And Then There Was Nothing. {discontinued}

7% (close your eyes)

Four and a half years ago, I sat in the tree my mom fell out of. Well, she didn't fall. She jumped.

Arguably, it was a very important tree. When my parents first became a couple, they carved their initials in it with a plus sign and a heart around it. It was very tall, and the branches were thick and easy to climb, so she must've gotten up their easily. Well, as easily as she could with bruises. That one night when I sat on the bench in front of the woods, Mom said she was going back there to pick berries. I was kind of confused. The woods didn't have any edible berries in it.

I should have noticed she lied. I should've realized that she wasn't picking berries. Her marriage with my father went downhill after he started hitting her and me. She wouldn't go there to just "pick berries." It all seemed like some kind of ironic metaphor; when she jumped, she went downhill, just as her marriage did. It seems kind of funny to me now.

She went to the hospital after, my dad faked being concerned. The doctors couldn't see through his disguise, but I could. They thought it was rather odd of how many bruises she had, considering how the landed on her leg when she fell. I wanted to tell them my dad had been responsible for most of them, but I couldn't. His eyes shot daggers, silencing me. I should've told them. Not that it matters now, anyways.

That's what happened to my mom. Get it now? She jumped. On purpose. That's what happened.

Considering the fact that I sat up in the tree for two hours, I had plenty of time to think about what made me feel horribly guilty, what had been eating me up inside, and what is still eating me up inside: Ali.

The greatest friend I ever had was dead because I couldn't hold her. I should've held onto her hand. How could I let her go so easily? She had done so many things for me. She stayed when no one else did. She was one of the few people who cared about me. After what happened at school, she was all I had.

Rumor had gotten out around school that my mom was on drugs. She was, but I'd never say that aloud. Everyone laughed at me. They said things like how I was on drugs, too. They made fun of me constantly. And eventually, no one even liked me. They thought I was messed up, and would 'infect' the other students with disease. The few amount of friends I had left me. After a while, the bullying got worse. People started to shove me and punch and kick me, whereas they used to not even go near me. They knocked my books down, closed doors on me, and constantly made jokes. When they'd beat me up, they said that they were helping me by beating the 'drugs' out of me. The teachers did nothing. No one even knew that my mom was actually on drugs. They didn't know about my abusive dad. They didn't know about my corrupted family. They had no clue that when they gave me bruises and scrapes, I'd come home to more bruises. They wouldn't even care. No one looked at me with pity. They only looked at me with disgust.

Everyone hated me.

Except Ali.

She was the girl in my friend group that didn't talk much, but when she did, she had tons to say. Her brown hair and brown eyes and lovely freckles were adorable. She was so exuberant; she was like a fire that wouldn't go out. She was so lively and beautiful.

After everyone left, she stayed.

She asked me if I was okay. I wasn't. She made me okay.

We would do everything together. Go to the park, the mall, walk to classes, and sit with each other at lunch. Whenever we needed something, the other was always there. We were best friends. At some point, people started to make fun of her too. It made me so mad. But she blew it off, didn't even care. I was for sure she'd leave me, but she didn't. I knew all of her secrets. She knew all of mine. She knew about my family, my mom, my dad, everything. I loved her. More than just a friend.