I was so exhausted from all the people I'd lost. All the things that had managed to all completely collapse in just a matter of months. I lost way too many people than any normal person could handle without going crazy. It was as if everything could go wrong in my life. It almost felt unreal.
I sat there, in the police station, sitting next to Connor and a few other people who happened to show up after what had happened at the dance. We'd been sitting there, motionlessly, staring at the floor for hours; while we sat in those unbearably uncomfortable chairs. I knew that Connor kept taking moments to stare at me and see if I'd moved a muscle; I hadn't. If people didn't see me enter the room, they'd think I'm a decorative statue.
My skin was, noticeably pale. After my breakdown, during the moment, I was practically being swarmed with all different kinds of questions about myself. Although, at the time, I couldn't have given less of a damn about myself. I hated myself for numerous reasons, while I sat there, staring at the colorful designs in the flooring of the building. One, being that I didn't give any efforts in trying to get Addison to forgive me, when it came to the Connor situation. It was as if, for one terribly coincidental moment in my life, I wasn't empathetic about how she felt about it. The fact that I was blinded by my own selfishness; I regretted every thing I could have ever said to her about it. I had lost just about everyone in my life that I had ever cared about; which meant, I couldn't help but feel like I had to cling by Connor's side from that point forward; if I lost him, too, there could've even been the fact that I'd lose the will to live, myself.
"After leaving the scene, it looks to be that he shot himself in the head," I heard one of the police officers say, near the front counter. Then, I tried to get my mind off of the relaying images of it that were already haunting me. I was trying to draw my focus on the kind of insanity that would drown through the man's head to break into a school, on a Saturday, shoot someone, then shoot himself. He'd only managed to injure and kill one person; and out of all the hundreds of people who went to that school; it ended up being my best friend. The statistics were always after me. I didn't know what it meant to have that many things go wrong in my life; and I had no idea how I was even managing to handle it, without completely losing my mind. It was as if I couldn't break. Stubbornly, I just let the pain get to me as if it was an everyday scenario; and when it came to my life, that's almost what it was.
"Hey," Connor whispered, reaching over to take my hand after it'd been sitting there, on my leg, doing nothing, like the rest of me, "wanna go home?"
I didn't even remember why we were still at the station; or how long we'd even be there, in the first place. I just went there, as we were directed to; to be asked a few questions, but we were permitted to leave hours before. I just didn't.
"Yeah," my voice was nearly muted from all the screaming.
He gently smiled over at me then helped me out of the chair; and as soon as we were out the door, he still never let go of my hand until we had to separate to get into the car.
-
After spending almost everyday of that summer with Connor, our families left a completely open gate on us practically being together for weeks without having Connor check in at home. He called them, of coarse, but they trusted him with me.
And as soon as we got home, my grandpa was there by the front door. He looked petrified, when he saw me. He threw his arms around me, as if he hadn't seen me in ages, "I'm so glad you're okay." He whispered, setting his hand on the back of my head. I hadn't seen him since what had happened. I could imagine that all he would've gotten was a horrible call from the police station when Connor and I were there.
And as he was trying to hold me and get me to tell him all about how I was fine, I just stared at the floor. There was nothing going through my head, other than the remainder of two things; the horrifying flashes of what I could remember happening right in front of me, and the fact that I'd managed to lose as many people as I had.
"Goodnight, grandpa," I smiled and let go of him so I could back away. He even looked like he would be on the verge of tears. He knew that I would be hurting. After the loss of Grams and Tyler and now Addison. There was too many people dying, it made me want to tear my hair out. There would be nobody else in my life that I could mentally handle losing. I was surprised I was holding on after the one's I'd lost already.
I locked myself up in my room, while Connor just sat on the floor and looked up at me. The sympathetic look on his face was heartbreaking, but it meant the world that he cared so much, "You're tired," he tells me, "you should try and get some sleep."
"I can't," my voice sounded more like a muted whisper. I was maintaining any crying, mostly due to the fact that that was all I'd done that day. I had a gaze locked on the carpet, wishing that I could just snap out of the insanity I felt like I was a part of.
Then he stood up from where he was sitting. I watched him get comfortable while he sat beside me, and to see that he did so, I didn't even have to move my eyes from the motionless places I was watching.
He unfolded a blanket that was set near the end of my bed, and he wrapped it around my shoulders, then he wrapped his arm around that, too, "Sky," he spoke quietly, probably trying to make me sleepy. He moved a strand of my hair away from my face and tried to get me to look at him. And after a second of having his hand on the side of my face, I finally looked over at him, "you had a long day. You just need to let yourself forget about it."
And I just blinked quickly, resisting any type of crying that might've been prying it's way through me.
"I'll be right here when you wake up. And tomorrow will be a new day,"
I was just staring at him, now. He had a way with his words, even if he didn't say that much. He was perfect.
"we'll go for a drive. Just you and me; twelve o'clock."
and I smiled, this time it wasn't forced, "Twelve o'clock."
I lied on my side, trying to just keep my eyes closed and relax, the way he wanted me to. And he ran his hand through my hair. When I was half asleep, after a while, he pulled me closer; and it was so easy to just fall asleep, at that point. I don't know how he did it. Just one of the many things he knew how to do.
Tomorrow will be a new day.
YOU ARE READING
Imperfect | est. 2015
Teen Fiction"but that's the fun part," she says, "you can't tell a soul."
