Life's a Gem

4.C Falling Sensations

I go to my room, putting the chair from the desk under the door knob.

I like the sense of protection, even if it's false.

I take off my shirt and drop it on the floor. It's surprising to know that Henry didn't ask about my cuts. I guess he truly doesn't care about me.

What ever, it's not like most people do anyways; I sure don't.

I walk to the bed, collapsing on it as it squeaks in delight. My bare skin rubs against the covers as I struggle to make my way under them. My white ceiling says hello and goodnight to me. My eyelids causes the world to go black.

Black, black, black, and then, color.

I sit on Sam's bed. She stands in front of me, slowly lifting up her shirt.

Her stomach is lined with scabs and cuts. Some look like circular burns, while some look like linear slices.

"And you do this to yourself?"

She doesn't speak, she just stares at me, shirt lifted up and all.

"Sam," I get up, "Sam, darling, please don't."

I try to hug her, but her body fades away to dust, creating a pile of debris on the floor.

The room melts away, creating a scene of white around me. I cannot tell which way is up, straight, down, or sideways. The room swarms with colors and movement; it transforms itself into another room.

Pop music plays in the background as people are chatting amongst the rustle of plates and silverware.

"Order up! An Atlas Burger for Peter!"

The crowd cheers as a waitress brings the burger to a table housing me, Sam, Mom, and Dad. The burger sits in front of him and gives him a seductive look, begging to be eaten. His brown hair is exactly like mine; his gray eyes look at me and laugh.

"Max, can you believe the size of this? Do ya think your dad can eat this?"

My dad laughs as he grabs the burger.

The burger is about six inches tall, has a pound of beef, an extra large bun, ketchup, onions, pickles, four slices of cheese, lettuce, mayonnaise, and a side of fries. The bottom half of the burger struggles to hold its own weight. Hence, the name "Atlas Burger" was given to it.

My dad bites into it; the crowd cheers and Sam pats my back.

"Dad sure does make us proud, don't he?" My dad is like her dad; our eight year old brains are completely mesmerized by him.

The crowd laughs. They all laugh, even I laugh.

They slowly swirl away and the white room appears around me again. Once again, the colors come back and swirl to form a memory.

We're in a car, just my mom and I.

I'm in the passenger's seat and my mom is driving away from the school that she just picked me up from.

"Mama, why'd you pick me up?"

She looks at me, then quickly looks at the road, "Oh, uh, we have to go home."

"Is it because I pulled Tiffany's hair? I said I was sorry."

She forces out a laugh, "No, no that isn't it. No, uh, we just have to go home now, okay?"

She looks to her left as if to look in her driver's mirror.

She softly cries as she makes a left turn.