Picking Up The Pieces

Chapter 5

 Reagan's POV~~~~

So I got out of the hospital today.

 The car ride home would've made anyone cry. I was bawling the whole ride home. Not because I didn't miss home, but because it reminded me of when Dad died.

 Endless nights at the hospital, waiting for him to be fixed. To wake up. To smile at me and say the same thing he always had, "Hi, my princess, what's shakin'?" 

  But he didn't. The last night I was supposed to visit, before they took him off of life support, he died. I got hurt the worst, having the bond I did with him.

 Now here I am, fifeen years old and trying. Trying to grasp the happiness that's too far out of reach, yet too close to give up on. I can't give up. I have to do this for Amber, Elijah, Hendrix, and myself. What Hendrix helped me realize was that if I do something bad to myself, if I hurt myself, it hurts them, too.

 But my main problem is this- I'm tired. I'm tired of waking up every day, going to school, faking a smile. Laughing when people ask if I'm anorexic because that's "Oh my gosh, that's SO untrue." I feel like it's "Reagan vs. The World." and it shouldn't be. I'm fifteen, I have the right to be happy.

 Right?

 Honestly, It's terrible. People are fake. The earlier you learn that, the better off you are. And it's not just the obviously fake ones. It's everyone.

 It's me.

 It's me, it's you, it's everyone ever, and that's hard to learn.

But it's the reason I'm gonna be okay.

 I have to be okay.

 Because I can't die, because I don't even want to. And what about my classmates? They don't have any clue how depressed I am.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 "Tate. Tatum. Tatum Alexandra." Ethan poked Tatum's ear, attempting to wake her up. She opened one eye, and mumbled some colorful profanities. 

 Unluckily for her, Amber was sitting right in front of Ethan. She gasped her little gasp and giggled, sprinting away, most likely to tell Baylor.

 I'm finally home, but still recovering. Like, they have to check on me once or twice an hour to make sure I'm not, y'know, dead.

No one does check on me, though, because Hendrix does about a month's worth of checking on me every hour. He'll call me, and this happens.

 "Reagan?" He'll ask, sounding terrified. Naturally, since I love him, I get frantic and start asking what's wrong.

 "What? Hendrix. Oh my gosh, Hendrix, what?" I freak out every time.

 He laughs. "Reagan, I'm sorry for scaring you. You know I'm still worried." 

 "Yeah, I know. I'm fine. I realize I made a mistake."

 "You're amazing. I love you, Reagan. More than anything. If you ever pulled this again..." He got choked up, and that choked me up, so now we're on the phone, sounding like two blubbering idiots.

 This is why I'm so in love with him.

 Hendrix isn't one of those guys who dissmisses crying as weakness. He's not afraid to let me see him cry, because he says that 'our deepest emotions must be felt together, or they are never really felt at all'.

 He's deep, yet honest. He plays Barbie with my little sister. These are the things I love most.

The day after I came home, I slept in til noon before my mom came in, telling me that I had a visitor. So I groaned and went downstairs, and heard a high pitch squeal and a deep, gravelly laugh.

 I peeked in the doorway to see my boyfriend sitting on the ground with a little girl, holding two princess barbies, while she held two prince barbies.

 "Teeheehee, the prince is such a cutie patootie!" Hendrix said in a girly voice, wiggling one barbie so Amber knew it was talking. She giggled and sat in his lap, and cuddled with him. He kissed the top of her head, and cradeled her. That's when I knew that Hendrix is the one.

 I walked over and sat next to him, and got Amber out of his hair, by telling her that  'sissy wants to talk to Henny alone.'

 He picked me up and put me in his lap, cradling me the same way he cradeled Amberlynn just moments before. He kissed my forehead and stroked my hair, playing with it and braiding it in random intervals. I smiled at him, and he leaned forward and kissed my nose.

  "How are you, baby?" He smiled. I laughed a little, and shrugged.

 "I'm fine, Rix." I smiled. He looked concerned. I kissed him on the nose and stood up, running to my room to get dressed.

 "Reagan," Tatum called out, "calm down! Some of us are attempting to sleep at least a little more this morning."

 Baylor was sitting in my room, smiling. "Ahh, young love."

 I laughed and changed, running downstairs as I pulled my shirt over my stomach. Hendix grabbed me, put me on his back, and took me to the car. We sat in his car for a second, doors closed, radio off, just sat there.

 He looked at me.

I looked back at him. He shook his head. 

 "What?" I asked, turning so my body faced his. He sighed.

 "Why did you do it Reagan? I mean, I know how sad you are and all, but why not therapy?" He said this not in an accusatory manner, but one that was genuinely upset.

 "Well I did go to therapy, but my thoughts were dark." I said, hoping he wouldn't ask exactly what he did. 

 "How dark? Like what?" 

 "Well, I wanted to die. I wanted to be with my dad. I didn't feel needed here. I needed to go where all the dead go."

 "Heaven?"

 "Sure, depending on what you believe. I believe that there's an afterlife somewhere, but I'm not sure on Heaven." I said, trying to find his emotion.

 "Oh."

 "Yeah. But I also figured, death is inevitable." 

 "Reagan." 

 "It's true. It is. No one is immortal. There is no everlasting. We live, then we die. That's when the party's over. Death will happen to everyone you see on the streets, at school, at the market, everywhere. We're all slowly dying, but I felt as I needed to speed up the process." I said, cringing at my own words. 

 "If you wanted to speed up the process so bad, why do you cringe when you talk about it?" He asked, again, not accusatory.

 "It's embarrassing." I answered, looking at the carpeted floors of his car, suddenly interested in a mysterious stain on the floor.

 "What is?" He asked me. I sighed. 

 "Hendrix, I tried to kill myself. I failed. Embarrassing."

 "I'm happy you're still here." 

 "Why?" I asked, cringing again.

 "Because, Reagan, I'm in love with you. I really realized that in the car, on my way to the hospital, when I was wondering why traffic was slowing, why I couldn't be with you now, and why it was you and not me. As I sat in the waiting room, crying when they gave me news on your health. I knew I loved you, because I was so mad. I was mad at you for doing this, when I loved you so much. I was mad when I thought I was too late, when I thought you were dying for sure. I knew I loved you. A lot."

 "You know what's inevitable?" I replied.

 "Death?" 

 "No. Us." I said.

 "There already is an 'us', Reagan." He answered.

 "No, the future us. The us getting married, having a family, growing old together. That's inevitable." I smiled at him, because he was about to cry, and he was smiling so big. He shook his head. 

 "God, Reag, you're perfect. I love you." He smiled.

 "Hardly. But I love you too." I answered, and closed my eyes, leaning against the leather seats.