Believe

Chapter 4

The sickness was back: its familiar, hated weight settling itself on her chest, extinguishing her fragile hope. The beast howled like a ferocious wind during a winter storm. She was afraid and ashamed and breaking from the pain inside. Did anyone notice? Did anyone ever hear her cry?

Then the dreams started.

I sat on the couch watching a movie with my youngest sister, waiting for my mom to get home.

The minuets ticked by quickly as the clock chimed the hour. My brow furrowed. My mom should have been home by now.

The home phone began to ring as I vaulted off the couch.

"Hello?" My sister began to explain what had happened to my mom. My mom had gone to drop off my other two sisters at their babysitting job, but while there, she had slipped on ice and fell, injuring her leg. My sister reported that my mom and heard a crack and a pop come from her leg.

"Is she going to the hospital?" I asked. "Does she need me to drive her there?" She said she didn't know, so I said goodbye and instructed her to text me later about mom.

I then settled myself back on the couch and swept the hair off my little sister's forehead as I explained what had happened. She nodded and curled up next to me as her eyes returned to the movie dancing across the screen.

My stomach turned as the hours ticked by with no further news on my mom.

My phone then chimed and I scanned the message from my sister.

Uncle's here.

Is she going to the doctor?

I think so.

Ok.

They're coming home now.

Ok.

I set my phone down on my lap and hugged my sister to my side, waiting for my mom.

Our dog stirred and trotted to the door, tail whipping back and forth eagerly. I left the couch and my sister followed as our mom limped into the house, groaning and flinching with pain. My uncle and cousin followed close behind.

I shoved the dog away from my mom as she struggled to take her shoes off. She then trudged up the stairs and I followed.

"I need you to help me," she said. So I grabbed a pair of pajama pants and helped her into them.

"Are you going to the hospital?"

"Yes, uncle is going to take me. I need you to put Fluffy to bed." I nodded, a stubborn tear trickling down my cheek.

"Promise me you'll come back, mommy. Promise me!" I cried. She wrapped her arms around me and stroked my hair.

"I promise. They won't keep me like they did last time, okay?" I nodded.

We then went back downstairs. As she reached the bottom, tears began to trickle down my cheeks. I held my breath to try and stop the tears, because I didn't want to cry in front of my uncle and cousin, but the tears refused to listen.

The tears trickled steadily down my cheeks as my mom left, saying that my grandma would come later.

The next few hours blurred together. In desperation for comfort, I reached out to a friend, but when his words nor pictures of cats brought any relief from the pain, I laid down my phone in defeat. I allowed the tears to come thick and fast, sobbing like a child until I fell into a restless sleep.

The dream shifted to another time and another place, only one thing remaining constant: the never ending pain.

I sat quietly in the familiar yet completely alien room for provincial Honour Band that my friend and I were attending. Perched on the edge of my seat, I cradled my flute in my hands. I sighed softly.

This was supposed to be two days of celebrating how good I am at what I do, the one day where I can be proud of myself for my achievements, but I can't. I can't bring myself to be happy, and playing music was one of the few things left that was supposed to bring me genuine joy.

My thoughts snaked from my mind and perched on my shoulder, refusing to let me ignore them any longer.

They whispered, whispered, whispered with every fumble of my fingers and with every wrong note. My doubts about my worth grew louder and louder and louder. I squeezed my eyes shut in a vain effort to block out the voices inside. If anyone were to ask what was wrong, I would just pass it off as being tired. After all, I was tired. Just not in the way people think.

I would not ask for help or seek comfort, for I would not let my doubts and my insecurities ruin his happiness, for his happiness would always come before my own.

I remained silent and let the thoughts continue to whisper in my ear as I placed a smile on my face for the world to see. I told myself that his happiness was more important than my own, for I would not dull the sparkle in his eyes to gain comfort for myself.

Once or twice I thought about being selfish and reaching out to ease the pain, to let someone else help me shoulder the pain, but I always stopped myself just before I could. I'm strong enough to carry this on my own, aren't I? I could do this all on my own, all while preserving his happiness.

And besides, his silence was another reason I felt I wasn't good enough. If he noticed my pain, he chose to not say anything. I'm not a great actress, there's no way I was hiding it that well. He had to see it. Why didn't he notice?

Their silence; his silence, hurts more than I could ever say. Why wouldn't anyone say something?
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Tempest awoke with a start, tears coursing down her face. Her pillow was soaked from the tears that had fallen in her sleep.

"It hurts!" she moaned. But of course, no one answered, for she was alone.

The tears poured down her face as she shot from her tangled mound of sheets and ran to the door.

Her bare feet slapped against the hard packed sand as sprinted away from the cabin, away from the nightmares, away from the sorrow.

She stumbled to the top of her cliff and stared out over the waters. The tears rolled down her face in time with her beating heart and the pounding waves of the ocean.

"Does it hurt to die?" she whispered hopelessly to the waves. The wind scooped up her words and scattered them across the ocean.

She didn't want to do this anymore. It hurt too much. What was the point in going on if nothing made it better? Why continue on when nobody says anything to dull the pain? Why keep going if there was no one there to shoulder the pain? Why go on at all? She closed her eyes and sank to her knees as the thoughts caught up to her, dancing across the darkness of her closed lids.

She was drowning in her own tears, alone and forgotten. No one noticed. No one.

Her panicked eyes looked around the different scenes playing before her. Youth group, school, home. No one saw, no one noticed as she died slowly.

Her eyes begged for help; pleading, searching. No one saw. She knew they cared, but she was alone. Alone now, alone forever. No one had time for the broken girl trying to put herself back together. She didn't want to be a burden. She didn't want to be a problem.

How could they not see the cracks in her defenses? The tears in her eyes? How could they not see utter hopelessness when it stared them in the face?

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," she whispered mournfully.