Good For Gone

First Breath

I only slept for a few uncomfortable hours in the midmorning before being forced awake by my own brain.

I made myself an elaborate breakfast in hopes that it would make me feel better. On the side was a cocktail of ibuprofen and coffee in a desperate attempt to make kill my headache.

I curled up in my bed with my pancakes, bacon, and eggs. My laptop played a few episodes of my favorite sitcom as I stuffed my face hopefully.

But to my dismay everything just curled up into a knot in my stomach and made the feeling worse.

I set all the plates on the floor and sat back, resting the computer on my rounded tummy.

The feeling left behind from the meal had me uncomfortable and I couldn't find a good position to lay in so I got up and began cleaning while the show played in the background.

Usually, as much as I hate cleaning, having a clean room made me feel more relaxed. So I figured it was worth a try. My room had recently descended into a pile of dirty clothes and food wrappers.

I shoved the clothes into my hamper and beat them down so that it didn't look like it was over flowing. After that was done all the trash was shoved into a garbage bag, which was then shoved into the bigger one in the kitchen.

Then after I made my bed I laid back down, feeling surprisingly more relaxed, but not enough to keep all the bad thoughts away.

I couldn't tell dad, he would worry and I couldn't stand the idea of him thinking it was his fault. Callie was out of the question because, bless her, she wouldn't understand and I doubted she would try very hard to change that.

Mom would just brush me off, and Cameron would tell everybody and their mother I was a hair away from killing myself.

Besides those people all I had were a handful of exes from short term relationships and a few acquaintances that had immediately fallen off the face of the earth after graduation. So I was stuck.

It was then that I was struck with an idea. A completely demented idea mind you, but an idea none the less.

I shot up, changing out of my sweat soaked shirt and sliding on some flip flops.

I was lucky the neighbors spent most of their time indoors, keeping me from the awkward scenario of explanation of my fascination with the house.

I slid in the door to the same old shack and the same old body. It was scary that I'd grown so immune to the macabre nature of the situation.

I was all the way into the house before I noticed it. The smell. Or lack thereof. I mean it's an old building, so it still smelled musty. But there was no rotting smell at all.

It struck me as odd, but it wasn't the reason I was there. I walked into the kitchen, that same familiar face smiling into oblivion.

I leaned against the opposite wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the grimy tiles.

"I don't think anybody's ever liked me that much." I said into the empty silence, "I've always felt kind of alone, but now that I'm out of school and everyone's moving on, I just feel so lonely." I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as I continued to word vomit, "And now I feel like nobody ever cared about me at all. People only really talked to me because I was always with Callie, and she would make them. But she has this whole new life, and I don't think anyone will care about me on my own."

I tucked my head between my knees, sniffling and rocking back on my heels. The sadness I pushed down came welling back up violently.

I squeezed my eyes shut but that didn't keep the tears from brimming in the corner of my eyes.

And as a tear streamed down my cheek, I nearly missed the small gasp from across the room.