Where Are My Words?

identity

His lips quiver and his breathing rattles.
His heartbeat is the only noise he can hear over the thoughts of his mind.
He doesn't have a name, for he had forgotten who he was months ago.
After they left, he had lived a nightmare.
The dream he had once belonged in had vanished with them,
and all he could see was the messages.
The fight.
The group.
All of them against him.
He had lied and there was no way they were coming back.
His friends were gone.
They didn't need him.

He sat in the darkest corner of his room and wondered if his existence even mattered.
"No one cares anymore," he convinced himself.
He stood and slowly made his way to his bathroom;
locking the door, although he knew he was alone.
He stared into his eyes through the mirror,
wondering what he could've done to make it better.
His deep brown eyes glazed over as tears stained his cheeks.
The streams trailing each tear burned his skin,
the color draining from his face as he ran his hands through his hair.

Rage pumped through his veins.
His trembling hand gripped the mirror and he tugged on it to reveal the bottles and bottles of pills in the medicine cabinet.
His eyes gazed upon the orange, plastic bottles filled with dozens of little killers.
The thought of what each one could do replayed in his mind.

Who would find his body?
Who would find this young man's lifeless body on the bathroom floor?

It could be his little sister when she got home from school;
the sound of her little stamping feet running down the drive and the door slamming.
Her squeaky voice calling her brother's name as she trips up the stairs only to not find her brother in his bedroom.
He shut his eyes tight and swept her precious face out of his head.

It could be his best friend who was supposed to come over in a few hours.
The best friend that wasn't involved in the fight.
She still trusted him, always would, she promised.
She could find him.
The jingling sound of the keys on her lanyard as she made her way up the stairs to his room,
hearing that sound stop when she approached his doorframe.
He could visualize her chubby, pale face turning to the bathroom door;
walking to it and calling his name.
He could hear the loud thudding of her fist against the wood of the door as she screamed and screamed,
knowing he was gone.

His parents could find him.
They would be off work in several hours.
All the missed calls on his cell phone from where they tried to check up on him.
They knew everything going on in his life.
He could see them in the back of his head.
His mother with her hand clamped over her mouth as she sobbed.
His father bending down over his body with tears just to check for a pulse.
That would be devastating.

He decides he couldn't die.
He couldn't leave those beautiful people behind.
All of those faces he loved.
He closes the medicine cabinet and glances at the guy in the mirror.
He smiles and unlocks the bathroom door,
walking downstairs so he could happily greet everyone when they arrived.
A thought suddenly struck him.

He remembered his name..