Second Chance

Painful Remembrance

                   Some days I know she's gone. I know that she is no longer existent, and that she is resting in peace. But other days, I'm not so sure. 

        It was the summer of 2002, a year ago, when she left. She's dead even though I don't want to believe it. 

Although, I'm not sure I can. 

        Every night I have the same dream- Madeline and I, sitting on the bench in our school courtyard, talking about the party she was going to host for a get together with our friends before we went our own seperate ways, to go to college and discover the real world. Talking about how much we were going to miss so-and-so, and how annoying teachers are, and so on. Well, I think it's needless to say, that never happened.

That was the last time I saw her. 

            I can still remember everything about her perfectly. Every little detail, carved into my head. The way she played the piano with such elegance, her fingers so graceful, as she played Für Elise for hours on end. Her platinum blonde waves spilling down her back to her knees, flowing in the breeze on the perfect day. Animated bright and beautiful emerald green eyes that always looked happy. Skin so pale she could blend in with the January snow. She was my best friend. 

And I loved her. 

        We did everything together. I remember how we met. We were both 6 and she was moving in next door to me. I was sitting on the front steps of my porch, watching the moving trucks load pull in her driveway. Madeline was looking at me and waved. I waved back of course. Mrs. Meyer told her that she could play with me if Maddie wanted, and in a split second I was looking at a little girl. Her mother followed her and introduced themselves. 

"This little girl here is Maddie, and my name is Samantha. What's your name?" Mrs. Meyer asked. 

"Liam." 

"Well Liam, I'll let you play with Maddie if you would like." I nodded, and we played until we were asleep on my couch. 

        Ever since those moving trucks pulled into the house next door, we spent every single day together, even holidays. We were like family. I've always thought of family as something that doesn't need to be defined by blood, but by a special connection that just makes you gel together. You don't need a DNA sample or a birth certificate to define you're relationship with someone else. 

                Every day without her, felt like death was just waiting for the perfect time. The agony, everyday was like someone killed me over and over for a year. I miss her so much. If I could bring her back, I would wrap her in my embrace and never let her go. Every day would be better knowing that she's here. Knowing that she's okay. 

                Rumors scattered around about her death. Some say it was suicide, from all of her cuts and scars. That rumor would be most likely, but it is still a rumor. Every day I tried and tried to get her to stop cutting. I told her everyday how important she is, not just to me, but her family, and people at school too. I told her about how people would miss her and never be the same without her if she left. Everything you could think of that would make her better, I did. Sometimes she would call me in the middle of the night, crying hysterically, not wanting to have anything to do with anyone anymore. The only thing that I could do, is say over and over 'I'm here, it's okay, it's okay.' We were like siblings, always there for each other. She listened for a while. I guess I didn't do as great of a job as I thought. 

                The other rumor was also a great possibility. They say it was a car crash, that she finally got a hold of some vodka, that she was so desperately trying to get a hold on, and swerved into a tree. That it was dead on arrival, the impact to strong for her to handle.

        I remember that week being so excruciating for her. She wasn't acting like herself at all. Her world, was falling apart, everyday, right in front of her. Self harm, parents constantly fighting, bullying at school. Every night she would have to sleep over my house, and I would stay up until 4:00 in the morning to make sure she didn't try to do anything, and nothing happened to her. At school the next morning I was so tired but I never cared. 

                Maybe she was drunk to forget the memories of her pain, that the world was just to much for her. To trap herself inside of a bottle so no one could hurt her. To be set free. No one ever told me. I never found out. 

I need to know. 

After all, who can live their life just wondering?