Living For Death

Unplanned

I laid in my bed, listening to the raindrops fall on the roof above me. The rhythm of the drops lullaby usually puts me to sleep. Tonight was another one of those nights where I couldn't sleep. I got up and walked to my window. The drops were stuck to the window and the strikes of lightning were like a camera flash across the sky. The thunder was growling and making the ground shake with its mighty roar. I opened my window and stuck my arm out letting the rain soak into my skin making it cold and damp. I opened my window even more until there was no more window to open. I climbed out and stood on the roof. The rain kept coming and made my hair wet and stick to my neck. My clothes soon became soaked. I walked slowly towards the edge of the roof. Sticking out my foot past the gutter. I left it there hanging not knowing what I was going to do next.
I've don't this a million times... So why was I so nervous, so scared? I carefully sat down, my feet hanging over the edge. The rain still pelting down, making the lullaby a more intense rhythm. I looked up, the rain landing in my eyes. I stood back up and walked slowly back up to the window. I climbed in and took the towel that was hanging on my closet door from my last shower. The towel was somewhat dry when I wrapped it around my head. My mind was still clouded with so many thoughts.
I mean I couldn't complain. I never did. I always did this unusual stuff. Getting up in the middle of the night and going out for a walk, going on the roof when it was raining or even snowing. I mean it was a kind of soothing thing for me. I needed it of course. My life wasn't all sugar cookies and sprinkles you know.

I ran away from my parents at age 7. I couldn't stand their constant yelling at me. My father's drinking was getting worse and the hitting was getting harder. They always called me names like idiot, little piece of shit, worthless. So I did what all the little kids said they would do at one point in there life, run away. I left with just a small back pack filled with three outfits some food and a water bottle. Since I had no where to go and no family close enough to me, I went to the streets. I lived on the streets till I was 16. And I know what you're thinking, how could you survive 9 years on the streets? Well I met this older woman. Her name was Hazel. I would always call her Hazey. I always gave nicknames to people. It made them unique in my mind, and it kind of stuck. So Hazey took me in as her own. She was the sweetest person, much better than my parents. She gave me warm clothes and enough food to last me through the day. And she gave me a new name. Since being called shit, I needed a fresh start. She had renamed me Vivian, meaning alive. Hazey and I would always be on the same corner of the street and beg for money. Since I was a kid at the time the money seemed to gain a bit more. We would always dream about saving up and moving to an apartment together with mice warm beds, huge closets over filled with clothes and shoes, and a kitchen where we could make the most magnificent meals. But then again my imagination was much bigger back then.
When I had turned 11, Hazey had become sick. And because we didn't have the money, I had to go out and do what I could to help her, even if that meant doing the wrong things. Stealing was the best option I could think of. I had become skilled in pickpocketing and I stole from stores. Hazey need the medicine to help her stomach and her coughing that was getting out of control. I knew it wasn't the right choice but it was to help my family. The only person I loved.
Months later my stealing didn't pay off... Hazey died and my life was ruined. The person who loved me, and who I loved back, was gone. I would always blame myself everyday for it. Telling myself that I could have done better, that I could have fucking done something right for once in my life.
The days went on and again I was alone. No friends no family. I quit eating and told myself that I deserved it for letting Hazey go. I had begun to travel from city to city, never staying long enough to meet people and have a connection like Hazey and I did.
Eventually I had gotten a somewhat decent job. Worked as a waitress down at a restaurant in a small town in Indiana. The tips were great and I was hitting it off well. I saved up while still begging on the side of the street, until I had enough money for a broke down piece of shit apartment. But hey, who could complain. I had a roof over my head and somewhat food on the table.
So here we are, living in an apartment in Indiana. Not exactly the dream life Hazey and I had but it'll do. There's nothing to do, no friends, no movies to go see. And for a 16 year old that sucks. But I'm not your average normal 16 year old. I would rather stay at home away from people. I'm not gonna commit myself to someone when I know they're gonna leave, disappear forever. So why risk it? Why give up everything for someone you love when it will come crashing down? I know it will, it always has. I'll never open up ever again. Never in a million years. There's no point...