The ground was in tremors below me. I awoke to find myself in a bed of rocks and pebbles. I winced as I pushed myself off the ground, sharp little rocks like daggers in my palms. I stood wobbling in a daze and stumbled forward a few steps until I got my balance. The ground vibrated beneath my bare feet. I looked down at my stinging feet and saw the crimson spots of blood from sharp rocks, broken glass and twisted metal on a harsh ground below me. Shadows were growing dark and long around me as night fell in a matter of seconds. There was no time for me to know where I was.
Flash of light. Bright. It beat into my retinas and blinded me. I stood there bathed in it, still and entranced like a deer frozen in headlights. It was like bright whiteness flooding over me. Was I dead? Was this the gateway to heaven? I stepped forward and inched closer to the light and then I realized it was coming fast towards me. The ground was shaking beneath me, tremors growing into earthquakes. Light washing over me as the ground broke beneath me. And suddenly I realized what it was. Train. Fear. Panic. Smash. Darkness. Silence. Peace.
Water splished against me. I was submerged in it, sinking fast into the darkness, the blood from the accident washing away as I sank deeper and deeper. The red water floated higher as I dove into the dark blue depths. My heart slowing. My breaths gone, there was no need for them anymore. Everything was slow and blurry. Calm. It was a calm death as the sea washed me away. I watched the light from above the water as it got smaller and smaller, farther and farther away. Muddy blue peace. Silence. Calm. Calm death.
I awoke with a heavy feeling over my head. I let my eyes open slowly to find the darkness of the world surrounding my room, no moonlight to come through my curtains. Just dark. I looked at the clock, red numbers glowing at me, 4:52. I sighed, letting breath heave out of my lungs into the crisp cool air of my bedroom. I could see my breath— little puff of mist in the darkness lit up only by the light in the hallway coming through the slit of the door. It was then I realized something was wrong. I got out of bed and went into the hallway to find Mom digging through the linen closet. She shivered in her white cotton nightgown, dots of eyelet with pink flesh showing through.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
“Furnace isn’t working.” She grabbed a couple blankets from the closet and passed them to me. “Your dad is trying to fix it. Don’t worry. Just go back to bed and bundle up with these.” She strained her face into a smile.
“Okay.” I said, taking the blankets.
I went back into my room and shut the door, the darkness sinking around me. I could feel a cold breeze wrap around me. I was chilled as the goose bumps stood my hairs up. The curtains were blowing out by the window as gusts came in. I rushed to the window to shut it and realized it was already shut. I stepped backwards slowly, my heart racing, and as I reached my bed, I saw her in the vanity mirror. A ghost. My sister’s ghost. Her silhouette was standing there staring at me. I froze, my breath rising out of me in misty puffs. My chest ached and I felt her touching me like a cold wind wrapping around me. Suddenly I could hear her inside of my head.
“It’s your fault.”
“What?” I whispered in a cry.
“Death becomes you.”
“Janey?”
“You make death.”
“Stop it!” I said in a hushed cry.
“I’m dead because of you. Now death becomes you. Be still while we take you.”
“We?” My body tremored.
Light flooded in the room suddenly and I screamed, “Don’t take me! I’m sorry!”
“Annalyn?” Mom’s eyes were wide and her expression frozen on her face until she spoke. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Mom!” I ran and hugged her tightly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for her to die. I didn’t know she’d die because of me.”
I sobbed into the white cotton eyelet of her nightgown. Tears soaked into the fabric as my wails were muffled by it. I began to collapse to the floor as I felt my mother trying to hold me up. We sunk into the ground together as her hand held my head tightly. I could feel her cries as her body shook with mine.
“Shhh...” she managed to whisper beneath her cries. She stroked my hair with her trembling hands. “We shouldn’t speak of this anymore.” Her voice was broken and meek as it gently whispered into my ear.
“Mommy, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so terrible. It’s all my fault.” I cringed as I latched onto her, my body shaking alongside hers.
“Shhh...”
“No!” I startled her and she broke away from our hug, her eyes shocked and confused as she stared at me. “I did something bad and I deserve to be punished.” I sniffled. “Just let me be punished. Just let it come.”
“Let what come?” she said, weak, as she shook her head, slow and rhythmic.
“I don’t know but I will die. I saw Janey’s ghost and she told me so. Let it come, Mom. It’s the only way.”
She broke down and sobbed into her hands. I could see her back rising and falling erratically as she cried, collapsed in her own lap.
“Mom?” I said hesitantly.
“No! Just stop this!” She snapped. “You didn’t see a ghost. Have you been taking your medications?” She looked at me just above a whisper. Her eyes were glassy and dim and her voice was raspy.
“What?” I whimpered.
“I don’t have the energy for this anymore, Annalyn. I can’t take you being ill anymore. If you don’t take your medications, I just don’t know what I will do. I can’t do this anymore.” Tears were streaming down her worn face. She began shaking her head over and over, just rhythmically back and forth as if she were in a trance. Tears kept falling and her eyes were glazed over.
“Mom?” I whimpered.
“What’s going on?” Dad yelled as he stomped up the stairs. “Why is your mother crying, Annalyn?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“What did you do?” I felt his grip tight around my arm as he pulled me up off the carpet and began shaking me. “What did you do to her!” His eyes were red, the skin dark and puffy around them. They tore into me as his stare dug into my soul.
“I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry!” He threw me back to the ground.
“What does it even matter anymore?” he said and stomped off, not even attending to Mom as she sat there heaving cries into her lap.
"I’m sorry, Mommy. I know her death was my fault."
She just kept crying in her lap and I realized that she must have thought the same thing or else she would tell me it wasn’t true. A panic rushed over me, heart aching in my chest. Crushing pain. I tried to breathe but I could only gasp for air as I became smothered. I ran into my room, tears falling down my face. I didn’t know why I was surprised that she blamed me. I blamed myself. But for her to blame me too, I couldn’t take that. My chest hurt, like something was stabbing into my heart. Gasping for air. I felt like I was dying. I fell to the floor and felt the painful jolt of knees hitting the ground.
"Oh my God," I whispered to myself as I sat in the dark.
I broke down and let myself fall to the floor crying, the scratchy carpet on my cheek. Tears leaking to the floor. I was broken.
I woke up the next morning with a tense ache gripping my head. I lifted myself off the ground and grazed my fingers across the carpet indentations speckled on my cheek. I felt a chill as I touched my face. Goose bumps standing up my arm hairs. I shivered. It wasn’t cold. It was a coldness inside me that ate deep into my soul. I felt a violated. I was violated by life, by what life had done to me, by the brokenness inside myself. Life had violated me, betrayed me. I was nothing more than an empty vessel, dead after the loss of my sister and now filled only with turmoil, guilt and mourning. I got up and went downstairs for breakfast. I was a zombie going through the usual motions of my morning.
Cereal. Plain flakes. No sugar. I didn’t deserve sweetness anymore. I poured it into the bowl and felt myself twitching irritably as I listened to the sprinkling
sounds of cornflakes falling to the ceramic. Suddenly I felt this strong urge to just throw the damn bowl to the floor. Watch it smash. Pick up the pieces and just slice myself right up with them. Blood. Blood would be everywhere!
"Morning," Mom said dead-voiced, her face frozen without movement, as she entered the kitchen and went about her choirs.
"Hi Mom," I said politely.
I watched her at the sink, her back turned to me. I just stared at her and wondered what was going on in her mind. I wondered if she hated me. She must despise me now. I was the reason for her beloved daughter’s death. I knew she wanted me dead now. I could feel her anger seeping through the air towards me. I shuddered and felt my skin chill. I narrowed my eyes at her as if they could jab into her. How dare she blame me! How dare she hate me! I could feel a lump growing in my throat. I couldn’t cry, not here, not in front of her. If she saw me cry... if she knew... I was losing coherence in my own mind as I stood there. And then I realized it. I loved her so much that my chest ached when I looked at her. I wanted to hate her for hating me. But when I tried, I just had an unbearable urge to sob. I left the room.
As I passed through the living room I saw the epitome of hatred: my father sitting there in his leather chair reading the newspaper. I felt a freeze as I walked past him, his eyes on me, all over me, violating me with hatred. My heart jumped as I neared him. And then it raced. I could feel my forehead glisten with sweat. I kept walking. I went straight for the front door. As I was about to turn the knob, I felt his presence behind me.
"Where are you going?" he asked in a grim voice.
"Nowhere. I just want some air." My voice was meek and squeaky next to his stern voice.
"Fine." He turned and walked away. But I could still hear him. "You are a horrible person, Annalyn. A failure in life. You ought to die for what you did to my good daughter."
I shook in my spot. Trembled. And then I found myself screaming shrilly at him.
"I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill her! I know you want me dead. The both of you. You’re conspiring against me and I know it."
He turned around with a confused look on his face. "What in God’s name are you talking about?" I could feel his critical voice cutting deep into my soul.
"I know what you are doing. You’re trying to drive me out of this house!"
"Calm down, Annalyn. No one is trying to do anything to you," my father spoke.
"What’s wrong?" Mom asked as she emerged from the dining room with puffy eyes.
"You hate me!" I screamed. "You both hate me!"
"Calm down, sweetheart. No one hates you. Your father and I love you." She said it nonchalant as if it didn’t matter, as if it wasn’t true. Just tell her what she needs to hear to shut her up. That’s what my mother had been thinking. I know it.
"That’s not what he said a minute ago. He told me I was a horrible person and a failure in life." I turned to him. "How dare you say that to me. I might have cowered before, but I’m through with taking this abuse from you."
"What has gotten into you?" he yelled. "I never said anything of the sort."
"Liar! You’re both liars!"
"Please stop this!" Mom cried. "You’re sick. She’s sick again, Neil. Oh, I just can’t take this anymore." Tears streamed down her cringing face. I could see her hands trembling as she wrung them together.
"Look what you are doing to your mother!" I looked at her as my guts churned.
"I’m sorry, Mommy." I cried. "I’m sorry... so sorry... so sorry." I was trembling now, my whole body twitching and shaking.
"Annalyn, maybe you should go take your medication. Take some extra and we’ll call your doctor, okay? I’m starting to think I was wrong before when I told you that you were not ill. The Annalyn I know wouldn’t talk like this. You’re scaring us all!" His spitting tone rang in my ears.
My dad left the room. I stood there shaking and watching my poor mother out of the corner of my eye. She stood there sniffling and wiping her eyes with the crumpled up tissues she got from her pocket. A few minutes later, Dad re-emerged.
He held out his hands. "Take these."
"No!" I cried.
"You need them," he said as he forced my fisted hand open and put the colourful array of pills in my hand.
I threw them in his face. "Leave me alone!"
I ran out the door and into the freedom. I just ran. I ran. I just ran. I ran down the street with the October chill all around me, its wind whistling in my ears. I ran. My heart was racing, my chest aching. The minute I stopped I had to gasp for air and pant hard. Chilled sweat tickled my forehead. I was trembling and cold to the bone. I looked around me not knowing where I was. I just felt like I was swimming in the dizziness of the world around me. Some residential street. Houses I didn’t know. People staring at me from their windows. Suspicious people and I was suspicious of them. Who did they work for? Were they out to get me too? Did they know my psychiatrist? Did they work for the cops that brought me to the hospital that time? Did they know and love my sister? Did they blame me for her death too? Did they want me dead! I had to run. Run more. Keep running. Run away from all of this.
I found myself in the park. I found myself at that bench I had sat on before and watched the dawn come. But there was no dawn this time. No beautiful sun peaking up from the horizon. It was cloudy. It was starting to rain. I felt the misty drops of rain speckle my arms. I looked down at my bare arms and realized I was still in my pajamas. Plain grey T-shirt and green plaid pajama pants. My heart dropped when I realized I wasn’t even wearing shoes but slippers. I felt dizzy and sick. What was I doing? How could I run all that way in slippers? I didn’t know what was going on. I was so confused. I needed help. I needed my mom to love me again, but she didn’t. She hated me. She blamed me for my sister’s death. She wanted me dead.
My heart throbbed and my head pounded. I sank to the wet grass as the rain began to pelt down on me. I shuddered and began to shake wildly both from cold and fear. My hands trembled as I held them up to my face and felt the tears falling amidst the rain that streaked my cheeks. I was going to die. I didn’t know how but I felt like I would die. My stomach sank to the ground and my heart quivered. I suddenly had trouble breathing as I became smothered by some invisible force. I was going to die. And then I could hear someone yelling at me—a loud edgy and strong voice.
"You deserve to die! You killed your sister! You killed and now you must be killed. Kill yourself or they will kill you. They hate you. Hate you. Hate you. Hate—"
"Shut up!" I screamed as I threw my arms up in the air.
"Annalyn?" I felt a touch on my shoulder and I jumped to my feet and flung myself around, ready to fight.
"I’ll kill you if you hurt me!" I screamed.
"Annalyn, stop! It’s me." I blinked and saw Lexie standing there wide-eyed and tense as the rain left her sopping wet.
"Lexie?" I sighed happily. "Oh, Lexie!" I hugged her tightly as I wept into her wet tangled hair. "Please help me."
"I will. Let’s get in my car, okay?"
"How did you know I was here?" I said, relieved as I saw her car in the parking lot.
"Your mother called me. I figured you’d be here. You always come here."
"My mother?"
"Yeah." "But she wants me dead. You have to help me, Lexie. She thinks I killed my sister. I can’t go back to that house. You have to help me!"
"No, sweetie. No one wants you dead. No one thinks you killed Janey. We just want to help you. Come on, I’ll take you home." She put her arm around my shoulder and tried to lead me to her car.
"No!" I pushed her out of my way and jumped several feet ahead of her. "Who are you working for? The doctors? The cops? My parents? It’s all a conspiracy. I’m not going to let you hurt me. I didn’t kill her. You have to believe me. Oh, Lexie, if I don’t have you, I’ve got nothing." I fell to the muddy grass and sobbed into my hands. "I have nothing!" I trembled in my whole body.
"Shhh..." she said as she gently put her hand on me. "You do have me."
"I am so lost. I am so lost without her!" My body shook with cries as the rain drowned me.
"I know, sweetie. I know." She sat down beside me and pulled me into her arms.
"I can’t go back there, Lexie."
"Shhh..."
I felt weak and tired. I couldn’t fight any longer. "I’m sorry. It’s all a mess because of me."
"Shhh..." She held me tight as I cried and my body quivered against her strength. "It will be okay." I looked up into her eyes and saw sincerity that went deep into her soul. I nodded and got up and went home. I never stopped trembling but I was too weak to fight anymore. Too weak, too broken and too lost. The shower ran, water running through pipes and jetting out in a harsh stream, pelting down on tiles, pooling at the drain and sinking down into the dark hole that looked like oblivion. I sat there on the blue fuzzy bathmat beside the shower and just watched it. I was chilled from the rain, goose bumps on pale flesh and hair tangled in a wet mess. I felt cemented to the floor as I sat there. I couldn’t get into the shower. I looked at it with doom and I knew it would just be too much to get in. I couldn’t bare the pelting of water on my skin. I couldn’t bare the feel of warm water and then cold air when it turned off. I couldn’t stand the sound of the shower all around me, water rushing over me, down around me. I didn’t want to be trapped on the other side of that glass door, enclosed in a world of dark blue tiles that stacked high and low and all around. Showering was just too much. Too much work. Too much stimulation. Too much hot and cold and it made me shudder and clench to think about doing it. They told me to shower when I got home. Get out of that rain and get warm in the shower. And so there I was sitting on the bathmat pretending to shower because it was just all too much.
There was a knock at the door that startled me.
"What?" I said with frustration.
"You’ve been in there a long time, sweetie. Are you okay?" my mom asked through the door.
"I’m enjoying the shower," I said as I hugged my naked self.
I waited and listened. She was gone. I sighed, long and heavy, got up off the floor and put on some clothes. Black sweat pants, black long sleeve shirt. Clean underwear. No bra. I’d given up on bras by that point—given up on pretty. I left the bathroom and shuffled over to my bedroom. I lay under the covers to hide from the daylight that sank into my room. I could hear the tittering of rain on the roof, scratching of tree branches in the wind outside my window. It soothed me as I lay there, numb to life, numb to anything but the thought of death and how the world around me wanted me dead.
My head was crowded with thoughts as I lay face up on my bed and stared at the cottage cheese ceiling. I couldn’t stop thinking. Thoughts raced inside of me like a high speed train, only I was terrified of trains and wouldn’t in my right mind go near one. But I wasn’t in my right mind anymore. I lay there with thoughts spilling out of my brain. Reverberating thoughts on how a high speed train was smashing through my mind. I shuddered as I lay there thinking about it. My skin felt like it was crawling with goose bump that were layering themselves over my arms. My little thin arm hairs were sticking straight up and my heart was racing faster than I felt it could handle. I wanted some peace but my mind just wouldn’t shut up.
The thoughts were about anything and everything. I had a lot of criticizing thoughts. I should have done this... I shouldn’t have done that... I was stupid for ever bothering with this or that... How could I have done such a thing...? Why? Why did I do that? I am such a moron! Lots of thoughts like that. And then there were the ever abundant ideas filling my head. Wouldn’t it be cool if I became an astronaut and traveled in space? I could invent a spaceship. Wouldn’t that be cool? Or I could invent some sort of immortality device. Maybe I should get frozen, or cryo... whatever it’s called, so that I can be revived in the future where people are living in outer space and flying around the galaxy. Wouldn’t that just be cool? I don’t know why I thought it would be cool. And then there were the thoughts about my dead sister. The thoughts that made me want to cry and scream into the depths of my soul that I should be dead instead of her. I miss Janey. Wouldn’t it be nice if Janey were here for this? I wonder what Janey would think of... I wonder if Janey’s spirit thinks of me... I wonder if Janey hates me... I wonder if Janey watches me... What if she wants to haunt me...? Could she scare me? Was that her that day I thought I saw a ghost? Does she want me dead? Can a ghost kill me? Should I kill myself and get it over with? Would sacrificing myself save her somehow? Why did she have to kill herself? Was it my fault? There were too many thoughts of Janey.
As I lay there, I started to get lost and baffled by my thoughts. They were becoming such a mishmash that I couldn’t follow them anymore. I just felt dizzy. I needed peace. I needed to feel calm again. I needed to think like a normal person again, no more trains! Shuddup! Shuddup! Just give me some peace! I threw my fists at myself, punching my left arm with my right fist. I pounded myself over and over again. Each strike made my heart feel like it was skipping a beat. But it was calming. Soothing. I touched the tender skin on my arm, pushing on it to make it ache. I loved the pain. I looked down at my arm and saw the little brown bruises that dotted my arm from the last time I did this. I was thankful for long sleeves this time of year so no one noticed them. Now my arm was marked up with red spots from the fresh hits. I took in a deep breath and held it as I did another blitz attack and pounded my knuckles into my right arm. Each strike ached hard over my whole arm and made the skin tender but I would punch it over and over again, several times in a row, until my whole arm ached with a mind-numbness that soothed me. Soon the sides of both my arms were completely red from the wrist to the elbow. Again, I touched the tender skin and pushed on it and a rush of soothing pain flooded over me, again, again, again... push into the pain, push into the anger, push into the sorrow. Pain will free me. Pain will release me.
“Annalyn?” Dad said as he stood at my door. It was open to my surprise and he stood there staring at me blankly.
“Dad!” I jumped up, putting my arms behind my back, and tried to look straight faced and normal.
“What were you doing hitting yourself?” he asked me in a stern voice.
“What? What the hell are you talking about? How dare you accuse me of hurting myself. Just go away. Leave me alone!” I screamed as I pushed past him and ran down the stairs.
“Annalyn!” He ran after me and I felt his harsh grip tighten around my bicep as I reached for the front door.
“Stop it! Let go of me!” I cried as a rush of tears streamed down my face.
“No. What were you doing? Tell me now.”
“Why are you like this? You were so understanding before. For awhile anyways. And now you are back to the scary man who never understands anything. You scare me. That’s right, I said it! I’m scared of you. Now leave me the hell alone!” I could hear my shrill voice echoing through my head as my thoughts chattered away about how screwed up I am making this for myself. I can never go home. That’s what I thought. I can never go home now. I have to get out of there. Get out of there. Get out! Now!
“Annalyn,” he said a little quieter. He looked at me stunned, his eyes wide and painful, and I realized he didn’t know what to say. I jerked my arm out of his grip and ran out the door as fast as I could. “Annalyn, wait!” His voice chased me.
I didn’t look back. I kept running. I took some short cuts through people’s yards and around fences and through alleys and just kept running for my life. Eventually I reached the park and stumbled onto the grass out of breath. I looked around. He wasn’t anywhere. I heaved for breath… choked and gasped… coughed and finally I started to breathe steadily again. I took in several deep breaths and slowly let them out. My chest had been racing but now the beating was starting to slow. I felt dizzy and I lay back on the grass, still soaking wet from the rain, which had stopped at least.
I lay there and scrunc
hed my eyes tight. My head was swimming, floating around and feeling like it was bobbing up and down. A swarm of bees came in the form of thoughts. One by one, they buzzed in my brain. Thoughts about this and that, about my father—what he would do to me if I ever returned? I had really messed things up this time and now my life was in danger. What could I do? Where would I go? I needed some peace! Mom—what would she think if I never came back? But Dad. I couldn’t come back. He’d kill me. I told him off. I told him off! I was in trouble. I was in life-threatening danger. Maybe Lexie could help me. But no. Because she was conspiring with them. She was on their side now and she’d tell them the minute I came to her. I didn’t know what to do. What could I possibly do now? I was screwed. No one to turn to. Lydia hated me. I killed her sister according to her. It was my fault Janey died. I screwed everything up. I wanted to die. They wanted me to die. Everyone wanted me to die. Janey wanted me to die. I would have to die. Her ghost would find a way to kill me and she would make it so torturous. I deserved to die. Shuddup! Shuddup! Shuddup! I need some peace!
Breathe. Just breathe in. Steadily. It’s your fault she died. It’s your fault. You killed her. She stabbed herself and it was your entire fault. She’s dead. She’s dead. Gone. Rotting in the dirt. You fucked her over so bad, you little witch! Shuddup! Shuddup! I didn’t even know if those were my thoughts or people yelling at me inside my head anymore. The thoughts were just too much. Or the voices. The people yelling inside my head. Whatever they were. I couldn’t take it. Peace! I need some peace!
Tears streamed down my hot face and I started to pant and heave and struggled for breath. I was going to die from insanity if I didn’t find some peace then and there. And then it hit me. Peace—where I’d find it. I knew where to find it. I remembered. I was twelve and I almost drown and when I stopped struggling, there was so much peace. The water. That’s where I’d find peace.
I got up off the grass and started walking. There was a small lake in the middle of this woodsy park. No one swam in it. Some people fished in it. I walked steadily towards it, stomping through the wet grass in my soaking slippers, burgundy against my fully black outfit. I was on a mission and I knew exactly what I had to do. I walked down the path through the trees and saw the water bathing in a rainy mist. As I cleared the trees, I realized it was raining again. I looked at the grey surface that reflected the grey sky and watched as the rain tit tatted on the surface. I walked along the path until I reached the dock. It was slippery. I walked briskly across it to the end and stood there staring at the water. It was dark, muddy looking. Suddenly I didn’t know what I was doing anymore. I was standing on the edge of a dock in the middle of an autumn storm. It was freezing out. I... I ... just wanted some peace and the minute I got to this place, I knew this isn’t where peace was. I sat down cross legged on the dock and sobbed. My face fell to my hands and I cried. I was lost.
Epilogue
This is it, the here, the now, the end of the story or the beginning of something else. I don’t know what it is. I’m so tired and I just need to know how this all happened because I can’t wrap my brain around it. How did my life come to this desperate point? I ask this as tears stream down my face. I ask this after hours of beating on my arms, after days of red marks piling on top of bruises that are layering on top of each other. How the hell did this all happen! Please, someone tell me. Please please please put my mind to rest, give me an answer, a solution, something! How did I go from being this normal girl going to university and starting her adult life to being this insane person, this person whose depressing horrible self has hurt everyone around her? My sister killed herself. How could… how… why… so many horrible questions echoing in my mind. I’m overwhelmed. I’m exhausted. I don’t think I can take this anymore. I can’t think clearly anymore. I’ve gone through it all. All the events. I’ve laid them out in front of me, all the details. Now someone just tell me how the hell it all came to this point!
I’m sitting here wondering the answer to every question in my brain and it just hurts so much. A knife stabbing my guts—that’s how much it hurts. Funny, that’s how my sister killed herself. I feel like my guts are being stabbed and that is exactly how my sister ended her life! How twisted and stupid and just wrong is that?
I’m sitting here and I can’t take the pain. I’m sitting here and I can’t stand the crying anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t breathe anymore. I’m gasping for air. The room is spinning and I am dizzy and my heart is beating so fast I feel like I am going to die. I can’t breathe. Oh seriously, what happened in my life? Breathe. Breathe. I am telling myself to breathe. My hands are trembling. I bring them up to my face and my whole body shudders, cold chills down my spine, goose bumps all over my flesh. I look down at my arms and see them bruised and red. I’ve been doing it again. Hitting myself. And it’s not enough anymore. Next to me is something better. Something worse. Something sharper than fists. It’s been here all along and I never even thought of it before a few minutes ago. I put it on the night table beside me and I’ve been eyeing it ever since. A little pushpin. It’s green on the end. There was a red one too, but that just seemed too... I don’t know. Sick and twisted. Maybe it’s all sick and twisted.
I take the pushpin in between my thumb and forefinger and let the sharp point touch the skin of my bruised up arm. I feel a chill run down my arms. I push a little harder. It scratches, but doesn’t bleed. I feel a surge, a rush and suddenly I take that pushpin and strike it, like a match, against my skin. Owe! Shit, that hurts! That stings. But it’s good. I like it. My skin stings and my whole arm aches. I look at my left arm to see a red scratch across it, about an inch and a half across. It’s filling with blood. Not enough to trickle down away from the wound, but enough to fill it and make a bright red scratch. It’s like little beads of dark blood coloring in a line. I touch it with my finger tip, smear the blood around a bit. I’m fascinated by it. It’s such a beautiful rich colour. I want more of it.
Scratch. Stinging. Beads of blood. Fascination.
I’m breathing steadily. I feel like life is breathing into me again. I feel again. I feel pain but I also feel and it’s better than that sorrow-filled death feeling I’ve had for so long. I feel... it’s intense... it’s a thrill. I like it. I like how I feel. It’s like endorphins are pumping through me. I do it again and again. Strike on skin. Red against the flesh of my useless existence. I’m alive! There’s blood, There’s proof! I’m alive.
I look up and as I do, I unintentionally glance at a picture of me and Janey on my bulletin board. It’s hanging crooked because I took the pushpin that was holding up the right side of it. She’s smiling. She’s happy. She’s bright-eyed and cheery. Oh and I love her so much. Oh, I miss her so much. What am I doing? I start to cry. I break down and sob into my hands as my whole body heaves and shakes and my hands start to tremble again. This is why she left. This is why she died. It all started with blood. My blood. What the hell have I done! The knife-stabbing-into-my-guts-feeling is back and I cringe and continue sobbing. The door opens.
"Mom!" I gasp as I see her standing there open-mouthed and wide-eyed at me.
"What are you doing?" she cries. Her face is so red and teary that it makes me cry even harder.
"Don’t tell Dad. Please, Mom. I’m sorry. I’ll stop." I plead with her but she keeps on crying and soon I hear the stomping up the stairs. Here it comes.
"What did you do this time!" I look and it isn’t him, but Lydia.
"What are you doing here?" I ask her, my mouth erupting with my contempt for her.
I sniffle and wipe my nose. And then I notice the smears of blood on my comforter. Shame etches into me. I grab a tissue and wipe the blood off my arm while they gawk at me and bicker with each other and I’m not even listening to them anymore.
"I’ll talk to her," I hear Lydia’s voice. Mom disappears from the doorway.
I lick my finger tips and try to rub off the rest of the blood from my skin. She abruptly grab
s the tissue from me. I grab another one and ignore her.
"What the hell do you think you are doing! Didn’t our sister killing herself over your misery not teach you anything!" Lydia says, her harsh voice jabbing into my ears.
"Leave me the hell alone," I yell as I stare at my own blood.
"Did you not see Mom’s face? Did you not see the pain on it? She was crying. You made her cry. You’ve hurt her so much over the last couple months and you don’t even care. How dare you do that to her. To Janey. How dare you!" Her words stab into me and make my heart feel like it’s in a cinch. I sniffle and stare at my arm some more, red and bruised and now with four scratches across it.
"Leave me alone."
"Don’t you care about any of us. Maybe you are the one who should have died. I lost my sister because of you! She was innocent and young and you stole that from her!"
I can’t breathe again. I try to suck air in. I am being smothered by an invisible force. I shudder and gasp for air.
"Don’t you care!" Lydia screams shrill in my face as she grabs my bicep and shakes me hard. "Look at me!"
"No! Go the hell away. You think I don’t care? I care. Now leave me the hell alone!" I cry.
"Go to hell, Annalyn!" She screams at me and leaves, slamming the door shut. Bang. It echoes into my brain. Like a gun going off in my ear. Bang. Maybe I should be gone. Bang. Bang bang bang. I can’t take this anymore. Bang bang bang. Go to hell Annalyn. Yeah. Bang. Bang. Bang. I’m so lost. My family hates me. They blame me for my sister’s death. I’m so lost that nothing makes sense anymore. I can’t take the screaming inside my head anymore. I can’t take anything anymore. Bang. Bang. Take away the pain. Slam and it’s gone. Can’t it be so easy?
I leave my house. I escape them, their anger and their hatred of me. They think I killed her with my words, with my darkness. They abandon me now. And it doesn’t matter because I am abandoning myself right now. Checking out. It doesn’t matter anymore. Just get me the hell out of this life. Get me out of here. Get me out! I need out! Now! It’s gotta be now! Let me go! Let me.... leme...leme...leme.... it has to end.... it has to stop.... the voices are screaming in my head. "You’re a bad girl and she’s dead because of you, because of what you did to her. You killed her. You hurt her. She’s dead because of you. You’re bad. You’re evil. Just kill yourself now. End it now. End the pain. She’s in hell because of you. Free her by freeing yourself. Just do it now! Do it now! Now! Now! Now!"
"Shut up!" I scream. "Shut up! Go the hell away!" Shrill voice. I can hear the shrill down into my soul. I am itching to end it anyways. I need to get out. Now! Now! Now! Leme leme leme.... Oh God! Just let it end now!
"You’re going to die. Die now! Die now! Do it. Follow the light. It will save you. It will soothe you. Go to the light. Do it now! Do it now! Die! Die! Die!" the voices taunt.
"Shut up! Shut up shuddup... shuddup... shuddup..." I scream aloud.
Somehow I’m on the ground and it’s the dead of night and I’m sitting here on the side of some road collapsed to my knees and crying. I’m here ready to die and I just gotta know how. How do I do it? Peace. Peace. I need some peace. Quiet. Calm. Make the voices go away. Make the pain go away. I am in so much pain. Her death killed me and I am not alive anymore to go on. I have to leave here now! Now! Now! Just let me out of here now! God! Now! Save me, God! Save me from this!
I’m pushing myself off the ground, walking forward down the street, brisk. Fast. I’m running now. My heart is pounding. I gotta find a way. I need out of here. God just give me a sign for where to go, how to do it. I am in panic and I can’t think straight and I just know my brain isn’t working anymore. It has to stop now! Stop Stop Stop! Oh God, just stop it all! Oh, God. What do I do anymore? Oh God oh god oh god. Somebody please just save me! Let me die and save me from this hell!
I’m running.... fast as I can go, heart beating fast. Breathing hard and deep and fast. Get that breath in there. Go! Go! Go! Find it!
I’m running... I’m running... away... far away far away....
What else is there to do.... just run....
I’m at the park. I’m at the cliff. I’m looking beyond the cliff. I could jump here, but... no... I see it. I see where to go. I know what to do. I know... I know. And now I feel calm because I know. Run run run... over to the path and down. Winding around, through the trees in this moonless night. It’s all darkness from here to the end. And I can do it. I can do it now because I have to. I have to! Have to have to have to... I’ve never felt such adrenalin going through all of my body. My entire body is high on a rush and I know exactly what to do. Run... run... run down the path... run closer... closer to the end...
I’m here. I’m out of breath and it doesn’t matter at all. I don’t need my breath for much longer. I am here. I am here. Stand. Stand tall. Wait for it, for the calm to come. I am here. It will be so peaceful. It will be so silent and quiet. Hushing silence. Hushing the nerves. Hushing the emotional turmoil. Hush my head and the voices and the bad thoughts. Hush the pain. Hush. Hush hush hush.
The ground is rumbling now. Vibrations that edge deep into my soul. Wait for it. It’s coming closer. Tremors below me. My hands are trembling, my body quivering, but just as much for excitement as the adrenalin is making me crazy. And the voices screaming in my head.
"You are worth nothing. Death is all you are worth. She died because of you. She killed herself because of you. You are going to die now. Die now! You must die! Go to hell!"
"I don’t believe you!" I scream.
This is my calm. My savior. My whole body is shaking now as I stand there between the parallel lines of metal that lead to my death. It’s the end. The end is near. And if only she hadn’t died. It wouldn’t have to be this way. God, I loved her so much. God, I deserve this end so badly because I killed my sister when she jabbed that knife into her stomach and bleed to death alone. It was me who did it! I didn’t have to stab her to be the one. I was the one so badly and she died because of me. Tears are streaming down my warm face. It feels hot red as I stand here. I’m scared. I’m terrified. My heart feels like it’s skipping every second beat. Fluttering in chest. Trembling in legs of jelly and fingers that can’t stop dangling beside me. Oh God! Here it comes.
Flash of light. Big bold beautiful light. It’s my path to heaven. It’s the path to my peace. To her peace. We’ll be together in heaven and we’ll reconcile there. They will be rid of me, they can be rid of their hatred of me, the burden of me, the sick bastard I am. It’s all gonna end.
Rumbling at my feet. Light flooding into my eyes, bathing my whole body. Whistling angrily ahead of me, it’s telling me to move but I’m not gonna move out of the way. This is it. This is my savior. My savior! Come! Come! Come!
"You’re bad. You’re going to hell now!" voices scream inside my head.
"I don’t believe you. I’m going to be with her once again, finally. Together."
It’s coming! It’s coming! Oh shit, is it ever coming! Heart too fast. Can’t think anymore. Breathing fast. Everything is fast. Here it comes! Train. Screeching in my ears, metal scraping on metal, whistle blowing furiously. My ears hurt from it and it doesn’t matter. I am screaming as it comes, its wind blowing in my face, light blinding me, "This is my end! This is my peace! This is my....Oh shit!"
Hands in front of face, cringe, shrill scream... "Oh shit.... Ahhh—"
###
About the Author:
Lindsey Webster graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology and endeavored to get another degree in mental health in accordance with her passion for mental health and for the darker side of life that encompasses mental illness, disorder, abuse, trauma and anything else that challenges the soul. Her writing explores this world and has been inspired by her own struggles with darkness, disorder, and chaos. Her novel, Entangled in Darkness, delves into the breath of bipolar disorder and a family's struggle with mental illness. Her other passions include writing poetry and journal
ing. She lives with her many pets in Canada and continues her work in mental health and continues to write—now under the pen name Michelle Webster.
Connect with her online:
Author Website: https://michellewebsterauthor.com
Facebook Page: https://facebook.com/mlwebsterauthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MLWebsterAuthor
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