Darkness ahead

If Pillows Could Talk

I was standing barefoot next to my bedroom's window, my feet were starting to hurt as I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. 'Soon it won't hurt anymore, and all I'll feel will be numbness' - I said to myself for the thousandth time that night and I wasn't sure if I was terrified of the day when nothingness would've come to take it all away or if I was looking forward to it. I was certain about one thing - that day was inevitable. It was already somewhere in the future, waiting for me, sundowns and sunsets bringing it closer and closer. The pain has never gone away, not even for a single second. I couldn't remember the day when I could take a deep breath without the air shaking on its way in and out of my lungs. My skin used to burn under the grief that was threatening to tear me apart and keep me awake and conscious through it all so that I could feel every inch of my being get ripped away from the rest of me. I could feel I was going to fall apart under that terrifying weight. From the ugly feeling that was burning a hole somewhere deep in my chest, I could tell that moment when my mind was going to break down was surely coming and just like that, I would've never been the same person ever again. In one moment I was going to become a shell of someone who once knew how to be alive. That night that very moment seemed to be closer than ever.

Tears were burning my eyes with rage, selfishly doing everything they could to escape and spill over my cheeks. I wasn't going to let them fall, I hated feeling weak but I couldn't hold them in anymore. I threw myself down on my bed and buried my face in a soft pillow, soaking it with the stream of my tears. If pillows could talk, mine would've screamed with the terror it had to go through every night. It happened two months ago. For two months I've been trying to find a light, any light to illuminate the dark space I was stuck in. It was on the 13th of October - I was never going to forget that date. It was a typical October night, for the first time after the hot summer you could feel the cold wind of fall nights. As usual for that time of the year, leaves were turning yellow and orange and they were slowly starting to cover the streets of my hometown. I've always loved fall - afternoons in coffeeshops with rain pouring outside, warm blankets and hot tea, pumpkins and the spirit of Halloween floating in the air. It was the day of my friend Annie's birthday party. I spent the evening watching movies and sulking over the fact that my best friend wasn't invited. Annie was a friend from my school. I got ready, made myself look presentable after not moving from the couch the whole day and asked my dad to give me a ride to the place where Annie's party took place. It was a small cottage-like house in the middle of nowhere with candelabras and vintage interior - at least that's what I remembered from seeing the pictures a few days prior.

 We were driving down the narrow road in between, what seemed to be, two wheat fields with nothing but darkening horizon and the road in front of us. That's when I felt it. That's when I knew we had to turn around and drive back as fast as we could. We were halfway there and I had to do something. Strange pressure appeared in my chest, started crashing everything it could inside of my ribcage and my head was trapped in thick fog, the fog I couldn't differentiate from the fog that was slowly falling down on the fields surrounding us. I thought I was going to get sick or pass out any second and I dropped down the present I was carefully holding in my hands - 'Dad, I'm not feeling well. You have to turn around I'm feeling sick' - I grasped my hair in my hands and leaned forward. 'What's happening? Hey, Andrea...' - he started but I cut him off. 'Please, dad, just take me home' - I whispered, my body uncontrollably shaking with fear. The moment we got home I was already feeling much better.

That was the night I fell asleep happy about feeling better. That was the night my mom promised me to bake my favorite cookies the day after. That was the night eight of my friends lost their lives at the same party I was heading to.