Spark in the darkness (Inspired by Why Don't We)

3. Wrong decisions

The days were passing by in a slow motion, every day was filled with the same hurt and pain that paralyzed me. I was caught inside of my head and body, my mind was absent and my soul was somewhere over the horizon.

My friends stopped talking to me a while ago, because they lost patience with my harmed self, who wasn't able to talk about marks, partys or clothes and music. 

I locked myself inside my body. I was breathing, but with no will to live. Sometimes the oxygen I was breathing seemed to be poisoned by sorrow and anger at the driver.

I almost stopped talking. I didn't speak when it wasn't neccessary. I ate, but with no actual appetite. I knew I had to eat if I wanted to survive, so I did.

The days slowly turned to weeks, but I didn't notice.

My marks were getting rapidly worse and nobody cared about my loss anymore.

About four weeks after Cay's death people stopped talking about it. They stopped lighting up the candles in front of the school building. The lives of others were carrying on as if nothing had happened.

That was the time when I started sinking to myself more than I already did.

I was mad at the whole world for not caring about Cay. He deserved to be remebered forever. But the people were careless. Not even his closest friends talked about him.

I was pretty sure I was about to get into serious depression. There were days when I woke up in the morning with no actual will to live.

I was aware that it was very dangerous, but I couldn't get myself out of it. I couldn't snap out of it. Sometimes I felt like a block of limestone was lying on my shoulders.

I wasn't able to breath.

I looked around myself only to see people talking and having a good time. And I was just lost.

That day when the trial was taking place finally came.

I dressed myself into Caleb's favourite black jeans and to my black lacy blouse. I felt more like myself when I wore his clothes, because it somehow felt like I didn't lose him.

I was walking down the staircase to the kitchen and heard subdued voices of my parents. They sounded worried.

My mum said. "Will, I really think that she's not okay. Did you see her? She looks like a ghost. She dresses to Caleb's old clothes all the time just to feel close to him.

Her grades are terrible, but that's not the worst problem. I think she loses herself. We have to help her!"

I heard my dad sighing. "I know, but what can we possibly do? She doesn't want to go to the psychologist."

My mum sounded tired while answering. "I know, but she has to go there. She's having serious depressions, don't you see? This is not something she'll get over by herself, Emma needs proffesional help." She added. "I'm so worried about her that I can't even sleep at night. When I look at her, I just want to cry of desperation. She looks so broken." She said at the edge of crying.

I didn't want to go to the psychologist. I was sure that I'll be feeling better after the driver gets the punishment he deserves. At least I told myself.

In that moment I walked in. My parents' conversation ended and I felt their gazes being fixed on me.

My mum smiled. "Good morning, Emma." I looked at her and tried to smile back, but failed. "Good morning."

Before we walked through the big door to the court hall, my mum told me. "Emma, this is going to be difficult for all of us, but please, never stop being polite. Even to the driver. Don't accuse him and don't yell at him."