Can You Feel That?

If I had figured out a way to make 'The Boy Who Cried Wolf' shut-up, I would. Oddly enough, he was a she, and that she was me. Somehow I can't control myself, and in a society like this, that's deemed as a problem.

I could wake up everyday and tell myself to be happy. It would work as a glistening charm, and I would never display myself sad ever again. The biggest problem to this plan voids everything out, so I'd never be able to achieve this.

I don't want to die. I want to live to tell some sort of third generation how to want to stay alive. I can't seem to find the 'good reason' behind seeing this through.

My councilor has requested on seeing me everyday. My minimum wage and I had a big argument over this, but I ignored all of the negative side affects and blindly caved into the request. Everyday, I tell her about how I'm ready to end it. That's when she drags me off the ledge and I'm back to holding onto the hope of pretending I'm happy.

My biggest problem is wanting to be all right. It's telling her so hopefully I find clarity in my own voice. It's wiping away my tear flooded face and painting on a warriors mask. My biggest problem is that I cry wolf, too much.

So I typed out some digits, and gave life a call.

"Hello?" The other line picked up.

"Hey," I sniffed. "Are you busy?"

"Nah, why? What's up?"

I smiled at the open schedule. "I'm going to shoot myself in three minutes. I'm using my free time on you."

The phone went dead.

My mother had never been one for stressful situations. I would never be the one to judge her for that.

My phone ringing again caught me off guard. I still answered with my free hand. "Mom?"

"Are you high?"

I itched my nose. "No."

"Do you have any on you?"

My hand shook. "A little. Why?"

She scoffed, "last WEEK you told me you'd give me some. You're due for a payment. I was goin' let you off the hook for the last time you ripped me off, this time I expect it all be here and ready in ten minutes. You do what you gotta do."

The phone went dead again, and my back went stiff. I sat up off the floor and opened my eyes. I hadn't known what I expected from calling her, but I know now.

The bedroom I have currently been renting out was packed up. I went to the box labeled 'MOM' and opened it up. Inside there were a few lines worth but not enough. I stuffed it all in my pocket, and crawled out the window, with the gun still in my hand.

I had taken a few Alprazolam before calling, so my legs were like jelly jumping off the roof.

As I headed to the warehouse, I passed a kid sitting on the staircase to his house, smoking a cigarette.

"Those kill," I mumbled, laughing a little. I never seized my walk or initiated eye contact. I think I just wanted a laugh.

"So will that gun in ya hand. Whatchu doin' wit that anyway?"

I turned around while raising the gun, wiggling it a bit. "I'm on my way to the river, about to make a grave for those who deserve it." I mimicked his tone of voice, which was a joke for me. I swooped up my hood and turned into an ally way that leads into the garage of the warehouse. My mom would be there.

"Took you long enough," her voice boomed. "Where's my snow?"

"I don't have a lot, mom."

"It's enough for now. You're gonna owe me later."

"I don't know how I'll give it to you. This'll have to be enough for a while."

"What'd you just say?" She asked while starting to make a line out of the bag.

"I can't keep doing this with you, I'm cutting you off." Although it wasn't a lie, it wasn't my intentions with her.

She sniffed the tail of her cocaine away and looked to me, "what you mean? You can't just CHOOSE when to walk away from this business, it choose for you. Have I raised a fool?"

"You haven't raised anything." It wasn't confidence filling up the air, it was sheer desire to be done.

"Nate!" She yelled. "I'mma need Nate!"

Through the ally, a figure of a man marched my way. As he got closer, he examined me. "You again? You's a ways from the river. I thought you were carvin' graves?"

"Nate, baby, take that gun away from her."

I looked over to my mom, and let my shoulders drag back as I handed the gun to Nate.

Me and her never broke eye contact when she told Nate to point the gun at my toe.

She sat next to me, "baby, do you remember when Grandma Judy gave you one spanking for each year you were, every single birthday?"

"Yes."

She smiled, "well happy early birthday. My babe Nate here is going to shoot you, starting from your foot, all the way up your body, 16 times. Just like Grandma would do it. Won't that feel good? You were sayin' something about you doin' it yourself earlier, what's changing now?"

I had no reasoning capable of coming out of my mouth. My eyes were dry and my body was calm. I twitched.

I looked at my mom and I smiled. "I left something for you at my house. Somehow, I knew this would happen."

"I did too darling," she booped my nose. "Too many late payments, too little salary." She looked over to Nate, as she reached for something in her back pocket. "One," She said, as a tingling feeling expanded from my stomach and through my body. Like roots grabbing onto everything alive.

I looked down to an object that my mom had been holding, sticking out of my stomach. She twisted it around as the word, "two," escaped her tongue in a dizzy manner.

With a thunderous boom, "three." My leg began to go numb.

I've never been one to have a queasy stomach, but this pain could take out Godzilla.

There was rustling to the left of me, Nate took a break to check it out I'd assume, most of it was blurry though, and he wasn't gone for long.

"Four," she ripped out the knife, "five," I felt like my knee cap blow off, "six," there was a bang, but I couldn't feel it. My eyes went up toward the warehouse ceiling.

There was a scream that came not from my lips. I suppose it was my mother saying seven echoing through my ears.

The color drained from my eyes. I was color blind. I was, warm.

My blood could have been a blanket.

I remember hearing a thud. Then I remembered nothing at all.