The Unexpected Angel (Sequel to Be My Mistake)

Six feet under

Siana’s P.O.V.

Alana’s screaming practically pierces my eardrums, even though we were on complete opposite sides of the house. I continue to gorge myself on the brownies, ice cream and coffee Hunter provided me. The brownies were regularly burnt; the ice cream was freezer burnt, and the coffee, well. I didn’t even like coffee. Ever since I had gotten pregnant with Alana, the smell of coffee sickened me, but yet I still drank it, as if I thought all of these things combined would numb my pain. I watch reruns of shows I’d never seen before. I was curled up in covers that seemed like I hadn’t left for days. My hair was pulled up into a messy bun upon the top of my head. My pajamas hadn’t left my body, unless I had to wash them. I had no clue who I was turning into, but as each day passed, it seemed like I lost myself a bit more. Alana barely recognized me, Hunter wouldn’t come anywhere near me, and my phone had been dead ever since Caroline’s death, meaning I had talked to no one.

Who was I?

What was I?

Could I even consider myself a human anymore?

I look around the dusty, dark bedroom that was my safety net, and see that everything was a wreck. I thought that the day Maria had come over, and I had had a breakdown moment, that Hunter saved me. I thought he pulled me away from those deep, dark thoughts, but he hadn’t. I fell back into them, and if anything, I had fallen harder.

Laundry was scattered across the room. It all was hanging from the bed posts, laundry baskets and dresser drawers. I realize that Hunter hadn’t done the laundry. He must have gotten tired of playing mommy, and truthfully I didn’t blame him. I was tired of playing mommy. I was tired of playing housewife. I was tired of being at everyone’s beckon call. I was tired of life at this point, but yet I was still stuck here, with no escape.

I stand up from the bed and feel my legs shake beneath me. From always staying curled up, moping and crying in bed, I had lost all muscle strength, I suppose. I walk around the large bedroom, gathering clothes that covered my floor. In a way it felt good to do something worthwhile, yet I still felt like falling into bed and bursting into a fit of tears. Never have my emotions been so out of whack. Not even when I was pregnant.

As stealthily as I possibly could, I make my way downstairs with the basket of laundry propped on my hip. As I walk across the house, coming closer and closer to the laundry room, I see Hunter and Alana fast asleep on the couch. Who really knew what was making her cry earlier, but Hunter had become good at playing mommy in the past five days.

Five days was all it took.

Five days is all it took for my life to blow up. Five days is all it took for me to fall apart, and want to do nothing more than cry. All it took was five days to seem like everything was over. That’s all it took for my family to start falling apart.

I continue to walk across the linoleum floor, trying to shake my head of the absurd thoughts. Well, I hadn’t thought they were absurd. But Hunter would.

After stuffing clothing into the washer and starting it, I planned to go back upstairs and pretend to sleep. That’s what Hunter thought I always did. He thought that I laid upstairs, trying to sleep off my heartache for the past five days, when really all I did was prepare myself emotionally for the funeral. The funeral, which just so happened to be today.