When Your World is Washed Away

When Your World is Washed Away - Chapter 4

When Your World is Washed Away - Chapter 4

"It all started about a year ago, when I used to live in Mexico.

"I was out with my family at The Beach, and it was such a happy day, all smiles and laughter. We had ice cream... walked on the boardwalk... shopped... It was just like any other good Saturday. After a while, mom said she wanted to go swimming.

"She loved the ocean, the sea creatures just fascinated her completely. I remember, she would go snorkeling for hours, and spend forever describing every detail of everything she had seen. My brother, Kyle, he shared this interest... no... obsession with my mom. I used to be annoyed by how close they were, I wanted to be close to dad like that. I realise now how stupid that was, I should have treasured every moment I spent with them, and not have been so irritated and sulky.

"I have many regrets, but what I did next was by far the worst. If I could go back to that moment and change what I said, I would have. But maybe, they died for a reason. Maybe this hell I live in everyday is my punishment, my punishment for being so self-absorbed and carefree, for being so naive. After all, I deserve it.

"I deserve the pain, the self-torture, but they didn't. Mom and Kyle, and now dad. They lost everything, and I'll go to Hell for it, I'll go to Hell, but maybe I'm already there.

"You see, I was just so jealous of how much of a connection Kyle and my mom had... ugh.. I hate myself... I was so selfish... They were walking down the beach, and dad had gone into some shop, I was trailing behind, I-I screamed at them, told them t-to go to Hell, I pushed them away, it's my fault Zack, it's my fault they... I can't do this. I... I just can't. I'm sorry Zack.

"I can't tell you, I can't care about you, I can't depend on you. Dependence is weakness, and I have to be independent. If I start to care, to want you, to need you... I'll get hurt just like every other time. And you'll get hurt too. You can't get hurt, I won't let you, and that in itself means I already care. So I can't. I won't. Never. I'm sorry Zack..."

The tears streamed down my face as I looked up to see Zack's expression. I expected disappointment, anger, maybe pity, but he just gave me the most honest, innocent look, and I knew for sure that I couldn't hurt him, I wouldn't hurt him.

So, I stood up, pushed him away, and ran, and as I ran I realized, I was hurting him, hurting him  by leaving, and hurting him by staying. I knew I would be back. I was too selfish to stay away for long, too self-absorbed, but I needed this, so I left. So in a way, me leaving, was also selfish.

I left the boy with the broken eyes, that were even more broken than before, and walked into the broken world, with a broken look in my eyes, right onto the less broken bus, to a broken home.

At some point, I transferred from a less broken bus, to a brand new bus, but I never fixed anything else. So, I went into my so called "home" and walked past my foster parents up to my room. They didn't really care what a to me, as long as the checks kept coming, but it touched my heart to know they cared the littlest bit more then the rest of the world.

I cried myself to sleep, missing the warm embrace of Zack, and the familiarity of the padded cell floor, because all I had left were memories, and I didn't want to make new ones, so I lived in the past, day in and day out. My pillow was soaked through, and two-day-old mascara stained my face, as I stared at the pocket knife on my bedside table. I wouldn't. I couldn't.

I lay there like that all night, unsleeping, staring at the last thread of my sanity, over there on my bedside table. Knowing what the decision meant, but I never got to choose, before my alarm went off.

School.

Great, just great.

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