Losing It

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

After losing her boyfriend in a car crash, a young girl finds herself barely holding onto her sanity.

I'm losing it. I'm completely losing it. He's here. He's standing right here, right in front of me. I reach out to touch him, but my hand only grasps air. Where did he go? Why can I not touch him? He's right there, but he's not. Oh, I miss him so much. I miss his voice, his warm breath as he whispered in my ear. I miss his touch, so soft and gentle despite his intimidating presence. I long for him to hold my hand in his, for him to squeeze it and tell me that everything is going to be okay just one more time.

The day they put him in the ground, I waited for a sign that he was still here. I waited in the rain as the dirt became the only thing separating him from me. Salty tears flooded my face as I lost something that could never be replaced. But, as I laid there, my tears being over thrown from the pelting rain, I heard his voice. He told me not to cry, he said it was not worth it. He placed a loving hand upon my face and wiped away my tears, saying that he loved me even then.

Now, he stands in the corner of my white walled room. He wears the tattered clothes the first aid workers found him in. They are blood covered, torn, and reveal the worst of the accident. A gash on his head is not sewn shut like at the funeral, it bleeds perfusively and drips down his bruised cheek. There are two marks on his chest, square and perfect, from the electric shocks. He is missing a shoe, I think I remember finding it under the car.

He takes a hesitant step forward, his eyes searching for something. He stares, his head cocked slightly to the right. He mouths my name, perhaps not recognizing me. "I'm right here!" I shout, reaching out to him, hoping he will take my hand. But he doesn't...Instead he looks at me like a stranger. My bottom lip quivers and I cry out again. "I'm right here!"

This time he reaches back and I feel his hand against mine for just a few brief seconds. His touch is ice cold, unusual for his typically warm flesh. I feel a butterfly soft breeze against my cheek and I know that he is kissing me. He does not like when I cry. When I look up though, he is gone.

Why did he leave? He always leaves me! He left me here all alone to live without him by my side! He left me in this horrible place to be tortured by doctors who just do not understand. I am stuck here, without my other half, left to explain myself to nurses who do not see eye to eye. I am lost in this world without him, cursed with nightmares and a soul without a purpose.

I once thought it'd be best to die, to join him in that beautiful place. I tried to do just that. I sat besides that tombstone for 48 hours straight, no food, no water, just my brain going wild inside my head. Slowly I could feel myself entering into that precious state, but as I finally saw freedom, I was oppressed once more. There were the sounds of sirens and the smell of rubber against pavement. I prayed to die, for God to let me be with him; but instead I was placed onto a stretcher and wheeled into an ambulance against my will.

I screamed, "Let me be! Let me be!" but it was no use. There was a sharp jab in my arm and my eyes got heavy. I reached my hand out for him to take, but it was strapped down and secured, there'd be no escaping. "Let me be..." I mumble before my eyes close and I lose consciousness.

When I woke up, I was here, in the white room. And this is where I've been. It's white, no ounce of color inhabits it. I'm starting to forget what colors are. All I see is white. I squeeze my eyes together, trying my best to remember the color blue. What is blue? The ocean is blue, the sky is blue, my favorite shirt was blue. Yeah, my favorite shirt with the sequins on the shoulders, I remember now. Maybe the nurse can bring me it, I'll say it will make me feel better. It would be nice to have something pretty in this room. The white paint becomes so dull and lifeless, it makes it hard to think positive.

There's a small calendar on the wall, it has been fifteen days since the accident. Fifteen days since I lost him. That's fifteen days I shouldn't have been alive. Everyone knows it. He died and I lived, nobody knows how. The car flipped, not once or twice, but five times. Blood seeped out of the car, creating a puddle of pure red beneath the twisted metal. I saw his body, lying limp and silent in the seat next to mine. His chest was crushed against the steering wheel, his head bled from the temple. I tried so hard to free him, but I couldn't get the wheel to budge. He coughed and it gave me hope, but soon after the breathing officially stopped.

I screamed so loud my lungs ached. My eyes stung as tears fell freely down my face and my arms were tired from fighting with the wheel. Broken glass had found its way into my right arm and shoulder and they hurt terribly, but all I cared about was him. I couldn't lose him. I just couldn't. I screamed louder and louder, praying to God for help, but he failed to listen. In a desperate attempt to save him, I unbuckled my seatbelt, letting my body fall against his. I slapped his face and shook his shoulders, waiting for a response. But I received none.

It took the ambulance twenty minutes to arrive at the accident, at least that's what I'm told. It seemed so much longer. I remember the jaws of life cutting through the door, the glass shattering around me, and I hugged his lifeless body tighter. The medics had to tear me off of him. I refused to let go. The second they placed that white sheet on his body I went crazy. He was not dead. He could not be dead! I thrashed against the wires the medics had attached to me and managed to break free from the tangled mess. I threw myself at him, removing the sheet and begging for him to wake up.

"Wake up! Wake up!" I screamed as I pressed hard on his chest trying to find a heart beat. "Wake up!" Blood covered my hands and face, my mind slowly becoming mush. This couldn't be happening. I wipe the blood away from my eyes and see the man driving the truck being escorted to an ambulance. His eyes were bloodshot and even from a distance the smell of alcohol burned my nose. He glanced over at the white sheet and just looked away without the slightest bit of guilt.

"You monster!" I cried, lurching for the man; but a medic grabbed my arm in restraint. "You murderer! Murderer! You killed him!" I continue to scream as the medic forces me into the ambulance and shuts the door.

My body shakes with the memory. At just eighteen I was faced with the worst situation possible. Instead of being greeted with comforting hugs and smiles, I was sent here to grieve in silence and solitude with no shoulder to cry on. And they wonder why I'm unstable.

I stare at the white walls, wondering if he'll come back. I need him, but he doesn't need me. Not anymore at least. I lay on my bed, the white blankets and pillows sprawled out around me. They give me a headache. Burying my face into one of the pillows, I scream. I scream until I can't scream any more. My brain vibrates against my skull and I feel like its about to explode, but I keep going. I'm so sick to my stomach. It ties itself into a knot and pulls tight, causing me to crawl into a fetal position. I'm losing it!

I throw the pillow to the floor and scream at the top of my lungs. My nails press against my skin until they break through the flesh. The blood drips down my arms and I continue to scream, not caring who is listening. I place my hands over my ears, the blood flowing into my hair, and scream once more. "Come back now! Right now!"

I pull at my hair, at my clothes, at the sheets, and the pillow cases. There's a monster inside of me, I can feel it. It wants out, it's trying to get out. My nails slide across the walls, chipping the white paint off and revealing a bright red. Finally a little color. I scratch at my face with a nervous twitch, causing my cheek to bleed uncontrollably. "Color, it's color," I cry, letting the tears burn my open wound. I'm going crazy, that monster is going to break out. "Help!"

The sealed door is pushed open and in rushes a beautiful nurse wearing a pretty pink. She pushes my hands away from my face and onto the bed and I scream out, "Help me, Bently. Help me!" I thrash against the nurses hands, the monster inside pulling at my limbs. "Bently!"

"Calm down, honey. It's going to be okay," says the pretty nurse with a twinkling voice to match. This beauty is not meant to be in my dreary world.

He's there again. He's putting his hand on my cheek. He's wiping away the blood. His skin is cold. So cold. His eyes are dark, darker than I remembered. He puts his finger to his lips and makes a hushing sound. My body stops thrashing, the nurse breathing a sigh of relief.

I stare into his eyes, silently telling me to stay still or he will leave. He smiles, and I return the grin. He makes a heart with his hands, something he's always done to cheer me up, and a tear escapes my eyes. He takes my hand in his and holds it, as my eyelids become heavy. "Don't leave," I whisper before my eyes close, but I can still feel the pressure of my hand in his...

***

I wake up to a white room with bright lights. It smells of rubbing alcohol and bleach and there's a slight humming sound coming from my right. I open my eyes a little wider and try to sit up. There's a pain in my back, but I manage just enough to see what's beside me. There's an IV in my wrist and an EKG, the source of the humming. Rain pelts the small window to my left, leaving streaks of water down the glass; but sunlight still pours through.

Also to my left is Bently, his tousled mess of hair spread across the bed and his hand clasped onto mine. My hand twitches and he jolts awake. His blue eyes sparkle like the ocean and his blonde hair only the slightest bit out of place. There's a line of fresh stitches on his cheek, stretching from the corner of his mouth to his temple. I reach out and touch this imperfection, but stop when he winces from the sensation. I place my hand on his heart and feel the beating of his heart, it's beautiful.

I look in the mirror positioned on the wall in front of me and notice the identical cut on forehead, stitched to hide the wound. There's also a bruise peeking out of my hospital gown, it's dark purple ring shadowing my collar bone. My arms are covered in little gashes, where shattered glass once punctured. I notice that Bently's arms look the same.

"What happened?" I ask Bently, although I know the answer.

"A miracle." He says, pulling me into his arms and hugging me close to his chest. "An absolute miracle."


Submitted: December 08, 2013

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