Your daughter's been dead for six years, and so have you. You are in the hospital, and you have been asleep for six years. Stand up. Look around you. Look into the eyes of each of the seven medical staff, all happily shocked to see you open your eyes. They've been trying for six years to have you open your eyes.
All of these people have given up time in their lives just to see you wake. You should thank them. Thank them for their time. You know you didn't deserve their kindness, isn't that right?
Do you remember your daughter? She misses you. Open your messages. See that one, December 18th? That was he night she died. You never read the message.
"Mom, I love you. I'm sorry it's come to this, but I want you to know that I'm sorry. I'll miss you. I'll be waiting for you." She's still waiting, you know. She's never lied to you. She's always kept her end of the deal up.
Go to sleep. Be with your daughter. She needs you. Just sleep. Lay down, close your eyes. Ignore the doctors who will try to wake you up. They don't understand that you need to sleep to see her again.
You can't wait to see her, can you? She can't wait to see you either. You wish you'd read the message sooner. It has been six years. She's ready. Go to her. Go to sleep. Goodnight, mother.
YOU ARE READING
Awaken
Short StorySuicide from the perspective of a schizophrenic voice in a mother's head.