60 Days of Summer

Prologue

It was dark.

Really dark.

This type of darkness used to scare me. The level of darkness in which it was hard to tell if your eyes were open or not. The type of darkness where you couldn't see you own hands...let alone hear your own thoughts.

The darkness that engulfs you.

Secretly terrifies you.

What's worse is that it does nothing. Absolutely nothing. Yet with this abstract thing standing still, it can break you down, little by little. And torture you bit by bit.

It is said, that no living human being could function without the aid of a companion. That being alone for too long could mess a person up.

However, I liked the company of the dark.

While others found it intimidating, I found it welcoming and similar to my persona, in a way.

It was why I chose to submit to it.

To live, and be eternally surrounded by it.

And how's the way to do it?

The only logical way.

Finally.

It was over.

I was at peace with the dark, and no matter how much they grieve, I will never go back.

I can't anyways.

That was, until I blinding light was shown over my face, causing my supposedly closed eyelids to flutter.

What the actual hell?

"She's awake! Call Portia!"

Portia? As in mom?!

Even though my lips were immobilized, I still groaned once hearing the name of my mother.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

As the nurses walked in with a short, petite frame, while I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

Instead of ranting, she sat on the chair next to my bed and stared me down. It was hard to tell what she was thinking, but I knew that once I was better, she kill me herself.

"This is the seventh time, Ophelia," mumbled, running he hand down her wrinkly face.

Must have gotten them from frowning so much.

"I'm going to have to make a decision. I can't have you running to nearest trees and throwing yourself off, nor can I have you trying to impale  yourself with knives anymore," she sighed, her eyes skimming to the spot where I have a large scar printed from a few months ago.

I tried to say something, but whatever held my mouth shut was making it hard.

"What?" She asked.

I made writing gesture, and she then rummaged through her pocket book,  handing me the back of an envelope, and a Bic Pen.

It was supposed to work, I scribbled in my messed up handwriting. I'm lucky the fall didn't break my writing hand.

"Why are you doing this, Fee? Why won't you just talk to me?"

I stared at her.

I learned to just throw my feelings away. Developing feelings is what slows you down in life. It's why people get pulled down.

Feelings are for the weak.

Yes, I know it's wrong to not love your mother. However, it's best she tries to do the same. She never wanted a suicidal baby, well too bad.

Life is full of shit.

There's nothing to talk about, Mom. Just go back home. You wasted your time, anyways, I jotted.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me. Honey, you never used to be like this. Just please tell me! Please! I can help you, you just have to let me in!" She pleaded.

Go before I call the nurse. The day I'm ready to talk is the day I'm ready to talk.

"But what if you do something stupid like this again, huh?  Still think we could talk?"

She was getting angry, but I understood that.

I quickly buzzed the intercom, and sighed a breath if relief when a young nurse came in.

"Time to go, Mrs. Jenner."

My mother stared at me for what felt like hours. It looked as if she was trying to say something. I looked away, trying finding anything but her interesting. After I heard an audible sigh, followed by a closed door, I returned my haze to the front.

"You know," said the voice if the young nurse.

I brought my vision to her.

"She's only trying to be your mother. You should give her a chance," she whispered. Balanicng on the other leg.

I ignored her comment and turned to my side.

I didn't need anybody.

I have the the darkness.