SOMETHING CALLED FATE

something called fate: chapter eight

It was 1:03 am by the time my head was down on my pillow. The over sized tee shirt I was wearing over my cotton shorts was falling off my shoulder as my hair fell down my side. As my eyes shut, memories replayed over and over and over again.

I remembered the way he held my hand. I remembered the way he looked into my eyes. I remembered the way he walked me back to my front door and kissed me goodnight. I remember every second of it, yet it still feels as though it had never happened.

As my mind was beginning to drown and I was almost completely asleep, I heard my phone buzz on the other side of the room. I stand and walk over to the stool below my mint colored vanity. As I glance down at the screen, I find nothing more than just another text from my father wishing me well.

Now, most people like to assume that because I don't respond to this, I'm an awful person. I don't deserve the life I live, I don't deserve what I have. Little do they know about the way he hit me at the age of three or threatened to kill my mother if I did one thing wrong. That man is a monster. He's a monster to this world.

As I distract myself from the screen, I can't help but take another step towards my closet. I take my hand and run it through the clothing placed ever so delicately over the hanger. My hand glides over every lace sweater, and every cotton dress. I glance over every item in there, and slowly every memory comes back to me. I see the black lace dress I wore the very first time I went out with Connor. Before I knew who he was, of course. I see the peach cotton top I wore on that last day of high school, that day I almost left this world. And just a few feet down, I see the dirty white converse I've worn almost every day since sixteen. With every splatter of paint, there's a new story. With every mark, there's a new memory.

I begin to close the closet door when something catches my eye. The necklace. I pull it off the stand. and hold it up to my neck. My smile reappears as the gold heart slowly shapes itself around me. I remember the day I got this so clearly.

Christmas 2001. I was nothing more than a five year old girl with chapped lips and rosy cheeks. But the day I got that necklace was the day everything changed. I remember wrapping my arms around Aunt Beth with the hugest smile on my face. I wore that thing everywhere. Wherever that necklace was, there lied my confidence. I felt as though that string with the heart at the end of it was my happiness and all I was worth. I felt happy. I felt loved. I felt ever so special with that jewel around my neck until the day Aunt Beth was nothing more than a memory.

That was the day the necklace came off.

That was the day my life was stolen from me.

The memories from that day slowly creep back into my mind. The day we found the note saying she loved us. Just not enough. Saying she thought the world was so beautiful. Just not quite how she wanted it. And that's when my heart sunk and my legs shook and my mind collapsed. Until finally, my feet stepped step after step until I reached the bathroom light.

The tears now fall down my cheek fast. I cannot seem to feel anything but heartbreak and sadness. I grab the blade from the top drawer, and slide my back down the door till I'm sitting on the cold tile. The blade glides right over my wrists, as a string inside of me breaks and I'm once again left untuned.

As three lines of blood now fall down my wrist, I look up to see my eyes bloodshot and my cheeks flushed in the mirror. The person I loved most in this world is the one person who didn't even love me enough to live one more day with me. She left me with nothing but my nine year aged bones and a heart on my neck.

I think what scared me most though wasn't the haunting thought of her leaving and never coming back for me, but the thought of this happening again.

So, with nothing more than fresh cuts on my arms, and my face full of nothing but sadness, I trudge back to my bedroom with the thought still fresh in my mind.

After hearing what I've heard, and seeing what I've seen, I'm no longer afraid of what's happened. I'm afraid that those words and fear that came out of his mouth tonight will soon be just another memory and he, well.

He'll be the next one to leave. And never come back.

So, that was the night I prayed to the stars and the moon and all the love in the world. I prayed that God, Dear God, would save that boy from this mad, hopeless place. I prayed that man in the sky would save that boy with the curly hair and the green eyes from himself. Maybe just maybe, that little something called fate did exist.