The Impact

Care for a chat?

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Chapter 9: Care for a chat?

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'Funny thing is, I didn't think I'd find you here'

I had run away yesterday from the lake as soon as the figure was visible and it was needless to say that I was scared out of my mind. Something inside my mind was more alive now that forced me to hear voices that weren't even there and see things that scared me to no extent. When I had gotten home I went straight to my room. Nobody was home then and I had fallen asleep. It must have been the tiredness from lack of everything or the tiredness from processing the fact that I was no doubt going crazy. I was woken from my slumber by the sound of my door opening and my mother walking in.

"Lily?" she called my name when I refused to acknowledge her presence and stare at the ceiling.

"What mom?" my question came out in a more irritated tone than I had meant for it to come out and it made me flinch slightly. When she didn't respond I just asked louder this time "Yes?"

"What is this?" she said pointing to something I couldn't make out because my eyes remained glued to the ceiling where now a figure was starting to form.

"What's what?" the figure became clearer and looked like somebody hanging from the fan. I tried to shake the image off but it stayed there.

"I'm asking you!" my mother's voice snapped me back from the thoughts and I finally looked at her. Her eyes had rage in them and disappointed. Which emotion had more ratio? I couldn't make out. "What is wrong with you?! Get over it already, do you think it is easy for me to see my daughter like this?" her accusation caught me off guard and tried my best to control my anger but she wasn't giving up "What is wrong with you? I get it you loved Sam but it wasn't your fault! She made the decision and I shouldn't have to suffer from it!"

"You?" I got up and sat in an upright position "Who says you're the one suffering?"

"Well, it is my daughter that her suicide is tearing apart" was the reply

"Excuse me? You think she did this to you?" at this point I was practically yelling out my questions and I am sure my eyes looked gloomy with the furry because my vision wasn't even clear "She didn't do this mom! I have always been nothing but a maniac! I already had stuff to deal with but her death just made me more vulnerable and should have realized that before it got out of hand! You think I have fun at funerals, you think I am doing this on purpose? See that, the figure on the fan? You think I am making it up?!" I pointed to the ceiling where sure enough the figure remained but my mother's expression went from the anger to shock and soon a layer of fear covered all the emotion. Her voice was slightly cracked as she asked me the one question I had dreaded

"W-what figure?"

"Mom, don't tell me you don't see it!" I tried to keep my voice steady but the question was a give away to the fact that I had gone crazy. Of course my mother was mad; she had to deal with a crazy daughter. I suddenly felt guilty for all my accusations and tears started to flow. "I'm crazy" I half whispered to no one in particular. And all that I didn't need to happen started, I felt the voices coming back again as they whispered the unspoken truth to nobody but my own mind.

You killed her, so why are you alive?

You're a bad daughter

You should be dead

I clasped my hands over my ears and my mother just continued to stare at me in disbelief. The size of my room was suffocating me and I felt like tearing the walls apart. And my only choice was doing what I had been doing for the past week. Running away, so I did. I could hear mom trying to catch up with me as I burst out of the house but I yelled at her to stay back

"Mom I need time!" I either could have conveyed my message or she had lost me because the footsteps became lighter and lighter until they finally faded away. I ran to God knows where and didn't stop until it felt like my lungs would burst out. I had meant to run away from the voices but they had a speed that was the same as mine and only increased their loudness as I ran faster. I finally came to a halt at the one place I didn't want to be in. I hadn't thought that my legs would bring me here and I had no intention of coming here in my entire life. And even without noticing I hadn't only ran to the entrance but I was inside the place where the slow rustle of the leaves sent a shiver down my spine. And as soon as I became aware of my surroundings the voices stopped, maybe this was where they wanted me to be. Maybe I was being paranoid and maybe I should have been here in the first place. I take slow steps, the grass crumpling under my bare feet because I hadn't bothered to put shoes on. I walked ignoring all the stones that surrounded me, I wanted to think that they were just normal stones but I knew better that they were more than that. They were the proof of existence of the people that weren't here anymore. I stop when I come to the one that I should have visited a long time ago.

Sam Will

A loving daughter and friend

1998-2015

Death is a funny thing. Nobody really knows what it feels like, except for those that have been through it and they can't tell us how it is. Yet people think that killing themselves will solve their problems. How do you know it will? Have you experienced it? Or is it just a mere thought that the entire world believes. Because as far as I am concerned; just because your organs stop working doesn't mean it ends. In fact; it begins, quite possibly another journey of torture and pain for being hopeless and giving up.

I kneel down in front of the one thing that I had haunted me all the time. My hand automatically comes up to trace the words. The stone is cold and hard, just like the body that lies under the ground. I have read many stories where people come and talk to their loved ones that have passed away in the cemetery but when my own turn came I was dumbfounded, I had always knew that maybe someday I will have to do this; maybe for some aunt that was sick or maybe my grandparents but not once it had crossed my mind that I would be bent over the grave of my best friend who had killed herself. The tears that had dried up during the run didn't stop the new ones from flowing like a river and instead of saying anything I just sat their hunched over the tombstone as sobs wrecked my body. I had expected myself to cry but there were a few things that happened that I had not expected.

I hadn't expected to take out the blade in my pocket and carve fresh scars in my skin over Sam's grave.

I had not expected to let the ground she was buried underneath absorb the blood that fell on it and I had most definitely not expected to have a ghostly touch on my shoulders that felt more comforting than it should have as I cried over my best friend.

When nothing but what would most probably be a figment of my imagination held me with its ghostly cold touch that seemed to fade away in my skin.