Uncertain

30-Memory

If someone would've told me few years back that I would be the person I was now, I would've cried.

My life had always been a mess, but few years ago I still wanted to be alive. I wanted to breathe, I wanted to live in this world. The sixteen-year-old Delilah couldn't say the same thing anymore.

If someone had told me in the early June that I would be the person I was by the end of the summer, I would've cried.

I wanted to feel like someone else, and in the early August no one was able to see the old Delilah in my eyes anymore. That ginger girl with so many problems was still somewhere inside me, but I tried to forget her, I tried to forget myself, I tried to forget about everything and everyone, and because of that I had to change.

I was sick of being ill, so I got myself my hair back. I bought a wig. I wasn't a ginger head anymore, my hair was now dark brown, and to be honest, I liked it. I also threw my converses away, the shoes I had worn everyday ever since I remember, and it was a good decision. I never ever touched any of the instruments I had used to play, and I even hated strawberry ice cream.

At least that's what I said to myself.

The thing was that, not like I had imagined, I wasn't any happier than I was before, the problems were still stuck inside me, and I still cried myself to sleep every single night. Those stupid things I did to make myself forget, they didn't work, because I couldn't forget, I couldn't look myself through the mirror and say that everything was fine, because the problems didn't go anywhere, the trauma didn't go anywhere. I couldn't get rid of that person.

When Angel died, a month ago, I was almost certain that I wouldn't get a chance to go to her funeral. I didn't even know if I wanted to. But when I was holding the paper invitation, and recognized the messy handwriting of Aaron, going to that funeral wasn't a question anymore.

So, that's why, on that rainy Saturday, I was looking at my reflection with the black dress through my mirror. I didn't have any makeup on, because I knew that whatever it was and how waterproof the products were, there wouldn't be any of that left on my face. My hair, well my wig, was on a tight low ponytail, and golden earrings were covering my ears.

There was always a stained tear on my cheek, whatever the time was or wherever I was, and it was kind of funny how it was like a tattoo on my cheek. When I tried to wipe it away, another tear dropped from my eye on its place.

'It should've been me', that's what I kept reminding myself every day. Angel wanted to live, she had so much and so many things to do on this planet, I didn't. Whenever I tried to look up, someone pressed my head back down. How I wished that I could still change places with her.

"Lil, you ready?" Aiden's figure appeared to my door.

All seven of my brothers were invited to the funeral too.

That made me, at least a part of me, relieved. I had been pushing them away too, but they were still the only ones keeping me on this planet. The seven, god damn annoying, Miller brothers were the barrier between the ground and heaven. Without them, I would be in the heaven, I would've been there for a while already.

"You okay?"

I turned my gaze from the mirror to my brother, and a blank look filled my face.
"Yes."

It was the answer to the first question, I was ready, but I wasn't okay.

"What happened to your room?" Aiden's eyes moved around my chaotic room before he walked inside. "Jesus Lil."

He grabbed an empty can of energy drink from my desk, his eyes falling to my bedside table where were at least five more of them. Then he looked at the mirror I was staring, his eyes following the flaws on it. A confused look appeared on his face, when he realized that in fact every single mirror inside my room were shattered.