…….

She sets her head down in her lap, the hollow aching in her more evident than ever.  She’s trying to ignore the screaming downstairs and her phone going off with only notifications from the same social media sites where her so-called “friends” comment on every picture.  Everything around her is negative and she’s drowning in it.  The negativity leaves her in a place where she can hardly breathe and she wants to go somewhere else she can call home.  So she sleeps hoping she won’t wake up and dreaming of the day she won’t.

When she awakens she’s suddenly aware of herself.  Aware of the dried blood on her arms, aware of the greasy hair, aware of how fat she is and all her unwanted body hair.  So she sits and she thinks for a very long time and despite the pain, showers to get ready for another day.  She dares not look at herself naked in the mirror because the sight makes her want to throw up .  She’s fat and she knows it because everyone does.  Once she has her long-sleeved shirt on she stares in the mirror and puts up her hair.

“You have to be strong no matter what because your siblings need you for another few years.  Remember college and remember how much better it could be” she tells herself.

It isn’t much motivation but it gets her through the day.  After she’s done with homework and school she finds herself in bed on the internet trying to laugh at the things she sees but all she can think about is how much better it would be if she could be gone.  Away on a permanent vacation in which she never has to hear anything ever again or see anything that could hurt her.  Everything could be so much better but she stays.  She stays through the terrifying night where the shadows make her think of the scary things.  Where she sees things she can’t explain and wills everything to go away.  She wants to die but not in the way the shadows she sees promise.  She’s only fourteen so she can’t do anything to help herself and she needs love because she can’t love herself and no one will teach her to.  She doesn’t understand why everyone is so much better than her.  The movie stars are so beautiful but she isn’t and she never will be.  She does the same thing everyday.

So she cries and cries until she’s twenty-four with no ties.  Her siblings are fine and they’ll continue to be fine and she decides she can get her wish with no interference or guilty conscience.

She walks to her nightstand in her small apartment and opens the bottle of medication.  She gets out paper and a pen then starts to write.  Halfway through she gets a message from a person from high school.  It’s an apology.  She cries and she puts it off for another night.

She’s now eighty-five and has wished for death so many times but never followed through.  She’s got four children that may not look like her but she loves them as if they came from her body.  She holds her wife’s hand and her wife cries.  The hospital has a particular odor that she doesn’t want to smell anymore.  She doesn’t want to hear them cry anymore.  She wants to go to the place where she’s always wanted to go.  She made it so far that she doesn’t know if she wants to go but it’s time and she knows that.  She’ll miss her life which is something she never thought would ever happen.  After getting her doctorate and her job as a professor things seemed to get better.  The hurt was there but the notes weren’t as frequent, and her wife taught her to love and take care of herself.  She tells her wife it’ll be okay and that it’s the place she’s always wanted to go.  As she slips away she can’t help but think about the 46 notes she wrote that remain in her nightstand that she never followed through with.  As death nears she nears the place she’s always dreamed of because dead is the thing she’s always wished to be.  Until now of course, because now she wants to live more.  To sit in her chair holding her wife’s hand while the grandchildren and great-grandchildren are in their home.  The toddlers play with blocks by the television and they all laugh together.  They all cry together.  They all live together.  Together they were and together they would be…

.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.  My mother told me when I was eight what love was like.  True love in her words.  I wonder what happened.”  She says.

“Stop it Emma” Her father says.  

“Apparently it wasn’t true love!” She screams angrily. “In order for it to be true love both parties have to be in lov-” she’s cut off by him slapping her across the face.

“It wasn’t my fault she killed herself because of it I didn’t know” her father screams enraged at his daughter’s outburst.

“AND IT WASN’T HER FAULT THAT SHE APPARENTLY WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU.  IT WASN’T HER FAULT THAT YOU LIED TO HER ABOUT YOUR LOVE FOR HER BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T LOOK PAST THE DAMN SCAR ON HER FACE.”  She screams the words so loud her throat hurts.

The very same year her mother told her about love was the year her mother was attacked in her own home.  She was slashed across the face, her eye swollen shut.  Ever since then her father just didn’t look at her mother the same.  

“Your mother chose death.  She chose the easy way out and I’m sorry because I know that’s hard for you.” Her father says calmly.

“The easy way out?  YOU CHEATED ON HER.  YOU HAD A WHOLE OTHER FAMILY WHILE BEING WITH HER AND IF THAT WASN’T ENOUGH YOU BEAT HER AND YOU CALLED HER NAMES!” she screams.  

The look on her faces displays fear as she knows she’s gone too far. 

Random Paranormal like Mystery story

She wills it all to stop.  She asks it all to just go away and leave her alone forever.  It doesn’t.  It follows her your own shadow when the sun is bright and hot.  It stings like sharp thorns on vines wrapped around her arms and legs.  Love hurts, but it shouldn’t hurt this bad.  Its unnatural the pain she’s in.  It was a unique breakup, but then again every breakup is. 

She turns, her arm visible in the bright full moonlight, bite marks cover her arms.  He looks like a shadow, a quick one though.  A shadow that could be at one place and then another in less than a second.  He looks through her with those unforgiving black eyes.  Tears run down her face but she wills the tears to stop because they like it when you cry. 

“P-p-p-p- l-l ease” she chokes out.

His sharp teeth glitter in the silver light.

“I thought you loved me?” He asks her, the tone of his voice dark but smooth. 

Perhaps like velvet?  He inches closer gracefully.  He bites her like he always does.  The expression on her face is one of shock and horror.  Tears run off her face.  She continues to cry.  She screams.  The screaming stops.  Her body slumps to the ground.

The worst part is she did love him although she didn’t want to.  Although he did horrible things to her.  Although she got weaker and weaker each time he visited.  The pain became an obsession, a hunger.  So she let him in.  She allowed him to enter her home.  Because she loved him.  She loved his dark eyes and his dark hair.  She loved the angle of his cheekbones.  The hunger, the need, her obbession.  Most of all her undying love was what killed her in the end.  But the very worst of it was, that the monster loved her too.  But he couldn’t control the thirst. 

He slumps away, his dark eyes focusing on nothing.  Walking over the blood stains on the carpet, and he tries to cry.  But he can’t.  For everyone knows that the dead cannot cry.

 

….

When I look to my left I see the home phone’s blinking light, I peek at the tiny screen that lets me know how many messages I have.  28 messages.  Wow, people must really feel bad for me.  Maybe it’d be good to listen to the messages, I mean maybe it’ll help me heal.  So I press the yellow blinking button on the answering machine and brace myself.

“Hey, its Erika, I’m really sorry about what happened.  Call me, everyone is really worried about you.”

Really?  You’re all worried about me?  WHO?  I have no friends anymore.  My old best friend lives in Europe and we’ve been out of touch for years.  No one liked me in school really.  I wasn’t exactly the most popular.  They all care now but they didn’t care when I cried in the bathroom about how I had new foster parents every three months.  About how I wished my mother wanted me.  I cried because no one liked me.  I cried because I wanted someone to finally care.  And now, the only person who ever cared, left me just like everyone else did.  Yeah, he left me in a different way but it hurts just the same.  I can’t even think about his name or say it anymore.  I just don’t want to think about it.

“Hey its Ashley from high school, I hope your okay.  You haven’t been talking much.  I’m really sorry about everything.  Call me back.”

The machine moves on, most of it is just people from high school I was acquaintances with that knew my fiance telling me they’re sorry.  I hope they have good lives, I’m sorta happy I listened to the messages.  I guess it just reminds me that people care.  Almost half of the messages are people just trying to sell stuff.  Its comforting to know that people cared though. 

My stomach grumbles and I realize I haven’t eaten yet.  Or gone out to buy food.  I sigh and rush to my room to take a shower and put on my clothes.  I jump into the car and head out to the local walmart.  Since I live father out it takes me thirty minutes to get into town.  Once I get into the store I realize I really don’t want to be there.  Its a small town here in Wisconson.  We all know each other.  Sympathetic looks, well more stares are all directed toward me.  I distract myself by picking out food to cook with.  I buy raw chicken breast, potatoes, pasta and sweets.  A little girl looks at me with her mother and smiles.  I smile back and realize its the first time I’ve smiled since he died.  When I go to check out I’m relieved and think its the last of the awkwardness.  Of course I’m wrong.  A woman comes up to me, I don’t really recognize her.  She hands me a flyer and when she does, I feel like I’m about to break down.  Its an invitation to his favorite Christian church.  I’m not Christian, I just believe in what I want, but he was.  I didn’t mind that he was, he didn’t mind that I wasn’t.  We were happy together.  Occasionally I’d go to Sunday service but not too frequently.

After the cashier finishes scanning all my groceries I leave as fast as I can.  Maybe I should attend the service, I mean he did love it there.  It could help I guess. 

*Three Days Later*

I forgot what it was like here.  I haven’t been here in so long.  People stare when I enter the church.  No one dares speak to me.  I sit alone eating my breakfast.  I guess its nice to be out of the house.  A woman argues with someone at her table quitely and then walks up to my table and sits down.

“They’re all afraid to talk to you” she says.

I smile, “that’s okay, I don’t know if I want to talk to them either.”

“I think its stupid that they won’t, you’re a human being not a monster.  So, would you like to join me later for dinner?” She asks me. 

Her bright green eyes are so happy.  She has an interesting personality.  I like it.

“Sure, its not like I’ve got anything better to do” I say smiling.

One by one, more people join me.  People I barely know, that seem to want to get to know me.  Obviously they feel bad for me but I’m good with that.  It takes my mind off things.

 

. (continued)

The doorbell rings and I make my way to the front door and there is the man I’ve always dreaded seeing.  He hands me the envelope and I don’t even have to read it to know he’s gone.

*One Week Later*

Rain pours down and clouds cover the bright sun.  The day matches my mood, its depressing, perfect to make a funeral even more depressing.  We were supposed to have the funeral a few days ago but I was crying too much. Whew, here we go.  His casket is draped in the American Flag, and then I have to say goodbye.  Its then I break down.  I take off my heels and run across the cemetary to my truck.  As soon as I get into the driver’s seat I realize I can’t cry at all.  I’m trying to hard to cry, I’m not sure why I can’t, I feel like I need to, as if it’s my duty, but I can’t.  Once I heard a quote from a movie based on World War two, one of the women serving as a nurse said something among the lines of “What do you do when you have no more tears?”  My answer to that at that exact moment was scream.  I screamed, I hit the steering wheel multiple times.

I hadn’t screamed in so long, since I was in middle school probably.  My screams were just heartbroken screams.  While I screamed I was teary eyed and while my throat felt like it was closing.  Those screams were nothing like the ones from middle school.

After thirty minutes I look to my right just to notice people are leaving because the service has ended.  After everyone has left I walk over to the casket and just talk.

“Do you remember the first time I met you?” I ask my dead fiance.

There’s no answer, I don’t need one.  I just go on about how we met at the high school.  How he planned to enlist, about how excited I was to get married.  When I’ve finished every single detail, trying to answer every question he asked me that I didn’t get to respond to.  Its finally time for me to say goodbye, and saying goodbye was the hardest part of all.  I tell him I love him, and go on talking again about how much I’ll miss him.  Three hours later I’m on my way home, my stomach feels like it’ll just fall out of my body.  Soon I’m overcome with exhaustion and can’t wait to get out of this black dress.  Once I get home I see my mother’s car waiting there and I can’t believe it.  My mother left when I was young and didn’t come back into my life until I was 17.  He was there for me that whole difficult time.  After age 18 she left again, but she’ll occasionally visit to come ask me for money.  He was always there to tell her no, to help me through everything.

“Hi!” She says happily, as if she’s not here to ask me for something.

“What the hell do you want?” I ask her angrily.

Black eyeliner and mascara are smeared across my pale face.  My black hair is down a little past my shoulders, its messy and wavy.

“What happened?” My birth mother asks me.

“Don’t act like you care, I asked you a question, I expect you to answer” I say hatefully.
“Well, I wanted to just see you and talk to yo-”

“No you don’t cut the crap!  I’m not giving you money or anything else!”  I yell back.

She rolls her eyes, “so selfish, you know I’m just trying to talk and you bring up money again!”

“The only reason why you’re here is to take the little money I have for yourself!” I scream, and throw one of my black heels at her.

Its a good shot, it hits her in the leg.

“Well I just need a little of money okay!” She screams.

“I’m not giving you any money,” I say with an angry scrunched up disgusted look on my face.   “My fiance died a week ago the funeral was today, and you come to ask me for money?  You disgust me, he was nice to you, he may not have given you money but he tried to help you.  He offered to help you in ways that could help you get money and you decided, hey I’ll just show up and take something else from my daughter!”

My mother shakes her head “I didn’t know he died but since he did, I mean I know this is so hard for you, you might just have some room in your heart for me and I heard he went into the military, so maybe, you’ll have some extra money as well” she stutters through the whole thing.

She obviously didn’t know he had passed away, but this is horrifying.  I walk closer to her to get in her face and tell her straight to leave.  The smell hit me, it was like running into a solid brick wall, it was just so strong.

“Have you been smoking?” I ask her.

She looks startled, “N-no of course not.”

“Mother, have you been smoking weed again?” I ask.

My mother left when I was eight to go do “great things” well she messed up.  She ended up being a part of a gang, became addicted to drugs and even became a drug dealer herself.  Well now ever since she found me again, she’s been lying to me.  Saying she quit ect.  How could she?  We paid for special treatment just because she seemed like she needed to quit.  Like she wanted to.  Well she quit for what, the two months she was there?

“Look don’t you judge me, saying I’m smokin-” She starts but stops because I’m running toward her bronze car.

I yank the car door open and it reeks of smoke.  I climb into the seat and pry the door open with my leg.  I stretch my neck so I can see the trunk, its covered by carpet.  Oh so she’s gotten somewhat smart now huh?  So I pull the carpet off and there is a little handle to pull up where she’s obviously hiding the drugs.