One Shots

The Stars Don't Shine As Bright Anymore

Trigger warning: Suicide and mentions self harm, drug use, and alcohol abuse

     Nalia and I grew up in a small town just off the New Mexico and Arizona border. The days were long and hot, but the nights were short and cold. We were neighbours. Our houses sat side by side with only a small off white fence separating our yards.
     A dirt path just off of the road led to the pond. There-- frogs, dragonflies, fish, and other animals settled. Every afternoon after school, we would walk back to our street and take the path to the pond.
     It was our special place. For years that was our routine. We'd go to the pond and talk until dark, watching the stars shine over us, then rush to our homes for dinner. Until we were 17. The next day at school, Nalia wasn't there. I had assumed she was sick and let it go for the moment.
     The school day was boring and oddly darker than normal. During 8th period, 30 minutes before the bell rang, I looked at her empty desk that was positioned right in front of mine. The desk had miscellaneous carvings decorating it. It was old and probably never going to get replaced. I spotted the carving of our names and smiled.
     She's been sick before but that day just felt different, and it was. After school I took my normal walk to the pond. There I saw her. She was covered in bruises and crying. I ran to her and hugged her as tight as I could without hurting her.
    I looked at her and wiped tears from her puffy, red eyes and we sat in silence for a bit. The only thing that was heard was the animals and her quiet crying. I knew she didn't feel like talking just yet so all we did was sit there.
    When she was finally ready to open up, I listened. Her pink tear-stained cheeks got redder as she wiped her face with the sleeve of her brown crew neck sweater. She looked up and told me that her mom has relapsed and she got mad at Nalia for waking up late.
     She broke a glass bottle over her head and cut the top of her arms. Then she beat her to a pulp and stopped only to scream at her more. When she stopped screaming, she saw what she had done and started crying, hastily apologizing.
    Nalia had run out of the house and had been crying ever since. she said at first, it was the pain of the bruises and cuts but then it was the fear and sadness of her mother's alcohol problem coming back.
    I looked at her, tears spilling out of my own eyes after the story. after talking for a but, we decided to sleep near the pond and look at the stars. Holding her hand, we walked to my house and grabbed sleeping bags. She stayed on my bed while I went to ask my mom where they were. She was curious about it but I had told her that I couldn't get into it, but I needed to sleep at the pond with Nalia that night.
    She located them and I went to my room to grab her and we walked out. The night wasn't as cold this time and the moon was full. We laid down the mats and looked up at the stars. Each of them were so glowy and beautiful. Their placements were special and unchanging. They were always bright and comforting.
     That night was the best night ever. Even though bad things happened, we were together-- and safe. Nothing could bring us down until the morning.
     Weeks passed and nothing was getting better at home for Nalia. She started cutting herself. There was nothing I could do to stop her. No matter how hard I tried to convince her to stop, she couldn't. But I wasn't going to leave her alone. I promised I would be there no matter what.
    One day, on January 25, she knocked on my door and gave me a hug. I was shocked but a little hugged her back and smiled. She asked if we could go to the pond and spend the day there. I smiled and told my mom id be back later. We talked about a lot but started to play games that we used to play as kids.
    First was tag, I chased her around the edge of the pond and on the doc and tagged her. She chased me back and it went on and on until we were out of breath, laughing. Then we played kiss marry kill- something that wouldn't make us sweaty and tired. We played until we had basically named ever guy in the school and every celebrity we knew-- which was only about 20 minutes.
    Lastly, we played store, using frogs as items to buy and grass as currency. We played it until dark. We giggled and sat down afterwards. The stars shined brighter than I've ever seen them shine. Happiness radiated from the dark sky along with us. Frogs croaked and the cat tails swayed in the wind that blew lightly.
    After a few hours of looking at the sky and talking, she walked me back to my house. At my door, she stopped and gave me a tight hug before gently saying, "I love you." I looked at her and smiled, a little confused at her tone change but not paying too much attention to it; "I love you too Nal." She walked back to her house and i walked inside.
     The next day, her sister knocked on our door crying. She had found Nalia in her room with blood everywhere. She had slit her own wrists within the night. I didn't know how to react at first but when it hit me, I broke down.
     The whole day I stayed in my room, refusing to eat. I did this for the rest of the week too. I got a text from my mom telling me that they set the date for her funeral. It was February 2nd... her birthday. after the 3 days had passed my body was weaker than ever. But I still pushed myself to go.
     When we arrived, I saw Nalia's mom. She reeked of alcohol. I looked at her in disgust and walked passed her saying, "this is all your fault." Just loud enough for her to hear. She looked down, ashamed but I didn't pity her at all. Her addiction caused her daughters death but that still wasn't enough for her to stop. It's as if she has no feelings and the "ashamed" look is all for show. 
     The funeral was sad and the sky had a foggy, bland feeling. The air was cold and sharp. I looked down into Nalia's casket, crying-- ready to breakdown as soon as I went home. I said my final goodbye to my best friend and then they lowered the casket down. She was buried right beside the pond.
      I often visit her, bringing dark crimson roses-- hoping she will recognise my mourning from beyond the grave. Sometimes I talk to her, too. I try to fill her in on everything that's happening in my life and how I'll forever miss my best friend. She will forever live in my heart. I still look up at the stars, gazing at the constellations we used to point out together. But now, the stars don't shine as bright anymore.