Mockingbird

I always knew my death would be a sloppy one. I was always in the home videos, prancing around in my ballerina getup, always hanging in the spotlight. I was always destined to go out with a bang. It is weird, how my only surviving relative who will still talk to me can't see me slipping, can't see my fall into darkness. she hasn't marked my days spent in my new room or nights that I drowned in stolen alchohol, screaming at the walls, as a cry for help. She still thinks I'm worked up over the move here. To this small little town with my aunt and sometimes MIA, binge drinking, aggressive uncle. That was just the icing on the cake. The real show stopper happened three weeks ago. My father shot himself in his bathroom. I saw it all, and this God for saken small town just won't let forget it. "You look just like him darling. You have his eyes and unruly black hair." Did they think I didn't know that? I haven't looked at a mirror in weeks. My young, 16 year old reflection reminds me too much of him. Long, thick, raven dark hair. His. Crystal, pale blue eyes. His. They know it, I can see it in their eyes when I catch them staring, they think they miss him, but they don't, I do. I can hear them. They know it all, and sometimes it seems they know more than me. Finally something has happened that will entertain their pea sized thoughts. I am the fascinating new broken thing. These people here are so full of plastic smiles and sympathetic words that sting my fresh wounds.

My bare toes scrunch in the gritty, pebbly, river bank sand. I nervously rub at the goose bumps sprouting on my pale arms. A light, chilly breeze tugs at my straight hair, moving it around me like a dark cloud. The river flows a couple of yards in front of me and I squint my eyes and the churning black water, contemplating death. I never did learn how to swim, but that will make it easier.

"They stole my things and hid them around the school today Dad." I begin, sinking to my knees and muttering to no one. "But I guess that's what happens when you are the new kid, right?" Tears begin to gather in my pearly blue eyes and spill onto my rosy cheeks. "Uncle Tom was drunk when I got home today. He hit me across the face. I ran here to the old foot bridge as soon as I could. Aunty told me that you guys used to play here as kids." I'm a mess now, rambling and climbing to my feet. I make my way into the river, forcing myself deeper into the cold water with every stride. " I just keep thinking!" I scream, chest deep. "That if you were here, none of this would be happening. Things would be okay. And you didn't even leave a note." The current rips my feet out from under me, submerging me and pulling my body down into darkness.No alarming thoughts hit me. The cold has paralyzed my body. Pressure builds in my chest like balloons and I sick in a breath of water, doing nothing to soothe my burning form. The led feeling in my body constricts my torso with an intense pressure, crushing my entire being until I think my world will inplode. Then it all stops, and I am left with a warm feeling of hot pin pricked all over my sailing body. This is it. This is peaceful.