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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 06/15/2013
Never Gonna Be Alone
Born 1996, F, from California, United StatesNever Gonna Be Alone
I stared at her picture where it laid face down on the kitchen floor, glancing at it momentarily before grabbing the knife again and grasping it firmly in my hand. I knew it would hurt at first but once the warm, sweet liquid started trickling down my arm, all the pain would subside. Knowing this only because every time I cut myself it was the same experience as the last time I did it, exactly one year ago, the anniversary of the incident, my birthday.
It was my third birthday, my parents got in a fight because my Dad cancelled my party without telling my Mom. They started arguing and... everything just went downhill from there. My Dad was scared to death when my Mom threatened to leave him and take me with her, he always did have an anger problem but no one knew he was capable of what he did next...
I can still hear those gunshots as she gripped her chest, as I watched from behind the couch, scared to death to the point that I can hardly breathe. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom! Four shots to the head and one to the heart and my world as I knew it was over.
I remember hiding, and my Dad coming and looking for me. I hid behind the couch and stayed as still and quiet as possible, I didn't move a muscle until I heard the police sirens and a group of men asking where I was. I held my breath when a man peered behind the couch and saw me. Luckily it wasn't my Dad. Little did I know that man who saved my life would become my future adopted Dad.
I told them everything I saw since I was the only witness, and two months later my Dad was sentenced to life in prison. That was fourteen years ago. Now that I'm seventeen I've moved on from depression to anger. I get so mad when I think about the life I could have had, the life she could have had, and how he ripped it away from us both. I try to go out to at least four parties a week. Guys, alcohol, drugs, sex, whatever I can do to keep my mind off of things and make the pain go away, I've tried at least once. It doesn't surprise me that alcohol and sex usually get my mind off of everything almost instantly.
I'm just about to slice away my pain when an even better idea hits me, I've considered this option before but could never actually go through with it. But fourteen years is too long, not only am I under an extreme amount of pressure at school with friends, homework, tests, grades, essays, and my now ex boyfriend, Gregory. I also have to spend another birthday alone simply because no one cares. How long is a person supposed to suffer before they go absolutely mad and just decide to end it all?
Weird, that's probably the best idea I've had all day, ending it. Cutting myself permanently from the world, at least that way I would see my Mom again. I mean, I don't know if there really is a place like heaven but I hope there is, because if not, I would have killed myself for nothing.
So I sit on my kitchen floor and think about how I should do it. After hours of sitting and thinking I decide to walk down to the river to the tree where I used to play when I was little. Where I played my first game of hide and go seek, my first game of truth or dare, my first kiss, my first fight with Gregory, and where my Mama is buried. I sit against the trunk of the tree by the tombstone and look down into the water, my reflection staring back at me.
When I look at myself I see my Mother, her blond curls framing her face, her thick red lips, icy blue eyes. I'm like her clone...
I lay next to her tombstone for a while and just close my eyes to think. But when I close my eyes it's impossible to concentrate at the task at hand. Instead I see myself sitting under this very tree, wearing a cotton sundress and my dusty old cowboy boots just like I am now, my blond curls bouncing with my every step I take. I remember this day, remember it like it was yesterday. I'm two years old again, my Mom surprised me by setting up a picnic and tea party for us at our favorite spot at our favorite tree by the river.
I laugh when she picks me up and spins me around, tickling me when she puts me back down. A tear rolls down my cheek as I open my eyes and glance down at the knife that I'm holding so tight that my knuckles turn a ghostly white. Another tear rolls down my face as a sharp pain surges through my chest and I close my eyes.
When I open them again I see my Mother, she's standing with her arms open wide outside of a large gold gate. I run into them and feel her warm embrace, I have no idea what to say so I just close my eyes and smile because neither of us have to go through any more pain. When I look up at the woman that I'm hugging, I realize that she's not my Mother at all, instead she's a beautiful woman with thick black hair covered by a blanket-like cloth and bright blue eyes that highlight her high cheekbones perfectly.
But this woman isn't a stranger, I know I've seen her somewhere before. I know I've seen her in a picture somewhere...at my Grandma's house, Grandma has a picture of this woman next to the picture of my Mama. I look up to the woman again with confusion. “What's your name?” I ask.
She looks down to me with such compassion and love in her eyes that for a split second I think she really is my Mom, but I know better. She smiles and caresses my cheek with her fingertips, whispering softly. “My name is Mary, but you may call me your Mother...my son and I have been waiting for you.” She smiled again. “Welcome home.”
Never Gonna Be Alone(Taylor Menezes)
Never Gonna Be Alone
I stared at her picture where it laid face down on the kitchen floor, glancing at it momentarily before grabbing the knife again and grasping it firmly in my hand. I knew it would hurt at first but once the warm, sweet liquid started trickling down my arm, all the pain would subside. Knowing this only because every time I cut myself it was the same experience as the last time I did it, exactly one year ago, the anniversary of the incident, my birthday.
It was my third birthday, my parents got in a fight because my Dad cancelled my party without telling my Mom. They started arguing and... everything just went downhill from there. My Dad was scared to death when my Mom threatened to leave him and take me with her, he always did have an anger problem but no one knew he was capable of what he did next...
I can still hear those gunshots as she gripped her chest, as I watched from behind the couch, scared to death to the point that I can hardly breathe. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom! Four shots to the head and one to the heart and my world as I knew it was over.
I remember hiding, and my Dad coming and looking for me. I hid behind the couch and stayed as still and quiet as possible, I didn't move a muscle until I heard the police sirens and a group of men asking where I was. I held my breath when a man peered behind the couch and saw me. Luckily it wasn't my Dad. Little did I know that man who saved my life would become my future adopted Dad.
I told them everything I saw since I was the only witness, and two months later my Dad was sentenced to life in prison. That was fourteen years ago. Now that I'm seventeen I've moved on from depression to anger. I get so mad when I think about the life I could have had, the life she could have had, and how he ripped it away from us both. I try to go out to at least four parties a week. Guys, alcohol, drugs, sex, whatever I can do to keep my mind off of things and make the pain go away, I've tried at least once. It doesn't surprise me that alcohol and sex usually get my mind off of everything almost instantly.
I'm just about to slice away my pain when an even better idea hits me, I've considered this option before but could never actually go through with it. But fourteen years is too long, not only am I under an extreme amount of pressure at school with friends, homework, tests, grades, essays, and my now ex boyfriend, Gregory. I also have to spend another birthday alone simply because no one cares. How long is a person supposed to suffer before they go absolutely mad and just decide to end it all?
Weird, that's probably the best idea I've had all day, ending it. Cutting myself permanently from the world, at least that way I would see my Mom again. I mean, I don't know if there really is a place like heaven but I hope there is, because if not, I would have killed myself for nothing.
So I sit on my kitchen floor and think about how I should do it. After hours of sitting and thinking I decide to walk down to the river to the tree where I used to play when I was little. Where I played my first game of hide and go seek, my first game of truth or dare, my first kiss, my first fight with Gregory, and where my Mama is buried. I sit against the trunk of the tree by the tombstone and look down into the water, my reflection staring back at me.
When I look at myself I see my Mother, her blond curls framing her face, her thick red lips, icy blue eyes. I'm like her clone...
I lay next to her tombstone for a while and just close my eyes to think. But when I close my eyes it's impossible to concentrate at the task at hand. Instead I see myself sitting under this very tree, wearing a cotton sundress and my dusty old cowboy boots just like I am now, my blond curls bouncing with my every step I take. I remember this day, remember it like it was yesterday. I'm two years old again, my Mom surprised me by setting up a picnic and tea party for us at our favorite spot at our favorite tree by the river.
I laugh when she picks me up and spins me around, tickling me when she puts me back down. A tear rolls down my cheek as I open my eyes and glance down at the knife that I'm holding so tight that my knuckles turn a ghostly white. Another tear rolls down my face as a sharp pain surges through my chest and I close my eyes.
When I open them again I see my Mother, she's standing with her arms open wide outside of a large gold gate. I run into them and feel her warm embrace, I have no idea what to say so I just close my eyes and smile because neither of us have to go through any more pain. When I look up at the woman that I'm hugging, I realize that she's not my Mother at all, instead she's a beautiful woman with thick black hair covered by a blanket-like cloth and bright blue eyes that highlight her high cheekbones perfectly.
But this woman isn't a stranger, I know I've seen her somewhere before. I know I've seen her in a picture somewhere...at my Grandma's house, Grandma has a picture of this woman next to the picture of my Mama. I look up to the woman again with confusion. “What's your name?” I ask.
She looks down to me with such compassion and love in her eyes that for a split second I think she really is my Mom, but I know better. She smiles and caresses my cheek with her fingertips, whispering softly. “My name is Mary, but you may call me your Mother...my son and I have been waiting for you.” She smiled again. “Welcome home.”
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