Jesse

Memory: 6

………

            I am standing in the dark. At first I don't know where I am. Am I trapped again? Am I locked away in the closet once more?

            Am I dead?

            No. There are voices. So many voices. And smells. Overpowering flowers. Stifling cologne. All of it nauseating.

            I open my eyes. I want to gasp. I want to scream. I want run.

            It’s too much to take in…

            This is the last place I want to be. But I can do nothing about it. I'm here. But it's exactly three years ago. I'm in the funeral home.

            Standing. Watching people pass by. Shaking my heads. Showing how sad, and depressed they were for my loss.

            They know nothing.

            All of it meaningless. Fucking meaningless.

            They didn't feel that emptiness beyond emptiness—the screaming torture beyond screaming torture that had clawed through my stomach and my throat, shrieking to get out when I had found her there, dead on the kitchen floor. They weren’t there that first night I spent alone. Weeping. When Dad first hit me. Cussed at me, for just breathing.

            They know nothing. Nothing! Fucking nothing!

            It is like I'm watching one of those old movies, like in a sepia tone: frozen in time. It is the past. My past. Something I'll never escape from. Myself.

            I just stare. Numbly.

            Did this really happen? Is she really dead?

            We’ll never understand this. Not ever. Death. We can’t ever truly get our heads around it. When someone is there one second, a body and nothing more the next. Hollow dead eyes staring at you that were once filled with life. Gone…Just gone…

            I don't even speak. Not even a thank you.

            I'm barely there. Everything in me gutted out.

            I can't look at her. Or I'll have nightmares again.

            I’m tired of nightmares. It’s not normal how many times I have them. Suffer them. It’s not. I’m scared.

            When I do: she looks peaceful. Like an angel sleeping. I love her. I want her alive. I want her to hold me. Tell me things are going to be alright. Everything's going to be okay.

            I want her to save me from this. All of this.

            But she can't. I realize:

            I'm the only one that can save myself…or…destroy myself.

            There is still so much I want to tell her. That I want her to know. Now she will never know. I have two options.

            I see them before me now.

            Live. Somehow. Carry on living. Move on with my life. What you call this life. Mine. This struggle each day, hoping it'll get easier.

            Or …let the darkness take me.

            The light dims. Suddenly, I don't want to leave. I want to stay! I want to stay! Bring her back! Bring her back! MOM! MOM!!! Don't leave me! I tear my fingers into the green carpet, crying aloud, feeling tears burn down my cheeks. Please Mom! Come back! Come back!

            I hear a voice. Who is it?

            They're calling my name.

            Jesse.

            Jesse.

            Jesse!

            It's Mom! It's Mom!

            I love you Jesse.

            I love you too!

            It's time to wake up now, Jesse, she tells me.

            No I don't want to wake…I don't…Don't leave me…I don't want to go…Don't…Want to…