Chapter 1: Just the Beginning
Well, here I am. Crying in a pool of tears, wishing everything would go away, people, facebook, my phone, my old friends, my new friends, my family...the air. I just can’t think of a reason to keep going anymore. Half of my family of four has evaporated before my eyes and my brother is no help. He doesn’t know what is going on and if he did he would just make things worse. My friends try to help because they know what’s going on but even if they did want to help they still couldn’t get out of the way of their gigantic egos to help me. I love them, I really do. I mean, they were the first people to open up to me when I moved here. But, they’re the most popular people in the school. They wouldn’t want to help someone who’s a hasbeen if it would ruin their placing in the popular ranks. I mean, I don’t blame them. I’m stupid. Ugly. Worthless. Fat. Meaningless. The main problem here is, I actually believe them. Those people ruining my life and calling me names. I believe them. I am what they call me. I’m a monster to society. Actually, they’re a monster to society. But I go along with it, so I’m just as much the monster. People think that I’m just this shell, a little tiny thing that even when people call it names and say whatever they want to it, it still stays a shell. But the truth is, I’m cracking. No one knows, but I’m cracking, I’m almost entirely split and I’m ready to explode. I can’t keep doing this. Keeping all my emotions inside at school and crying them out in my bedroom at three in the morning every day. But, It’ll just get worse if they know that it’s bugging me. I can’t keep firing back word after word because it just builds them up. Many people think their life sucks because their mom bought them shoes that don’t fit, or are too ugly, or aren’t in style. Heck, some people won’t eat the food in their house because they think it tastes gross. I know not everyone is like that, that’s why I’m saying some people. But the thing is, you may think your life sucks, when in reality, it is so much better than half the people that are alive today. Possibly starving, homeless, cutting themselves, committing suicide as we speak. For instance, my life, probably ten billion times worse than yours. Let me give you a list. Put down a check mark if that scenario applies to you.
Is your mom dead?
Is your dad an alcoholic?
Are you verbally bullied everyday?
Are you physically bullied everyday?
Are you cyber bullied everyday?
If you put a check next to one of those things, I am so sorry. And I just want you to know, I feel for you. I know how things are. I don’t know how you feel personally, because everyone is different, but I do know how things are, because all of those things on that list, I would have had to check off. I know it sounds crazy, but my dad is an alcoholic, my mom is dead, and I’m bullied in multiple different ways everyday. That’s why I’m writing this. I’m writing this to tell you to tell someone, to stay positive, and tell someone, your parents, your aunt, your uncle, your friends, anyone who will listen and help the problem. The reason why, is because I didn’t do that, and that’s why I’m where I am today. So, now I’m telling you those things, because I didn’t do that, and now, I’m saying goodbye. Because, I can’t live like this any longer, I can’t live any longer…
*********************FIVE MONTHS EARLIER******************
“Dad!” I called.
“Taylor?” I heard him choke from the kitchen.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s your...it’s your mother. She’s in the hospital, she doesn’t have long, we have to go now.” he tells me rushing around the kitchen and grabbing his jacket and keys.
“Dad...what happened?” I ask confused and worried.
“Come on, we have to go get MAtt.” He tells me shaking his head, tears in his eyes, walking out the door.
I follow him trying to keep the fear out of my eyes.
What was wrong?
My dad drives frantically, rushing from road to road, ignoring stop signs. We arrive at the high school football field. My brother’s team is out there practicing.
He gets out of the car and jogs to the field. He runs over to the coach. A few seconds later Matt comes up to him asking what’s wrong. My dad just keeps talking to him and a few minutes later they’re both jogging back to the car. MAtt and my dad climb back in and my dad steps on it. He goes as fast as possible and we arrive at the hospital in less than ten minutes.
We rush down the halls and finally stop at the receptionist’s desk.
“Mary Reller.” He tells her.
“She’s in room 6b, critical care. May I ask who you are?” The lady tells us.
I swallow down a tear at the words “critical care.”
“Family.” He tells her and starts towards the elevator. We make it up to critical care in a matter of seconds and when we get in the room I literally burst into tears.
My mother is laying in what looks to be her death bed. Her face is black and blue, her neck is in a cast, her leg is in a sling, and both of her arms are in casts. She looks to be asleep.
“Mr. Reller?” The doctor in the room asks.
“Yes, that’s me.” He tells him, not making eye contact, strictly looking at Mom.
“She doesn’t have long. She’s in a coma and probably will pass away any second now. She’s in very critical condition.” He tells us.
I put my hand over my mouth and sob silently at the sight of her.
“what-what happened to her?” asked Matt.
“She was in a very horrible car accident. The person hit her car, and it caused her to smash into the person behind her, so her car was getting too. Drunk driving incident.” He explains.
The slow beep of the heart rate monitor is killing me inside out.
“I’ll leave you all to yourselves.” He tells us and leaves the room.
All of us our basically in tears now.
“This can’t be happening.” I say my hand still covering my mouth.
We stay silent for a few minutes and then the heart rate monitor goes flat. I sob louder than before as doctors rush in and do everything they can. I run outside and slowly sit down. I put my head in my hands and just sob. There’s nothing I can do anymore. She’s gone.
Hey guys! Well, I hoped that you liked the beginning part of the story and I just wanted you to know that, this is NOT based on my life!!! Okay? None of this actually happened to me, but I'm just writing this for the sake of writing things. But, if one of you readers is going through tough times, please instagram or email me at the following adresses because I will do whatever I can to help you, or even cheer you up. If you just want advice, or to let it all out, I can help you. So, here you go. (I promise I will NEVER give any of the things you tell me out to anyone. It can be our little secret:))
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Email: dancechik425@gmail.com
