Chapter 5
It had been an unpleasant week and the sorrow was gnawing inside my stomach as I lay in my bed, the burgundy comforter swallowing me up. I didn’t want to open my eyes. There was no point. Somehow, the world didn’t seem important enough for me to actually uncover my head and look out.
I could hear talking in the distance. I assumed it was Shauna and Lexie. I didn’t know what time it was but I figured Lexie had just gotten home from work at the bookstore. I was scheduled to work that day but I called in sick. Dan wasn’t very happy with me but I let my voice fall flat and raspy as I spoke, making it all sound more convincing. Then I flopped back in bed and lay there, sleeping off and on and making a couple bathroom trips, for what must have been nine hours if she had just gotten home from work.
I admit, the time had gone slowly and felt rather torturous. But getting out of bed seemed like a worse choice. I can’t explain why. There was just something fearful about the world outside of my covers. It felt like dread was waiting for me out there. But in reality, dread was sitting inside my whole body that entire day, every day, and it pervaded every part of my life.
I hadn’t gone to school all week. It was just too much to bear. The idea of sitting in class, of having to expend the energy to sit, listen and take notes, to get dressed and shower before hand, to drive there, heck to get out of bed at all, was too obnoxious for me to even consider. So I lay there, occasionally getting up for bathroom breaks, for watching TV, and for taking endless amounts of Tylenol and Advil to make my headaches go away. So I let the world go by without me.
I rarely ate a whole meal. I couldn’t stomach it. I would eat half a piece of dry bread, being too tired to actually make it into a sandwich, or I’d just snack on some chips or crackers. It wasn’t enough to thrive on, but it let me get through each day without starving to death. I wasn’t my plan to starve myself. I simply did not have an appetite. Looking at food was almost nauseating to me. It was unbearable to shove food down my throat. I had to force myself to eat simply so my stomach would stop with the painful hunger pangs.
As I lay there, I could hear the talking getting closer. I decided to get out of bed and put my ear up to the door.
"I’m really getting worried about her."
It was Lexie’s voice. I waited to hear a response but there wasn’t one. She must have been talking on the phone.
"I just don’t know what to do. She barely talks to me about it. She just says she feels awful, but she never tells me why," she said, her voice filled with an edginess, like she was trying to calm a panic brewing inside. "She hasn’t gone to school at all this week and she called in sick at work today. I don’t think she ever calls in sick even when she is sick. It’s all so unlike her."
My headache throbbed as I listened in knowing she was talking about me. Who could she be talking to though?
"Maybe you can get through to her. It seems like the situation is beyond me. I’ve tried to help her as much as I can, but I can’t get through to her. That’s why I called you. I’m so worried about her. What do you think?" Her voice was shaky and exhausted.
There was silence for about a minute.
"Okay, thanks. I’ll talk to you soon," Lexie told the person.
I assumed she had hung up at that point. I didn’t hear anything else after that. I listened for a few more minutes, trying to figure out what her plan was. Soon I heard a door shut. I quietly peaked out of my room and looked around. Lexie’s shoes were still sitting by the door. I looked a little further and noticed her bedroom door was shut. I figured she had gone in there. It seemed like there was nothing else to do so I went back to bed, my head dizzy and my body like lead.
I got back under the covers and pulled them over my head. The darkness felt comforting, leading me to a slumber. I may not have been able to sleep at night, but I could sleep all day long. It was a different kind of sleep though. Often I couldn’t tell if I was awake and lying in my bed or if I was dreaming it. I’d feel so heavy and I couldn’t move or get out of bed. Then I’d seem to drift into darkness again and suddenly wake up to the sound of something and know I was definitely awake.
I would often have nightmares too. They were more vivid and strange than the dreams I had during the night. Maybe it’s because I remembered them better. I often dreamt I was drowning. I could feel my body drifting further and further into the murky water and somehow I would feel so much calmer. But then I would be ripped away from the calm by my father yelling. I could never hear what he was yelling about, but I knew it was him. I could see him through the water’s surface as if he were a mirage on the other side. Then I would wake up feeling as if I had been ripped apart naked and vulnerable just as if he were there.
That day, I had quickly fallen back asleep and soon found myself in a grassy field. Around me there was long yellow grass. I touched it and it felt dry and harsh on my fingers as if it would give me a paper cut if I ran my finger tips across the edge of each blade. I had been lying down on the ground, rocks and pebbles in my back, when I forced myself up. I started to walk down the field when I noticed I had no shoes on. My sockless feet felt the rough ground beneath them as I walked on. Each step was filled with little rocks and dried grass digging into my feet.
It was not long before I realized where I was. It was near the lake house we had when I was growing up. I was in the field where the trees opened up in the middle of the woods. About half a kilometer north, just through the trees and past the windy road, was our house. I continued walking until I could see it. It was a quaint brown house. I crossed the road and walked down our gravel driveway. There were no cars. I walked up the two steps onto the front porch and tried to open the brown door. It was locked. I felt around in the pockets of my green cotton twill shorts and found they were empty. I decided to walk around back, my stomach fluttering.
As I walked further, I could see the large deck we had that looked out onto the lake. At sunset we would watch the sun glisten on the water as it drew red and orange flames across the sky. By the time I got to the back of the house, night had fallen suddenly. There were no lights on in the house. There was no one around except for spiders in their elaborate webs that were taking over the porch. The house looked lonely, sad even. My parents still owned the house. They rented it out all year long. We stopped going up there when I was twelve and nearly drowned in that lake.
I approached the dock and walked towards the end of it. It was about 10 metres long. As I neared the water, I could see the moonlight reflecting on it. I looked in and saw the silhouette of myself against the light of the moon and felt a shudder down my back. I knelt down and waved my hand through the cold water. My heart raced as I saw something stir below the water. I jumped up and walked backwards as my stomach twisted inside. I told myself it was just a fish.
Suddenly the dock started to rock. The plank at the end buckled and caved into the lake. Each plank after that cascaded into the water. I turned around and ran, screaming for help in a shrill voice. As I took another step, my whole body crashed into the freezing water. I thrashed my arms around as I went under. My eyes were wide open in panic and then suddenly I saw her. It was a body floating in the water, its skin white like ice and its hair streaming through the lake. My heart stopped. The body slowly floated closer to me, rotating until its face was staring me dead in the eyes. I stopped thrashing my arms. I stopped everything as I saw her face. It was me. I was dead and floating beneath the surface with my glassy eyes open and hollow with no life.
I awoke suddenly as someone’s hand graced the skin of my shoulder. My eyes felt wide and terror stricken as I screamed out. I saw my mom’s shocked face staring at me as I sat up.
"What are you doing, Mom!" I cried out.
"Were you having a nightmare, sweetheart?" she said as she sat down on the bed next to me. Her warm hands swept away the glistening sweat on my forehead.
"Yes," my voice whimpered.
"Why don’t you tell me about it? I ca
n make you some hot chocolate and we can sit and talk," my mother said with a soft smile on her face.
"Mom, why are you here?" I asked as a part of me wondered if I was still dreaming.
"Lexie called me, dear."
"What?" I said stunned. Suddenly I realized that’s who Lexie was talking to on the phone earlier. She was conspiring against me and I had no idea why. I felt rage inside. "She had no right to do that. I don’t even understand why she would!"
"Calm down. She was worried about you," my mother hushed me.
"No. There’s no reason to be worried! I am fine. Why can’t anyone understand that," I yelled as my eyebrows furrowed tightly.
"Then why haven’t you been going to school? Why didn’t you go to work today?" she asked me, her voice remaining calm and steady.
"Because I didn’t feel well!" I said. "Maybe I have a cold or something. But that is no reason for her to call you. I don’t need my mommy to come around and save me every time I’ve got a runny nose."
"You don’t have a runny nose or a cold. You are upset and Lexie called me because she was concerned. I’m glad she called. I’ve never heard you talk to me in such a vulgar tone before. Obviously something is wrong," mom explained, her voice still gentle and calm.
"No. Nothing is wrong. Why can’t people just leave me alone!" I whined.
"Because we care about you, sweetheart. Now let me help you," she said gently. She started to rub my shoulder. I immediately knocked her arm away from me.
"I don’t need help. I don’t need help! Just leave!" My voice growled.
"Annalyn!" Mom said as her eyes changed from loving to shocked. I never yelled at her like that before.
"Get out of here!" I got up and grabbed her arm, dragging her off the bed and out of my room.
"Stop! Please stop!" she cried out, her eyes wide and tearful.
I let go of her as soon as I had gotten her out of my room, then I slammed the door in her face. I turned around and leaned against the door, letting my body sink into the ground. Tears streamed down my face as my guts twisted up in disgust at myself. I didn’t know what had come over me. Everything inside of my head was screaming and I just had to let it out.
My mind was in a constant struggle with itself. I was constantly ruminating about every detail of my life. My mind would chide me for everything I did wrong — for getting Janey upset with me a week ago, for being late for school a few times, for going out in public with greasy hair, for every little mistake I made at work. But it wasn’t just me. The world was turning against me just as my mind was turning against itself. At work, the customers have been talking to my boss and eyeing me as they look irate. People were always looking at me. I knew they were gossiping about me as they gave me uncomfortable glances filled with disgust. Shauna hated me. She thought I was weird, strange, a freak. She pretended to be nice to me, but I knew what she really thought. She was going about telling everyone she knew about her freak of a roommate.
The fact that Lexie had called my mother behind my back just further proved that people were really against me. I trusted her more than anyone else and now she was turning out to be a backstabber. I felt intensely betrayed and angry in that moment.
As I sat on the carpet in my bedroom, leaning my back against the door, I could hear people talking. I stopped sobbing in order to listen to them.
"She’s quite upset that you called me, but I think you did the right thing. She doesn’t look well. Her father gets in moods like this. It’s best to just be there for her until she gets back on her feet," my mom explained.
"I’ve been trying to but she won’t let me," Lexie replied.
"I think it’s best if I brought her home for a few days to a week or so. After she’s feeling better, she can come back here and start going back to school."
"But what if she fails school? She can’t keep missing class. I don’t think she cares right now but when she does feel better, she’s gonna be very upset for failing out of university."
"I’m sure it will only take a week and then she’ll be her old self again. As I said before, her father gets like this. They are just sensitive people who get in very deep moods. With her family by her side, she’ll be as good as she was in a week." My mom said. I couldn’t understand why after she had lived with my father for so long and had seen his moods plummet every few months.
"I don’t think she will be willing to go home with you. How are you gonna convince her?" Lexie asked her.
I could hear my mom sigh through the door. After a moment, I heard a gentle knock that made me cringe.
"Annalyn, can you open the door?" Mom asked, her voice soft.
I wiped away my tears and stood up. "I don’t want to talk right now."
"I know you don’t, but we need you to come out and talk to us," Mom said.
"I’ve been listening to you. I know your plan. I’m not coming with you. I don’t want to live with Dad again."
"He’s been good lately, Annalyn. I know he just wants to help you as much as I do. Come out now, okay," Mom said.
I opened the door, my face filled with sorrow, drooping eyes and a terrible frown. I fell into her arms and sobbed. "Mom, I can’t do this anymore. Life is just too much."
"Just come home with me and things will get better."
"She’s right Annalyn," Lexie said as she gently put her hand on my back. I continued to hug my mom, refusing to let go.
"Come home with me, sweetie."
"Mom, I don’t know if I can. I’m afraid of what Dad will think," I whimpered.
"He just wants to help you. He loves you, like I do. Come home with us and you’ll see," Mom said in her gentle soothing voice.
"Okay." I let go of her and wiped away my tears.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lexie’s teary-eyed face. I didn’t know whether or not to be angry with her. I felt confused about my feelings, about everything. I turned around and headed back to my room without saying anything to her.
Mom followed me into my room and brought out a bag from my closet and started packing my clothes. I just sat on the bed, my mind a haze. I stared downwards at the floor feeling bogged down by my emotions and a nervous twinge in my stomach. I didn’t know if going home with my mom would ultimately lead to my demise or save me. Maybe she could save me. Maybe she had enough love and nurturance to do that. But my father would be there and I couldn’t imagine him doing anything but make me worse. And so I headed off as soon as she finished packing and followed her knowing this would likely be my end.
The feeling of dread churned in my stomach as I walked. But I couldn’t turn back. The sadness inside me had crippled me so bad that I couldn’t do anything at all for myself anymore. Mom was offering me a way out of my day to day life of being frozen in time, of being swallowed up by my bed for hours on end. I didn’t see any other option but to take her hand and follow her. I may have felt scared to death of going back home to where my father was. But I couldn’t bear to stay where I was. I had to comply or I would be stuck in that bed, imprisoned by my own mind turning against me forever. And so I walked on.
Lexie stared at me as I left. I said nothing to her. I was so ambivalent about her in that moment that I had no words for her. I just left quiet and solemn.
The stairs looked daunting as they stood before me. I had walked up them a thousand times but suddenly it looked as if I was about to climb a mountain. I was to hike up them. Eleven steps. One at a time I took them, forcing each foot upwards to the next step. My lethargic body wanted to give out after five steps, but I pushed on. I had to make it to my bedroom. I had to get to my bed and pull up the covers until they bundled me up with a tightening sensation of security. A few minutes later, I was doing just that. As I sunk underneath the floral comforter of my childhood bedroom, the intensity within me started to melt away and I was soothed. I lay there in the darkness, my head covered up and my eyes closed, hoping to just fall asleep. Before I could, a knock at th
e door startled me.
"What?" I groaned.
The door opened a creak and I saw Janey stick her head in. "Can I come in?" she whispered and I perked up a little.
I nodded and she came in, shutting the door quietly behind her. "Why are you being so quiet?" I asked her as I rubbed my eyes open.
"I was told not to bug you, but I just had to see you," she said.
"Who told you that?" I asked.
"Mom and Dad," she said.
"That’s crap. I should get to say who I get to see. Just ignore them and come sit down." I felt irritation spewing out of me.
Janey came and sat down on my bed and looked at me with curiosity for a moment. She bit her lip and held it like that for a few seconds. Then she looked past me and smiled.
"What?" I asked her, looking around to see what had caught her eye.
"I love this picture," she said and grabbed a photo off my bulletin board. She showed it with a smile.
"I love that one too," I said, looking at the picture of the two of us on Halloween several years earlier.
I snatched the picture out of her hand and stared at it for a moment. She was four years old and dressed as a lady bug in a bright red costume my mom had sewn. I was a ten year old purple fairy complete with wings and glitter all over my hair. My arm was stretched around her shoulder as I kneeled next to her. Our smiles made me tear up a little.
I remembered that I used to be happy, but somehow that happiness was gone. I couldn’t remember how it felt, just that I had felt it before. I knew it wasn’t forever ago. It wasn’t even more than a few months earlier that I had felt moments of happiness. But now, something inside me was so broken that I couldn’t draw up those feelings anymore. I was incapable of feeling them. So as I looked at the photograph, a tear rolled down my cheek and my heart crushed in half from the bittersweet feeling of seeing something I longed for so much.
"What’s wrong?" Janey asked as her forehead crinkled.
"I just miss those days," I said.
"You miss being a kid? Being a kid isn’t that great. I’m sure if you were one you’d remember and want to go back to being grown up."
"No," I said with a breath, shaking my head. I smiled at the picture and then winced as tears fell. "No, I wouldn’t."
"Annalyn, tell me what’s going on with you," she asked.
"I just..." There were no words to describe it. I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t know what to tell myself.
"Come on. Tell me. I won’t tell Mom and Dad," she pressed.
"I don’t know what to say, honestly. There’s nothing to tell." I looked into her eyes with my own misery and felt like I was staring a hole through this young girl who knew nothing of these horrible feelings.
"Don’t. I know you have something to say. Just say it. I need to know what’s going on with you. Don’t you trust me?" she asked, her eyes looking as if they were pleading for my trust.
"I do, it’s just that it’s so huge. At least it feels so huge— the way I’m feeling— that I don’t know how to describe it. I just feel so awful, so horrible, so..." I shook my head as the confusion about my feelings pervaded me. "…so unhappy. I don’t know why. I don’t understand it at all."
"Well, why are you unhappy?" she asked me as if knowing the answer to that question would solve everything.
"I just told you, I don’t know why. I don’t know why at all and it’s driving me insane. I feel like I’m slipping away into the depth of... an abyss. I’m empty. I’m nothing. I’m half dead and miserable and no one can seem to help me. Lexie has tried. Mom has tried. I’m hopeless, useless. Just give up on me now," I slunk down, staring towards the carpet in shame as my face drooped.
"I can help you," she said in a simplistic voice, giving me a poke.
"Don’t. You don’t get it. You’re too young. You haven’t experienced enough of the miserable side of life to understand yet."
"Don’t you say that to me! I’m not some kid who doesn’t understand anything. You of all people should know I go through crap every day. I can’t believe you think I’m a stupid little kid," she looked at me as her eyes welled up.
"I’m sorry," I looked down for a moment and shook my head. Then I looked up, dead into her eyes. "You just don’t understand."
"That’s crap! How dare you say that to me!" she yelled as her face turned fiery red.
"Calm down!" I hushed her.
"No. Now I know there’s something wrong with you. Annalyn would never say these things. You come home all sad and no one knows what’s wrong with you. I didn’t believe them when they said you weren’t yourself. Now I know they were dead on. You’re not the same person I knew months ago. Who are you? Bring me back my sister," she cried.
"What?" I felt, as I choked at hearing her words.
"I want my sister back. Stop all this stupidness and bring her back! Stop being sad. Stop lying in bed and hiding under the covers and telling me about how you’re a hopeless cause. Because you are not! You are not! You are my sister and I want you back!" she cried.
Tears fell down my face. I felt my whole body tense, my mind and face cringing, as I looked at her tears. She didn’t understand at all. No one did.
"Look, it’s good that you don’t understand. It’s too much for someone so young to have to know. There are just things going on that even I don’t understand. Everything is so mind-boggling. Life is hazy and confusing and a jumble of feelings and stressors and emotions. It’s better that you don’t get it," I explained. Her eyes grew sharp.
"Shut up. Stop saying all this philosophical crap. I’m not a kid and you just won’t hear that. I thought we were friends too, not just sisters. Friends get to know how each other are feeling. Friends get to be there and help each other out. And here you are just blocking me out of your life! Stop it now!" she yelled.
"Janey, quiet. Please. I don’t want Mom and Dad to hear. They don’t need to know I upset you. They’ll just get all weirded-out by it, worry more, spaz more. So quiet," I said.
"It’s all about you isn’t it!" she said crossing her arms. Her eyes stared into me like a knife pressing into my brain.
"Shh..." I said as I slapped her arm gently.
"No! I don’t care if they know."
"Stop it! Will you just shut up before you get me in trouble!"
"Get out of my face!" she yelled, her face a bitter red.
"It’s my room!"
She got up and swung the door opened. Just before leaving she turned around and looked at me with tears streaming down her face.
"Just be my sister again!" she yelled and slammed the door as she walked out.
My face fell to my lap as I sobbed
There was a bang on the door that aroused me from my deadening sleep. Suddenly the door swung open and he stalked inside. My father hovered over me and pulled the comforter off my head. I looked up, my nerves quivering inside me.
"Get up!" he yelled.
I did as he said with no hesitation. I felt a little foggy-headed as I sat up. I didn’t speak. I looked towards him, but not directly at him, and let my eyes blur over.
"Your sister is upset. I know it was you."
He stared at me waiting for an answer. I didn’t know what answer he was looking for, so I just stared back. My heart was sharp inside my chest as it bounced around.
"Well?" His voice echoed in my head.
"I don’t know what you want me to say," I whimpered. "I want you to admit what you did!"
"I didn’t mean to." My voice was meek and my eyes twitched as if they were trembling with fear.
"But you did it. Now she’s in her room crying like a little girl," he said. I looked at the floor imagining the rage that must be in his eyes. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to," I whimpered again.
"What do you mean you didn’t mean to? Are you a baby? Are you not in control of your behaviour?" he asked. I felt his interrogation into the depths of my bones.
&nb
sp; "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!" I cried.
He grabbed onto my arm and shook me. "What is wrong with you!" "Stop it!" I cried.
"No. I want answers. What’s wrong? Why are you acting like a sniveling brat? Get out of bed, get back to school and stop acting like a wimp." He stared straight into my eyes. I tried to look away but his grip tightened. I quivered and cowered for a moment and then I tried to pull away.
"You don’t get it. You never get it. Can’t you just leave me alone?" I cried, as I put my hands up to my face, waiting for him to lash out.
"What don’t I get? Tell me, Annalyn!" he yelled.
"I don’t know. I don’t understand it myself. There’s just something wrong with me. I can’t help it," I tried to tell him as my voice turned into a breathy whisper. I could feel every muscle in my body tremble.
"You can’t help it? How can you not help it? You can get out of bed. There’s no reason to lie in bed all day and feel sorry for yourself."
"I told you. I can’t. Why can’t you ever believe me?" I cried as a frightened rage grew inside of me.
"Believe you? I don’t understand what there is to believe. You’re acting like a child. I don’t think there is anything else to get." "No! That’s not it at all. Stop telling me I’m a child. You don’t even love me. You never have." I looked down and sobbed.
"Love? This isn’t about love, Annalyn. It’s about being a grown up. I’m paying your tuition and you aren’t even going to school. How do you think that makes me feel? I feel pretty damn unloved and unappreciated."
I kept looking down. I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wanted to tell him: So what if you are paying! Money doesn’t equal love! It’s not about you! But I didn’t have the guts.
"Well? You’re just gonna stare at the floor? Don’t you know what to say?" he chided.
"No, I don’t," I said.
"Don’t be a brat! I don’t even want to look at you," he said with a fierce shake of the head. He turned around and stomped out the door. I watched the pictures on the wall shudder as he slammed the door. "I hate you," I whispered. "I hate you, hate you, hate you!" I didn’t know what to do. My feelings were so intense, so angry. I was on the edge of screaming and throwing a fit in that moment. I didn’t know how to calm down. I stared into the vanity mirror across the room at myself. My eyes were piercing. I felt like I would tear myself apart with my gaze alone. I hated myself. I hated him. I hated the world. I couldn’t stand the intense sorrow and anger inside of me anymore. I needed to do something. I needed to do something now. I got off the bed and stormed across the hall in a rage. I found myself in my mother’s sewing room, my eyes scanning the room in a fury. Sharp objects. Painful sharp objects. Lots of them all around me. Needles, pins, sheers... rotary cutter. My world slowed as I saw it. Then I grabbed the rotary cutter off the desk and rushed back into my room, the world speeding up as I did. Everything came spinning around me as I stood there in my room, staring down at my arm. The veins running through my wrist looked striking against the pale flesh. One cut would do it, I thought to myself. One cut to end it all. It just had to be deep enough. One cut. One cut. Do it now! I took the rotary cutter and pressed it down across my wrist and started to roll it to the side. It stung like hell. I cried out. Suddenly I wondered What was I doing? My mind whimpered as cries rung through my mind, reverberating over and over inside the walls of my head. I was so stupid. I was so stupid and now I was gonna die and I wasn’t sure if I was ready.
I dropped the cutter. Blood trickled down my hand in a slow run. I stared at it.
"Oh my God. What have I done?" I mouthed to myself. I stood there feeling my head sway as the dizziness took over me. I was stunned at what I had done. All the anger inside of me seeped away as I stood there, a numbness taking over me.
"Annalyn?" I heard a cry at the door.
I turned around and saw the anguish on my mother’s face as she gazed at my wrist.
"Neil! Neil come quick!" she screamed as she ran into my room and grabbed the nearest piece of clothing she could find—a pink t-shirt that was sitting on my chair. She pressed it against my wrist and held it there tightly.
"What the hell did you do?" my father yelled.
"Grab the first aid kit, Neil!" she screamed.
I felt woozy as I stared down at my blood. There wasn’t that much. It wasn’t pouring out like I thought it would. But my hand was covered in dark blood. I didn’t feel like I could stand any longer, but I was in too much of a haze to make it over to my bed. I couldn’t have been in physical shock. There wasn’t enough blood. But I felt so out of it. I didn’t feel like I could stand up any longer. Mom must have noticed. Soon she was guiding me over to the bed.
"It’s going to be alright. Just lie here," she said.
I lay down on my back and stared at the ceiling in a haze. A moment later I could feel someone prodding at my arm. I didn’t know what my father was doing to me. I looked down and saw the white gauze stained red. I wondered why they weren’t calling for an ambulance. I thought I needed a doctor. I wasn’t sure. Why was no one calling? Didn’t they care? I began to feel very confused. Things were foggy after that. All I remember is staring into space as a blur of parents fussed over me.
Some time passed. I wasn’t sure how much. It could have been seconds or minutes. Maybe ten, maybe twenty. But I could feel people leaving as I lay there with my eyes shut and my arm feeling as if it had been viciously torn apart. Things began to get quiet, making the pain seem even louder. The rushing around me had stopped. I thought they were gone when I heard a hushed but stern voice.
"Watch her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t touch her. Just watch her," my father said.
I looked towards the door and he was gone. I noticed Janey sitting there in an wooden chair next to the door. She was staring out the window opposite me. White light bathed over her face. I didn’t want to disturb her so I just watched her. She didn’t move at all. After a few minutes I realized she was probably afraid to look at me. The whole ordeal must have terrified her. Suddenly an overwhelming guilt sunk into me, into my stomach, into my flesh. It took over me.
"I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to see this," I said just above as whisper.
She looked towards me, but not at me. "It’s okay."
"It’s not. You shouldn’t even be in here. You shouldn’t have to." "I said it’s okay," she repeated.
"I’m sorry," I said again, lost for more words than that. "Stop saying that. I don’t want to hear that." Her voice got a little louder, but it still had a whispery quality to it.
"Then what do you want to hear?" I said really wanting to know what to say to make it all okay.
"Nothing. You should sleep. Mom wants you to sleep. They both do."
"Okay."
I bit my lip and looked at her one last time as she looked down at the ground. I couldn’t stand to see that glossy-eyed look on her face. I felt so guilty. I just wanted her to talk to me and pretend this never happened, as if talking to her like old times would make this all melt away. It couldn’t.
I turned around in bed towards the wall and pulled the covers over me. I couldn’t bear to look at her anymore. I couldn’t bear to look at the world. So I closed my eyes, my arm stinging like knives digging into it, and I tried to sleep. I couldn’t though, but I wasn’t going to stop trying. Sleeping was the only thing I wanted in that moment. I needed to melt away into the darkness and comfort of sleep.