Tribulation [h.s]

24

"I know I'll fall in love with you, baby
And that's not what I wanna do
I hope you won't ever lie to me
And if you do, I know I won't be your cry baby."

-

It's moments like this where I miss being high.

I miss the distraction. I miss the relief and the pleasure that would flow through my body. The first hit was always like a breath of fresh air after being trapped underwater for too long. It was a headrush. It was ecstasy. It was paradise. I never got high just for that feeling, though. I got high to forget, but forgetfulness is fleeting.

Everything would be so much easier if I could just forget everything, wouldn't it?

I've lost count of how many nervous breakdowns I've had. I've lost count of how many nights I've woken up screaming. I've lost count of how many nights I spent trying to beat the memories out of my head, but that never worked. Nothing ever fucking works.

In a darkened haze, I made dinner. I bathed Maggie and combed her hair. I sang to her in hushed whispers. I pushed through smiles that never reached my eyes and laughs that were more rueful than joyful. She never caught on, so I kept up the theatrics until she seemed to be okay again. Then, I read her book and only stopped when her soft snores filled her bedroom.

The second I was alone, I called Julie. I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to contact her with our relationship being so rocky, but she's really the only comfort I've ever known. Who else was I supposed to call? After all, I just wanted to hear her voice to remind myself that I have people in my life worth fighting for. But Julie knows me. She knows something happened. 

The breakdown had already begun when she walked through my front door with her spare key.

Rocking back and forth on cold tiled floors, hands ripping at frazzled hair, body trembling from screams that are swallowed and pushed down.

Sobbing, begging, breaking.

"Make it stop, make it stop, please make it stop."

But, not even Julie's touch could stop the memory of my mother's death from playing over and over again in my head. No one could ever bring me back from that ledge once I fell over it. Not even Julie, who helped me stand from the kitchen floor and laid me down in my bed. Not even Julie, who spends the whole night holding me and telling me everything will be alright.

Maggie's question replayed in my head over and over, her small voice clustered with the screams of my mother.

"Mommy was killed?"

Yes. She was, and I wasn't strong enough to save her.

How am I supposed to explain that to Maggie? How am I supposed to tell her that I killed our mother when death isn't even a concept she can fully grasp just yet? One day, I won't be able to avoid this question anymore. One day, she'll figure everything out.

One day, she'll hate me.

When the torture from my own mind became too much, sleep consumed me entirely.

-

The smell of something burning rouses me.

It burns the inside of my nose and the back of my throat unpleasantly. It's only after that that I can feel just how dry my mouth is. Even though it feels like dead weight in my mouth, I move my tongue and run it over my chapped lips. I become painfully aware of how heavy and dense my body feels when everything begins to ache. Groaning, I drag my blanket over my head to block out the early sun's rays that are peaking through my blinds.