back in to see what was happening.

"Yeah I'm fine," I looked at her, "I dropped the glass, it shattered. I'm OK, but I don't have any shoes on can you grab me a pair and I'll start to clean it up."

"Did you get cut?" Brittany said concerned.

"No, I'm fine. I just need shoes."

"Okaaay . . . " She said and walked away. 

As soon as she left I smiled, I can't explain the relief I felt at that moment. Now this didn't mean from every day on I felt better, that I was better. No. In fact, I still have plenty of bad days, but it felt like getting a cold and about the third day your not all better, but the worst of it is over. 

I been thinking about what Brittany said about being your own superhero. Choosing to change, choosing to be happy. Before that day I didn't believe in the whole, "choosing to be happy" thing, but after I dropped the glass I realized what it meant. It's not choosing to be happy, it's choosing between life and death the moment you back down or you get back up for another round. The moment you choose to be your own hero or the victim witch in the end turns into the villain. When you're your own hero it's possible to be someone else's hero. I do believe if I didn't drop that glass I wouldn't be here and if I was I wouldn't really be me, I'd be a dead man walking.

That night I went to the city park and swung on the swing set for a long time figuring out how I would change that was the last time I was there; well before I went there with Kent.

as I lay in bed recalling the events of that night and today I realize something. Chantelle told Brittany that story right? Because Chantelle is Ashley and Brittany's therapist. And the kid was wearing a superman t-shirt. Why would that matter unless his name was something like, Kent Clarkson superman's name backwards! That story . . . was it Kent's story?

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The chapter that inpired me to write the entier book. Please if you vote or comment on one chapter plaese let it be thi one.