Tuning Heartstrings

Chapter 4

(Written July 30, 2014)

The paramedics came and rushed me to the hospital after I fainted. Once awake, I refused to speak for weeks. I was a mere child engulfed in the grief of a loved one's passing. Connor's death hit my parents equally hard.

My mom, who was always dancing and humming the latest pop song, never played a tune in our house again. My dad, who once never got tired of smiling, stopped smiling after his son's death.

When we returned home from the hospital, I despised every room of the house. Every wall, every corner, reminded me of memories created with my brother. The house didn't feel like a home without Connor; it was merely four walls and a roof haunted by the memories of a kid who passed too soon.

To drown out the pain, both my parents turned to alcohol and pills. They forgot they had another child. With time, I grew older but also grew further from them. The same parents I followed everywhere as a toddler were the ones I was terrified of going near in my early teens. Now, even at the age of 19, I always stayed in my bedroom when they were home.

My thoughts return to the living room, and a realization hits me. I've felt alone for most of my life, but now, I truly am an orphan.

If I had done things differently, maybe they would both be alive. After a moment of contemplation, I realize what I need to do now. I get up and walk into my bedroom. I look around the bedroom I have spent almost my entire life in. I open my closet, take out my old backpack, and place it on my bed.

In the front pocket, I place the photos of Connor, my parents, and me, including the one I found earlier on the living room floor. I open another pocket and place all my toiletries. In the largest pocket, I fold and fit 2 pairs of jeans, a couple of shirts, two sweaters, sweatpants, and undergarments.

I open a cupboard drawer and take out the money I have saved up and place it in my backpack, hoping it'll be enough to survive a few weeks. As I'm zipping the backpack up, I remember my mother telling me I could take money from Connor's closet if needed, since I'd be the only person he'd actually have given his savings to. Until today, I have never considered touching the money, but now, I walk into his room, open a drawer, lift up a photo of me, and take a black wallet filled with cash.

I walk back into my room, change out of my pajamas and into a blue tee, khaki shorts, and blue sneakers. I then wrap a blue and grey flannel around my waist and put on my backpack. It's funny how someone's whole world can fit into a mere backpack. With that, I leave for the living room.