Not Important

Skipping and dressing up

I didn't go to school today. I stayed home, in the same position I was in all last night. I stayed there until I felt too hungry to just sit around. I went downstairs to get some food, only had the stomach to eat half of it, because all I could see was blood. The blood of those innocent people, all over my hands. And I got away with it. They weren't avenged, their families' had a memorial service that was told about in the newspaper, telling me about all of their loved ones. One of them had two children, another had siblings, nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles. And I ripped those innocent people right out from the comforts of their lives, right out from what might have been a wondrous life that might finally be turning around to the way they want it, and I killed them.

I hadn't realised that dad had gone back out, until I sat on the uncomfortable settee and scrunched myself up into a ball, waiting for this to all be over.

.......

I started to hear knocking on my door, but I couldn't be bothered answering. Anyway, no one should be coming today, at least, no one who was out to push me out of my house. I left the person banging incessantly at my door, hardly hearing it over the screaming in my head. I reach down to the floor beside the settee I am lying on, and I pick up the small, plastic box, taking two pills out of it, and popping them into my mouth. I swallowed them, dry.

The person at the door kicked the door open, rushing in. I didn't care. They could take what they wanted, rob me of everything I owned, which was not a lot. I couldn't care less of what happened to me. I could be murdered right here, and I wouldn't regret doing nothing to stop them. I deserve death. In fact, I deserve worse. It was my fault, and mine alone. I killed all of those people out of cold blood, only doing it to satisfy my greed.

Yes, it might have been at a time where I was desperate and would do anything for money, anything. But, that doesn't justify what I did. It is all my fault.

I am shaken by the shoulders by the person who broke down my door. But, I can't really tell who it is from the blurry dots in front of me. I didn't overdose on tablets, I don't think. I just haven't slept, peacefully, in a long time. I am slapped across the face, hard, three times. The blurry dots seem to vanish and I can see Kerry standing right in front of me.

"Are you okay?", she asks me.

Yes, because that is what you ask someone after you slap them across the face three times. Because that is a question that needs an answer, when you just slapped me!

I don't answer her. I can't do anything. I have failed everyone. I failed my mum as a daughter. I failed Jay as a sister. I failed my dad as a daughter, failing at trying to keep us alive and healthy. I failed those people whose lives depended on me not pulling that trigger, not killing them.

I failed myself.

.......

I find myself sat on my settee still, but with a fresh bowl of soup in my hands, and a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

"I thought you had hurt yourself! You could have at least called me, or answered my calls! I think I called you like fifteen times!", Kerry goes on, and her words blur together, forming only a long, strange sound. Once Kerry finishes her rant, she starts asking me worse questions.

"Why didn't you come to school today?", Kerry asks me.

"It was all my fault", I mumble.

"Huh? What was your fault?", Kerry asks me, not knowing what I am on about. But, I'm not talking to her. I'm talking to myself.

"Devon, what happened to you last night? You were doing okay yesterday when you were at James'", Kerry says, trying to help me.

"Trey was right", I mumble to myself, feeling like the biggest fool for being that blind, and for Trey knowing everything before I did. You can't run from the past.