Cough Syrup

Cough Syrup. 

The label stands out as I open the cupboard and I cant help but reach out and take it. It’s just sitting there, UN opened and waiting, waiting for me. I let my hand clasp the cool bottle and I bring it down and set it on my kitchen bench, just staring at it. 

It’s not a huge bottle, no, just medium sized, enough to last a few good weeks of someone with a god awful cold, but it seems like just enough. I can feel my hands shake as I pull out a spoon and look into the metal dip.

There I am.

Light brown hair, straw colour in my opinion, all tied up into a messy bun I’d done in a hurry earlier this morning, my blue eyes red and puffy.

Clear evidence that I’ve been crying.

I wipe away my remaining tears and grab the bottle, making my way out of the kitchen and up toward the stairs, pausing along the way to look around my house.

The walls were a bright cream, the windows large and blind free, letting the sunlight stream in to light up the room. It still didn’t change the fact that my large house was very empty, even though it was filled with furniture and small knick-knacks; it was still empty to me.

I walked calmly up the stairs, the ever still portraits staring right at me as I went, though I ignored them. I did not need their eyes changing my mind. Not today. Not this time.

My room was the one at the end of the hall. The one with the smiley face on the door handle. I flipped it upside down as I entered, closing the door carefully behind me and I turned to face my room. It was big, far to big in my opinion. The walls were light blue, posters of different bands hanging from them, just a small portion of the things I loved. The other things I loved sat on my bedside table, smiling at me from behind the glass, sunglasses on and hair blowing in the wind.

Ebony, my older sister was in the middle, surrounded by other friends, her smile small and innocent, and sunglasses hiding her lovely green eyes. I loved her eyes. All my life I’d wished for them, and I’d always wished to see the world through her eyes. Was it different to mine? Did she see bright lights and happiness where I saw darkness and heartache? Would she have seen my situation in an optimistic light? Would she have tried to move on? It didn’t really matter much to me know. I’d slowly gone beyond caring to the point where I really could not give a damn.

My Best friend Amanda was to the very left, her smile the biggest of them all, yet, she had so little to smile about. On her head was a bright pink headscarf; hiding the fact she no longer had hair. In the picture, you would never be able to tell that she was slowly dying, being eaten alive by a horrible cancer. She was strong, stronger than me. Maybe that’s what’s keeping her here. Tied to this world, a world full of hate, because that’s honestly all I saw anymore. Amanda was one of the only good things to come out of it, so a world without her… was no world at all.

I smiled weakly as I picked up the photo and carefully slid it out of the frame, laying it down on my bed. I lay the bottle of cough syrup beside it along with the spoon and I moved over to my mirror.

My reflection stared back at me and I felt the smile fade from my lips. The girl staring back did not look happy. She had pale skin and dry hair, her nose to big, lips to small. I did not like this girl, and neither did anyone else.

Look at her hair… could it be any more plain?

Uh, Barbra Streisand much.

Yeh she’s smart, not much in the looks department though…

Her sister is just gorgeous.

Maybe with a bit of makeup…

I could write a book on people’s thoughts about me, and it doesn’t phase me anymore. I took out my earrings and set them on the desk, wiping off the little eye makeup I had on, looking once more in the mirror before I covered it over with a sheet. I tucked in my chair and moved towards my bed, grabbing my iPod and sticking the headphones in my ears, I pressed play.

For some reason, the music seems to calm me, take away all the stress, not that I feel much of that anymore. I sat back against my pillows and picked up the bottle, just looking at it for a moment.

Was this the right thing to do? Could I really be making such a decision?

The answer was yes, yes I could.

Life’s too short to even care at all.

The lyrics blasted through the headphones as I unscrewed the childproof cap and tossed it to the side, taking in a shaky breath before I brought the neck of the bottle to my lips, the fumes of the syrup filling my nostrils. I tilted it slightly and the let the first sweet mouthful sit there for a moment before I swallowed. I coughed slightly and leant back, closing my eyes.

The first thing that came to my head was what my parents would think of this.

Some small part of me thought, yes, they’d be devastated. Yet the majority fought back with one word. Disappointment.

That was the only words my parents seemed to use on me. How disappointed they were that I didn’t get as good grades as my sister did, disappointed that I wasn’t as athletic. They never seemed to notice when I got home late from study group or missed the bus. I’d once spent the whole weekend at Amanda’s house and when I’d got home… they didn’t even notice I was gone.

So somehow I didn’t really care what they thought. I’d stopped caring a long time ago.

I took another large sip and resisted the urge to cough, holding my photo close.

Would I be missed? Yes. Would it be for long? Probably not.

A dark world aches for a splash of the sun oh oh.

I suppose the thing that people didn’t realise was the fact that words hurt. They hurt a whole lot. People may not be forever, but their actions sure are. When that girl in first grade stole my cookies and threw them away for no reason, I remembered. When I was tossed in a garbage bin in the sixth grade, I remembered. When people stare at me and say rude comments, I do not forget, and that what this is all boiled down to. I just can’t do it any more.

I took another long swig and looked at the bottle. It was half empty. I lay back further into my pillows and looked up at my ceiling, the shiny stars I’d stuck there when I was eight still remained, not one of them glowing.

Where do you go after this life? Was it nice? Was it better than here? Anything had to be better than here. I could feel my heart beating slowly as I thought, and it occurred to me for the first time. I wasn’t scared.

Another sip.

Was I going to miss things? Of course I was, but right now, I had a very strong feeling I would never find them. I’m 16 years old and I’ve never had a boyfriend, only ever had one friend who truly cared… and that’s where it ends for me. How could my life possible get any better? People may say I’m being selfish, but I believe I’m truly helping myself.

I took out the spoon and poured the syrup onto it, taking six more spoonful’s before I could clearly see there was one more left. I took a breath and wiped away my tears with a shaky hand.

One more spoon of cough syrup now

I emptied the remains on the spoon and knew it really didn’t make a difference, but I took it anyway, the liquid running down my throat is sweet trickles and I set the spoon and bottle on my bedside table, holding my photo tightly to my chest.

I was done. Finally I was finished. I really hoped people understood but I couldn’t really give a damn. I closed my eyes and settled into the sheets, my heart calm. I could feel the drowsiness coming and I just lay there. Soon the peaceful slumber would come and hopefully I would wake up in a better place. A place where I would be accepted, finally.

One more spoon of cough syrup now…