It started in the morning when I woke up. I was tired, so I was considering not going to school. Debating it in may head, what I might miss, who, looked at the time, sometime after seven, almost seven forty. I could still make it. So, I got up. I got out of bed, and I opened the door, and I shouldn't have.
Strange, I found, that my dog wasn't sleeping by my door, or in the hall. I knew something was wrong just from that one thing, and I feared it. There was an air that something was wrong as well, and, as I walked to go get my clothes from the laundry room, bare feet against the floor, I soon found myself near the entrance to the kitchen, right by the computer area, and my dog underneath on a mat. His tail isn't wagging, maybe he didn't hear me. He didn't. Bend over or kneel down I'm not sure anymore but, either way, a move his tail, I shake him--maybe the other way around it's not clear now... but he doesn't move. Turn on the light as if I'm seeing wrong, than I sit, and I bring him to me on the mat, and it's clear. I start crying. It's like a nightmare. I sit there, and cry, and pinch myself. I can hear the world around me, cars driving by, my brother's music playing in his room, my mom snoring in her sleep. I shake him, and, he's cold. "Wake up. It's the morning wake up. You have to wake up it's the morning, that's what happens wake up." But he doesn't wake up, and he doesn't even look like he's sleeping. Eyes open, mouth in this weird position... I pinch myself because, it's a nightmare isn't it? He's suppose to be awake. He's suppose to be wagging his tail. I pinch myself, I don't know how many times. I cry. I'm awake, it's not a nightmare, but God does it feel like one. I comfort myself in my mind, try to because I still cry, and I can't move. I can't. I can't get up to turn off the light. He can't be alone. I don't know how long I sit there before my mom wakes up and she goes to my room thinking I'm asleep, but I'm not. I'm up, and I'm crying, and, and I say one thing. "Junior's not waking up." and, still a bit tired herself, me not speaking clearly, I think I repeat myself. For the first time I've moved, turned a little so my mom could hear me. I tell her I'm not going to school after she asks. She tells me to get up, turn off the light, and we go to her bed. Lie there for a little while, her touch not as comforting as I hoped, I consider going to the couch and curling up there. An image of the tenth Doctor, like an imaginary friend, stands at my eye level, comforting me, and I ask for him to hold my hand. He does. He's comforting me. I cry and my mom pats my shoulder and coos, trying to calm me. I calm, I don't want to cry in front of her, I don't want her to hear me in so much pain. I sob a little, whimper, he should be... I can't help but cry. Then my dad calls and, and I can't hear him saying I should go to school, cause I'm not going to. I can't hear her say... what happened... so casually. He's loved, it's not just a casual thing. People and animals die everyday, but that does not make it hurt less, does not make it casual. She does, and that's it. I get up, mom asks me where I'm going, the couch I tell her. I go to the couch, and I curl up there, against some blankets, maybe a sheet or two, I don't know, and a pillow. I cry, and my mom asks me why I went. I don't answer. Tells me to go back, don't move. She doesn't either. I'm better at comforting myself than getting comfort. I don't want to face anything, don't want to look at anything, but my eyes stay open. I don't want to move, but I do if I have to. I try to see the time on the clock on our box for the TV, 8: something. My dad calls again at some point, and I cover my ears, I don't want to hear him saying I should go to school. I uncover my ears slowly after a bit, to see if my mom's still on the phone, and uncover them entirely when I know that she's not. I think I do that one more time. At some point, 8:40 I think, I get up and go to my room. My brother's still sleeping. He's going to be heartbroken. I curl up on my bed, door closed and locked. He was so cold. I get under the blanket and completely cover myself, an image of the tenth Doctor, as though he's beside me like an imaginary friend, comforting me again. I cry, maybe sob, and he makes me look at him. He tries to comfort me, and I appreciate it. He understands why I can't stop, why I'm being irrational. I pinch myself and he coos and tells me to stop. I sob, cry, move. He tries comforting me, understanding if he doesn't fully succeed. Time passes and I'm still on my bed, it's hot I think, I'm crying. I hear someone go to the bathroom and hope it's not my brother. It's not, just my grandma. I cry, sob, The Doctor continues attempts at comfort. I appreciate it. I do. At some point I'm almost entirely under the blanket, trying to get myself warm cause... cause he was so cold. Gone. Not there. I knew it when I saw him. I felt him gone before I touched him. So I try to get myself warm, and I start to get sleepy because it's so warm. I don't know when The Doctor wasn't by my side anymore. I try to stay awake, but at some point, sometime in the ten o'clock hour, I fall asleep. I have a dream that, that he wasn't gone. It was a misunderstanding, he just had a tad of trouble breathing. I'm relieved. This is a short dream before I wake up and return to my nightmare, sometime after two and before three in the afternoon. My mom comforts me, that she stayed with him, comforted him. We're hugging as she says this, that Saint Francis is taking care of him, with our two other dogs too. The hug's not as comforting as I hoped. I'm just... sort of... numb. My brother wakes up, she tells him, I walk past him and go to my room, I can't see or hear is reaction, I just can't. I close the door and lock it, and curl up on my bed once more. I don't want to do anything. I don't want to be awake. I feel like vomiting. Movement is... wrong. I can't do anything. I don't want to. I listen to the sounds around me and, after sometime, start playing music. See You Soon by Coldplay. I'd rather not hear anything but, if it blocks out other sound, okay then. Time passes, I continue to cry, maybe even sob. I think The Doctor returns to comfort me, then disappears again. I hope for him to come save me, repeatedly turn on and off my sonic screwdriver torch, I want to be away from here. I can't be here. I keep hoping and crying, I tell him my address, including what planet and year and the milky way. I need him to save me. I pray to God to take care of Junior. He has to, I say, I don't care what other people say dogs go to heaven too and you have to, please take care of him. he's with you now. I start doing normal things again, use my phone, eat a bowl of cereal--but I'm not hungry and I feel like vomiting. Cry??? A some point I get on the computer, but I'm still so numb I cna't talk to my online friends just yet. I don't want to make them sad. I don't walk to talk verbally to anyone, but do in short sentences if I have to. At about 8 or 7:30 my friend calls me, asks me where I was home, I answer, Why? Junior didn't wake up this morning, and I repeat. Oh. She says. I succeed in not crying. She catches me up on what I missed, and who missed me, tells me some other stuff, tells me something she did, I tell her about the bruises on my arm from pinching myself, tell her not to pinch herself if she's upset or something. She talks some more and I give small, short responses. This lasts for about an hour and a half. Then I go back to the computer, start homework, work on my story, listen to Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran, start typing this sometime after nine, get the song on my phone. Right something about this day in a journal I have for one class.
I woke up to find myself living a nightmare I could not escape, and I don't think I'll be out of it for a little while. I don't type the date of this as I usually do because, heh, I don't care for today's date, and I won't forget it. Ever. And, once again, like the other two times a beloved pet--family member that just happens to not be human--went to sleep and never woke up,was a Monday. I checked. So, I guess, at this point, third time. I'm not really a fan of anymore.
