Deep In Thoughts

Chapter 2- The clock stopped clicking

When I arrive home, there's a box waiting on the door step. I pick up the box and bring it inside. It was just a little bit heavier than I anticipated.

"Mom! We got a box and I don't know who it's from!" "Okay honey, I'll be down in just a second, I think I have an idea." Her voice almost seemed upset.

Something wasn't right here.

I just wish I knew what it was. I wish I knew everything that was happening so I wouldn't have constant anxiety running through my mind. I was getting anxious so I started to look at the box. It was dented on the edges, as if someone was careless with it. I began to shake it lightly, it almost seemed as if there were several objects rolling around inside.

I heard faint steps coming from upstairs, as if my mothers feet were dragging. She made her way down the stairs slowly, it was almost depressing. As she got closer I noticed her usual dry eyes weren't dry anymore.

Mom handed me the box cutter to open the box. I was expecting her to open the box, but she wanted me to do it myself.

"Mom, what's wrong?" I was almost speechless and barely had gotten those three words to come out of my mouth. My mouth was dry and I could almost feel my throat closing in. I was scared, I was curious, I was anxious. The world seemed to be keeping secrets from me at the moment.

I just wish I knew everything that was being kept from me. I soon realized that Mom wasn't going to tell me until I pushed the blade into the top of the box.

So I did.

The first thing I noticed was a blanket. I then reached for the blanket and realized many objects wrapped up into this blanket.

         Mom looked at me and faintly said, "Honey, I need to tell you that your step sister committed suicide this morning."

      All I could do was stand there.

     "Michelle, I'm so sorry." I looked at mom with tear filled eyes. I was in shock. I soon cleared my throat. "These are the items she swore to give to me, aren't they?"

        I ran to my room, for this was all I could do. I jumped on my bed, burying my face in my pillow. Tears began to fall, drowning my pillow.

"WHY?! WHY DID SHE LEAVE ME?"

       If I could right a letter to this pillow, I would tell this pillow that I'm sorry.

        I'm sorry for all of the tears.

      This year had been so hard. Too hard. "What am I supposed to do?" I thought to myself. This doesn't even seem real.

        I walk back downstairs after a few moments and many minutes of tears falling. I walk over to the box sitting on the counter. This box almost looked lonely, as if it was left behind. Almost like a stray puppy, just left behind.

       Puppies usually find new homes though, and maybe I was the new home for these items. Maybe she wanted me to have these because she knew I would take care of these when I was old enough, responsible enough.

       I looked into the box, inside the blanket. Before I even unwrapped it, I could feel the beads of a well made bracelet through the cloth.

       I could precisely remember the story behind this bracelet. The warm summer day that soon turned into a rainy and gloomy day. I was only 6, I really couldn't read, and my jumbled up letters on a string were nothing compared to her bracelet that spelt her name, "Trinity Claire."

Trinity was always such an amazing person, but something took over her body and her mind. Something that ruined her life, her outlook, her feelings. Everyone loved her so much, and she loved everyone. She was such a kind soul.

Depression.

A monster that took everything she loved away from her. Everything she loved to do. She pushed everyone away, she couldn't help it though. It was certainly a battle, and my beautiful step sister eventually gave in.

Maybe if I knew how she felt, I could of helped her more. I would do anything to be able to go back and help her.

I dig deeper into the box and find more items that I remember admiring when I were younger.

The clock.

I just love this clock. I loved sitting in the floor of her room, not being able to read the clock, but knowing someday I would learn. I was going to understand what the difference between the little hand and the big hand was.

"When the little hand reaches the 2, your momma will be here Michelle."

I could just imagine her saying those words to me as a child. She also told me that it's not time that matters, but it's what you do in time that does."

I just wish that her clock would have kept clicking.