Just To Be With You

           I closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. My favorite book couldn't even take my mind off of everything. My father was gone and I can't change that. About a week ago, he had gotten into one of the worst car accidents. The driver behind him was drunk going over the limit. He hit my dad’s car which caused it to flip over multiple times. I remember the police officer coming to our front door to tell us the devastating news. He explained how this is one of the worst things that could happen to a 15 year old. Which it is, this is the worst thing that I’ve ever encountered. That pounding in my head quickly grew unbearable. That night, I never left my room. My eyes never dried and I could hardly breathe. My mother never checked on me. She didn’t even talk to me, she just left me alone to cry myself to sleep. I neglected the fact that I needed to get help. Obviously my mother ignored it too.

            I hid behind the trimming of my door and peaked out into the living room. My mother looked almost as bad as me. The couch was trashed with empty wine bottles scattered around. The aroma of the wine was sour and made me cringe. The TV made her look like she was glowing as she was passed out with nothing but a thin blanket to cover her. I looked down at my feet to make sure they didn't cause the floor to creak as I tried to walk out of my room. After my first step I began to cry. No. I began to sob. Without thinking about what I was doing, I just kept walking.

           Thoughts like this have been running through my head since the day my dad died. The worst part is that you would think at 15, I would have more of a complex mind.  The thing is, I just can't believe I'm about to go through with it. I guess I just figured someone would help me or at least make me smile, or better yet, something would happen to make me accept it.

          I flicked the light on in the bathroom, locked the door, and looked into the mirror. There were dusty circles under my eyes which made me look dreary, almost horrifying. I can't look like this any longer. My body shook hard as I reached above me. I stood on my toes balancing with my hand on the sink to reach the top bottle. The date on the bottle was about a month overdue. I gripped the bottle and bit my tongue. Half of me was trying to talk myself out of it, but the other half of me was screaming to be put out of misery. Just because of my father I'm doing this. I know it's not the right answer, but for me, there's no other answers. No more happiness. No more dad. No more hope. I push the top down and twist it off. I was only happy when he was around. So why should I stay here while I could be with him? "I love you." I whisper.

          I tilted the bottle and watched as the white capsules pile up on the palm of my hand. I squint my eyes shut and swallow them. I can hear the faint sound of my mother's voice. I slide down the wall kicking the rug out of my way. She keeps calling for me. Each time I don't answer, she tries saying my name louder. Eventually her voice gets muffled. I close my eyes while there's a repeated pounding on the door. Finally, silence. The silence that I thought I was looking for.