Loss

*character's name is Caroline

She took another pill, her third in the space of two hours. Didn't she know that she was killing herself? Well I did. I knew because she was killing me too. With every pill we inched slowly to our doom. It was funny because I couldn't help her, I couldn't stop her and I definitely couldn't save her. Sometimes, I would get angry but then I would remember why she did it. She was slowly losing herself exactly like she lost her. The day after the 'incident', I couldn't bear to think of it any other way; she locked herself in her room, and never came out. I brought her food three times a day: at nine, twelve and seven. Always the same for each meal too, for breakfast it was scrambled eggs with toast and coffee. At lunchtime it was soup with oyster crackers. The last meal of the day which was dinner she had a salad with ranch dressing and some water. That was all, no snack, no juice, no soda; that was all she ever ate. And she always took a pill, at every meal and I knew she took extra when I wasn't watching her. She was killing herself and she didn't give a damn. She seemed fragile as if she couldn't survive for much longer. When a stranger saw her he or she would see a woman with graying hair, tragic lifeless blue eyes and a mouth that would tremble as if she were about to cry. She fooled everyone, but she didn't fool me.

She was fragile yes, but those blue eyes were not. They blazed with a determination that only I could see. She wanted to die. Oh yes, she wanted to die. At first people would not believe me

"Poor dear, she just lost her sister, now she thinks she's going to lose her mother."

"It's so sad, she's frightened. It's normal given the circumstances."

I wanted to scream at them. Couldn't they see? Were they blind? Yes, yes they were and it was costing them her life. But that was all right because I refused. She wanted to die, I needed her to live. She needed someone to love her. Obviously that person wasn't me. I was too mean, too cold, too much for me to love her. But who would? She was still very beautiful but she needed to dress up. She looked miserable and the misery etched onto her features. I knew because I was looking at a mirror and seeing my reflection. I had the same misery on my face and it would not go away soon. So I looked around, I went to the public library and checked out the all-women's book club. The leader of the book club was a woman in her late forties. She had a pretty face with short blonde hair, a quick smile and a ready laugh. After chatting with Linda for a few minutes I decided that this would be a great first step, getting my mother to socialize with people again. I told her about the book club at twelve when I was getting her lunch. She looked unresponsive but I could see those blue eyes burn with curiosity. But how could she go out into the world and be among the living when her own daughter, barely twenty was dead? I always mentioned the book club to her whenever I brought her food, I pushed and I pushed and finally, one spring day she decided to go. She dressed up casually she wore a white blouse with dark pants and sensible heels. She brushed her hair and even wore a little bit of makeup. The blush was hardly noticeable and the mascara was light and clean. She came back and it seemed that she was just a little bit happier. A stranger couldn't really see it, but she was.

I soon found out why she was so happy. She had met someone. His name was Anthony West and he was an architect. He was nice, polite and he had impeccable manners. What was even better was that he was completely infatuated with her. I could tell she was just as infatuated with him. It was an interesting thing to watch because I never saw her happy since the "incident". I thought that Anthony was good for her. It was strange yes but it was what she needed to keep her among the living. Now dear reader, you may ask why I was doing this, letting her find her life again with the help of him. Why would I let a stranger help her? The answer was obvious; I couldn't help her. He was kind to me as well, I didn't know why because I was not good enough for his niceness. I then figured out that Anthony was one of those rare human beings who were just good. He could not see the bad in anyone, but that didn't mean he wasn't careful. He was also very insightful. He had taken over my father's study, not that I cared considering the man had died when I was two, and he would read books with me and he would always make me think beyond the story and what I thought it meant not what others said it meant. Anthony once told me "I know you think you don't deserve it, but you're wrong." I asked him what he meant by 'it' and he simply said "Happiness" that when I learned to love him. Anthony was my father and I loved him. They decided to get married after dating for 6 months. During this time I met my stepbrother.