Save Me (Before the Summer Ends)

Save Me- Part 28

Herro! I hope your weekend was lovely! Mine sucked- woo! I'm not gonna get into my emotional tyrant, but it again is the reason I have not sat and written like I wish I could. I hate boys I decided. A lot.  Oh! I am changing the cover of this momentarily after I post! Heads up

Anywho. <3

Four weeks has now passed since the absolute worst day of my life hit me like a ton of bricks. This happens to families all the time, but you never do expect it to one day happen to you.

No, that thought doesn't even cross your mind. You would never consider if when your mother walked out the front door it would be the last time you see her walking. You would never dream that the article in big black font with the photos of a family and a horrific crash would correspond to you. You wouldn't be able to imagine the feeling afterwards, and how everything in your life changes. You would never know the pain and regret that those people feel, thinking of the should haves, could haves and would haves.

I sure didn't.

Spontaneously, I had lost a mother and became one as well as a father. Since that Thanksgiving Day the Bryant house hold has been on threatening to shatter on a daily basis.

No one had ever dealt with loss like this before. All my grandparents were still alive, no deaths in the first line of our family, no neighbors or close friends.

Ultimately, I would be the one with the blame, the guilt, the self hate. I fell for Jake. I seduced Jake. I visually scarred my sister. I made the relationship with my mother faulty. I drove away Jake. I drove away my family. I killed my mother unknowingly. I was the source of destruction.

And yet, I miss him still which sickens me to the core.

So here on Christmas day, I let the events build and eat away at me as I sat on the cold hard wooden floor outside the big sliding door the led out to the snow covered porch and front lawn of our cottage, just watching. Thick weightless flakes of snow spiraled downward, building layers upon layers of white glitter across every piece of land you could see. My father threw a handful of the glistening powder up into the sky, smiling as it dispersed over Mike and Abby. In his best efforts, they looked as if for a moment, the first time in a long time, they were actually happy.

So I watched. And watched some more. 

Somehow I was captivated by the silent encounter between child and father. The world was muted from the inside of my living room while outside the white powder was being tossed and exchanged. 

In my deep concentration I failed to hear the knocking sound of the front door, the creek of the wooden door opening, the rubbing of boots against carpet. 

But I did notice the gruff sound of someone clearing his throat, and instantly I knew who it was. 

"You're here." I murmured, not even turning to face him. Not even sitting up. 

What must I have looked like, sprawled on the floor now?

"I'm here." Jacob said. I heard him swallow hard. As I had thought, his presence lifted some of the heavy weight off my shoulders, like he had always done since when things ever got hard in my life.

So the silence began as we both reveled in our own words. The last I had heard of Jake is that he has a cast on his right wrist, a healing wound on his forehead, and is undergoing a class under drinking and driving by the state of New York, as oppose to being recognized as legal adult because at the time of the accident, he was still 17. I wondered about him, which I hated myself even more for. I should hate him, not be craving his presence constantly.