You Make The Pain Fade Away

I stared mournfully outside from my window. The only window of my attic bedroom. Green fields of corn stretched for miles and miles. Neat rows of corn plants that wasn't ready for harvest. I could make out my Grandpa's workers scattered throughout the immense fields. There was a soft knock on the door that vaguely startled me.  

"May I?," Grandma's voice said.  

"Yes," I mumbled, staying firm. I heard her walk in softly. Tears stung my eyes, creating my view blurry.  

"Make yourself comfortable, sweetie. It'll take some time to adapt living here," she said briefly. I squeezed my eyes shut.  

I don't want to LIVE here. Yes, I've stayed here before, but I don't want to permanently stay here. I want to go back to my home in New York City, with my parents having Chinese take-out. Tears streamed down my cheeks , holding back a sob. Still not turning around.  

"I feel the pain too. Just know that your parents are in a better place now. Your Mother would want you to move on. I'll make sure you do," she paused, "Your Father was a strong man. He'll want you to stay strong for him and your Mom."  

I could clearly hear the pain in her voice. Just two weeks ago, I was discussing with my parents about college. My Dad wanted me in Yale, while my Mom wanted me in New York University in Manhattan. Mom and Dad thought highly of me and was very proud of my ACT scores. They wanted the best for me. My life is now completely ruined. My parents are not going to be there when I graduate from high school.  

My Grandma sigh and I heard her walk out of my room. I fell to my knees, the tears running down. I sobbed roughly.  

Nevertheless, I cannot believe my Mom and Dad are dead. The hardest thing for me to take in is that I didn't just loose one, but both at the same time. I felt troubled, wistful, and gloomy.  

I wept, letting the tears pour out.  

Everything had happened so fast. It was the last day of school and I was very happy because I was finally going on my summer vacation. Mom had planned for us to go to the Bahamas for two weeks. I was so excited. Uncle Stewart, my Dad's only sibling, picked me up from school early. I was surprised since he never did that before. Once he delivered the news that my parents had died in a critical car accident, I was shocked. I wouldn't and couldn't believe it. I was devastated.

My Uncle took me home, ordering me to pack all my things. Funeral was planned. Then things just passed by rapidly. After  the funeral and burial, I was set off on the road to live with my Grandparents to live somewhere in Georgia. I wanted to live with my Uncle, but my Uncle is a busy business and it's impossible for him to take care of me. Even when I insisted I could take care of myself and that I didn't need a babysitter. I continuously argued with him that I was seventeen and that I'm old enough to live alone. All I really wanted is to stay in New York.  

I left everyone that I consider a friend behind, which I haven't talked to in a week. I'm not the unsocialized type of person. It's so unlike me, but since I'm depressed, it's weighing me down.  

It took me a while to bring myself together. I glanced around my cozy, small room. It's not a room that contains cobwebs, dust, or junk. It is now my room. I wonder to myself how it could manage to fit everything it has. The atmosphere in the room envelops me as it brought back memories of the past. The curved ceiling, which are the inner part of the houses roof, conducive to it's unique shape and relaxing colors. My bed sits comfortably tucked against the right side of the curved wall, next to me. On the left arched wall, stood a wooden desk with a very old computer on it. An office chair tucked within it. Next to the desk is a tall lamp that by the way, it's the only source of light for the night. A chest of drawers was located adjacent to my bed, counter to the arched wall. A large mirror was drilled above the chest of drawers on the slanted wall.  

I leaned on the window behind me, holding my breath. It was too warm in here. I couldn't help, but to compare and contrast my room back in New York. Nothing has changed in this small room. The last time I had temporarily stayed was when I was eleven. The baby yellow walls around me displayed memories of various moments in my life. This room was my mother's room. I could see why she loved it so much. It feels so cozy. On the opposite side of me, besides the the exit, was a pair of panel doors for the closet. My butt was going numb on the shiny wooden floor. I heard someone coming up to my door. I immediately jumped onto my bed, acting like I was asleep. The door creaked open and I could feel the person's gaze on me.  

"Ashley?," Grandpa said quietly. I didn't respond. He sigh and left. I felt guilty. I wonder what he wanted.

Not opening my eyes again, I slowly drifted to sleep.