There were great stretches of silence when I began my final walk around the town I once called home. First, my boyfriend's house. A small, white, government subsidized house. The only place where I felt I wasn't constantly getting attacked or being criticized. A place where I could be the real me.
Mildly unfamiliar with the processes of being a ghost, I slipped through the door. The faint distant banging on a set of drums somewhere up the stairs led me to him.
And there Robbie was. His Beats headset set firmly on his head to avoid them slipping off through his heavy duty head banging routine. The headbangs coincided with the beat he was playing on the drums. His usually short hair grown long without a haircut, the overgrown bangs flopped to the beat as well. The phone rang downstairs. It was my parents I presumed, calling to tell the only boyfriend I had ever had that they approved of I had commited suicide.
There, I said it. I killed myself. I know, I took the wimpy way out. Its not like it was unexpected in my case though. I had tried multiple other times and not succeeded. This time was more lucky I guess.
I heard his mom's footsteps slowly walk up the stairs. She walked into the room without a sound.
Robbie noticed that she had entered the room and he took off his headphones, "What's up?" Robbie's mom made a small sound, and her eyes began to puff, "No. No. No, she didn't. She couldn't have." He slowly lowered his voice to a whisper, "No." I looked at him. Still so stoic. It was just his mom and him. His dad was long gone, and siblings nonexistent. It was just him now, him and his mom. Alone. Kind of like me.
