Scarlett
TW: Drugs, suicide, self harm, sexual assault, and death
Rain. Lightening. Metal crunching. Darkness. I can't feel my legs. Where are my legs? Brandon's dead eyes looking back at me. Kassidy's headless body hanging out of the windshield.
Gurgling. She wants me to save her. I can't feel my fucking legs.
I can't save her.
Hundreds of mourners. Two caskets. One Chambers.
Numb. Handful of white pills. Sliced wrists. Pool of blood. Failure. Alive but dead.
Dead.
Dead.
I still want to be dead.
"Ayo Scarlett, you good?" Angel's voice snaps me out of my thoughts and brings me back from the rabbit hole that I've been continuously falling down the past couple of days.
I haven't been able to get the accident out of my mind these past few days. Every time I close my eyes, I'm transported back to Brandon's truck. I can hear Kassidy's gurgles and smell the blood and vomit.
"Y-yea," I clear my throat, even I can hear the distress in my voice. "Yea Angel, I'm good. Real good." I don't know who I'm trying to convince more - him or me.
"Are you sure? Because I've watched you stare at that bottle for a solid three minutes without blinking. Don't think I haven't noticed you zoning out all the time. It's like you're not even here these days. Is everything all good up there?" Angel perches on the kitchen counter and lightly taps the top of my head. His bloodshot eyes stare intensely into mine as if he's trying to figure out the truth.
Angel and I have been best friends since I moved here. The first time we met, we clicked instantly. Sometimes it's as if he knows me better than myself, so I won't be able to lie to him for much longer.
"Are the nightmares back?" Pity is laced in his voice, and I hate the way he's looking at me.
I nod. Yes, the nightmares are back but how do I tell him that they're no longer contained to the night? I see Brandon and Kassidy everywhere now. Brandon's sitting on the couch while Kassidy's in the kitchen going through the fridge. I hear them calling my name when I'm alone, and the metallic smell of blood floods my senses randomly.
How do I tell him that it's not just the nightmares anymore, but it's this feeling of drowning? and I just don't have the energy to swim any longer?
"You smell like weed." I reach past him and grab a Four Loko. This is the most sober I've been in almost two weeks. A clear mind is a dangerous mind. When I'm sober, I feel the weight of the world crushing me, but when my mind's being controlled by something else, I'm okay.
"Because I've been smoking." Angel sing songs as the first sip burns my throat and envelopes me in a familiar heat. The burn is good. The burn means numb.
Angel's trying to have a good time, and I'm fucking up the mood by being on a pity party. It's Christmas Eve. We're trying to have a good time to bring in the holiday. All of these broken people trying to feel whole again by partying with a bunch of strangers, instead of being with their families because they no longer have a home to call their own.
I shouldn't be here.
I should be at home, watching hallmark Christmas movies with Brandon and Kassidy, wearing matching pajamas. It's crazy how life can change so quickly. They're decomposing in boxes a state away, and I'm about to get fucked up. This time last year I was trying to kill myself. 365 days later, and I still want nothing more to be 6 feet under.
