I have never really noticed her before, but I do now. Her green eyes are wide as she looks around the room, her breathing is heavy, and she looks kind of scared. She focuses for a few seconds on the girl beside her, then her head flies in the opposite. Long raven black hair almost whips me in the face, and I am struck with a sudden pang of jealousy. Compared to my thin white blond wispy hair, and super light blue eyes she is like a goddess, everything I have ever wanted to be.
The classes voices rise in crescendos forcing the teacher to try and take control of us again, but I barely notice as I log into my now turned computer and begin to play Assassination! The seconds tick by on the clock, going faster now that I am so engrossed. The last minute of class comes and distantly I hear the teacher call out, “Violet, tell me the answer.” The room goes dead silent and I notice that, but pretend I don’t as I continue to play the game. The girl behind me, the one I was looking at early does not answer. The silence grows so it practically roars in my ears, mercifully the bell rings and I bolt out of the heavy awkward blanket that had blanketed the classroom just seconds prior.
I head to my locker packing my bags, as that was the last class of the day. Shouldering my backpack, I began to leave school, preparing for the two mile walk home. I should have had a ride home, I should have a ride home for the last year but my family was ‘dysfunctional’ according to the shrink my mother forced me into every week, but really it wasn’t my family that was dysfunctional it was my mother. Ever since last year, August Friday the thirteenth.
The news had came moments before dinner, me and mom where just sitting down. Another night just us two, as there has been an emergency call at the fire station, and my father had raced out the door barely an hour ago. A sharp knock sounded through the apartment, both mom and I froze, each of us knowing what that meant, but hoping it wasn’t true. A minute passed and we stared at each other in complete silence and horror, and then the second knock sounded breaking us out of our reverie. Mother told me to stay there, and went to answer the door, sure enough we were right. Dad was dead. I didn’t even have to ask her, she came back crying, I just ran into my room and the shut the door. I didn’t come out for quite a while. After that I never saw my mom cry again, she threw herself into the business she had just opened up, forgetting anything that had to do with my father, and that included me.
The sidewalk stretched out in front of me, a endless concrete path of boredom, the gray only breaking in the spot where Violet walked ahead of me. She looked lonely, just like me, and I was hungry for any sort of company that didn’t know me well enough to give me that Look. “Violet come walk with me,” I called out. I think she is coming to walk beside me, and I am filled with hope that perhaps I can have a normal friend, one to giggle and talk to late at night, one that won’t guard what they say in front of me, and shoot me those pitying looks, the Look. My hopes are shot down as she turns her head and smiles at me walking up a driveway that leads to a house, her house.
Finally done with the long walk home I entered our apartment building, riding the elevator to the top floor and entering our apartment, number 666. Heaving the door open, “I’m home!” I yelled, and as always there was no answer. I don’t even know why I do that anymore, maybe it’s just comforting or a habit I don’t know. I brought my backpack to room and then ventured to the fridge to get something to eat. Opening the fridge I start to think about what leftover restaurant food, I will be eating tonight, but apparently none because the fridge is empty. This unsurprisingly happens a lot, considering the fact that my mother is always on some sort of business dinner at this time. Sighing I went back to my room, to start my homework, just another lonely hungry night at ‘home’.
The school day passed quickly with me seeing very little of Violet, much to my disappointment. My shoulders where slumped in defeat as I gathered my things to prepare for the long walk home. On the bright side I didn’t have much homework so my backpack was light, bumping against my shoulder’s as I walked, about halfway through the walk home I was joined by Violet. This filled me with hope that maybe this friendship was possible, there was another feeling too, one I recognized, but couldn’t quite place. The feeling I realized was happiness, something I haven’t felt in a long time. We walked in a comfortable silence lost in our own thoughts, I looked up, surprised to see an elderly friend of mine. Her name was Ms.Merill, she ran the tiny antique book shop that marked the halfway point of my walk to and from school. I remember the first time I had walked in there, not wanting to go home, she had seen me come in and started to talk to me about her books. Eventually she brought me into the back and offered me some cookies. Since then we had made a tradition of me going over there for cookies and to listen to some story about her past or her ancestor’s, that was my favorite time of the week. I quickened my pace to catch up with her, and Violet did the same.
“Oh Hello, how are this fine fine day lovely Rosa, are you coming by on Friday?” She said surprised.
I grinned at her, “like always Ms.Merrill.” Just then I tripped, launching myself on to my dear friend, I looked over to warn to get out of the way, but she was already gone. I looked in the street, there she lay, dead. I gasped, guilt washing over me, it was my fault she was dead I had tripped, and now she was dead. I wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but I couldn’t, could barely get words out of my mouth, but I managed, “I- oh my gosh- I”. Sitting down hard on the sidewalk, looking down at my hands, they were covered in blood, hers. I whimpered and started trying to wipe it off on my pants, it didn’t come off. Gone was my chance at a happy life, the woman whom I could have called mother, who could have given me a home again was gone and by my own hands.
A hand suddenly grabbed the back of my shirt, “ come on Rose , you couldn’t help falling into her,” Violet said as she hauled me to my feet, “Come on we should really get you home.”
I don’t remember the rest of the walk home, I was just suddenly there. My brain kept turning in circles in itself, she’s dead and it’s my fault, she’s dead my fault my fault my fault... I was snapped back to reality by Violet calling my name, “Rose, Rose! What apartment do you live in?”
I flinched at the sound of her voice scared that just by looking at her or talking to her I might kill her too. “666,” I managed to choke out. I can barely walk, I have to keep reminding myself left in front of right, right in front of left. All I want to do is to curl up in a ball and just stay there, allow the rest of the world to go on without me, they’d be better off without me anyway. Violet is dragging me to the elevator and up to my floor, the whole time I am whimpering, wanting to cry but not being able to. The elevators cheerful ding makes me want to scream and throw up at the same time, before I know it Violet is dragging me down the red hallway. Red, blood, crying out I pull away from Violet trying to get away from the red, the blood, the guilt. Tripping I fall to the floor in a heap, breathing hard, I feel gentle hands pulling me up back to a standing position. She props me against her, so I am leaning into her, and Violet’s arm is around me. This is what I true friend is like, and I realize I have just made one. This comforts yet scares me at the same time, I am glad to have someone to lean on, but my last true friend is lying dead in a pool of her own blood because of me.
We have now made it to my apartment, Violet shoves the door open leading me down the hallway. I allow her to, like a dumb dog, I have no energy to help her find my room as she peeks into each room. My listless body is practically dragged behind her, she finally enters the room that is mine. It’s purple and black theme is comfortingly familiar so are the clothes strewn across the floor and the cracked open closet. I feel myself being shoved into the room and I stare dully at the wall, my mind wandering in nothingness.
The slamming of the door wakes me up and I look up at Violet who was in the process of locking the door. “Violet is everything okay?” my voice is shaking making my fear evident.
“Everything soon will be,” she says to me softly. There is an edge to her voice, one that I don’t recognize, it is cold filled with cruelty and oddly enough righteousness. Her voice, her real voice opens the dam that has kept me from tears this past year and flow out of my eyes scalding my cheeks. She walks to me, stroking my hair making me shiver with the fear that is gradually turning into terror. Her hands trace down my hair stopping at my neck, they enclose around my neck and slowly begin to tighten. My pulse quickens and I begin to squirm as I remember something about my dad. He had been a fan of Dylan Thomas, especially the poem Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, he had always told me to fight death, to put it off for as long as possible. So I struggle I do as he tells me, I plead with my eyes as black spots dance before them. Her face twists into a smile, she looks as if she is finally delivering justice, and I realize this battle is a losing one. Sorry Daddy I can’t fight the inevitable anymore, these are my last thoughts before the world that has wronged me so many times, the one that I would rather stay with fades from me as everything turns black.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
~Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
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