Dark Angel // Alex Gaskarth

Chapter Twenty Nine: Lithium

Angel~

My fingers gripped on the edge of the sink, a nauseas feeling returning in my stomach. The lump in my throat grew, tears slowly rolling down my cheeks. I slowly closed my eyes, sucking in a breath of air.

The sound of knocking came from the bathroom door, but I payed no attention. "Angel." Alex's muffled voice echoed around me. I sighed loudly, my eyes fluttered open as I returned my gaze to the reflection before me.

The girl staring back at me looked unrecognaizable. Her hair was a tangled mess of knots twisting her dirty brown locks. Her eyes were no longer chocolate brown. They had dilated and turned into a dull, almost black, colour. Her skin was ghostly pale, her cheekbones popping out in an unflattering manner. That girl was me. It was a mirror to the aftermath of all the fucked up shit that one goes through when losing someone important.

I did wonder how death would feel. I wondered if death would he painless and quick. When I lost Oscar, death was the only thing that haunted my mind. Now, I'm too scared of facing death.

I have thought of suicide. I thought of the bliss I'd feel once I followed in my mother's footsteps and cowered out of continuing on with my life. I know now that my mother took her life because of how things were crumbling so quickly for her. In a year's time, she lost her daughter, lost her job, and was soon to be evicted from her home. The pressure got to her until she could take no more and ended everything.

I want to do the same.

I want to forget the fact that I am an nineteen year old Latina who got married before even enrolling in to college. I want to forget the fact that I have no talent whatsoever. I want to forget the fact that I have a father who shows more affection to neighbors than to his own daughter. I want to forget that my brother was shot in a drive by and my mother committed suicide. I just want to forget.

But I can't.

No matter how much the voice inside my head tells me to, I can't bring myself to down the bottle of pills or even feel the cool medal of the blade pressed against my skin. Just the thought of harming myself brings me sick to my stomach. I know I want out, but I also know that I can't get out. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that there isn't anything to live for, I can't... Because there are things to live for, there are people who I can't lose.

I may not have much left in this world, but I do have four best friends who I know for a fact that I can count on no matter what happens.

Even so, despite knowing this, I can't bring myself to accept their help. I don't need their help, I can manage just fine. I don't need their sympathy, I don't need their money and I definitely don't need them pestering and following me around the house all god damn day.

"They're just worried." My self conscious reminds me. I roll my eyes, annoyed by the quiet voice penetrating my thoughts. I know that they're worried. It's been nearly a month since my mother's suicide, but how can anyone expect me to get over her death so quickly? I don't think I'll ever be able to get over her death. I mean, who can? The woman that brought me into this world, she herself is no longer breathing, and that's something I don't think I'll ever be able to get over.

Frustrated, I grit my teeth together and bit my tongue. "Why?" I shouted, staring up at the ceiling above me. My fingers reached up to my head, tangling and tugging the strands of unwashed hair. "WHY?" I screamed loudly. Before, I thought there was someone responding to my questions and prayers, but now I'm beginning to believe that I'm screaming to nothing but a white ceiling and an empty sky.

The pounding on the door increased, the noise began to frustrate and anger me. I stood up and walked towards the door. Grabbing the handle, I swung the door open. "What?" I snapped, glaring angrily at the tall brunette.