Complicated

Good bye

10

Time never really was an issue. Drifting dismissed any time restraints. I had drifted all my life—no, I take that back. I didn’t begin drifting until Amber killed herself. After her death, there would never be another time to see, hold, laugh with, talk to, or learn from or about her. The time for all of that had come to an end. I didn’t just drift to escape time and limbo and reality. I drifted, hoping that when I would come back she would still be here. I was wrong.

Now, time was all too important—it was rapidly disappearing. Too many things could try to stop me before I said good bye forever. That thought made me nervous. I never worked well under anxious pressure.

At five o’clock am, I woke to thunder rumbling. I lay awake on the brown couch, unable to fall asleep again. When the storm didn’t let up, I decided to go ahead and begin saying my goodbyes.

I took my computer back to my room—best to leave things in their proper order. I remembered that Amber had made her bed, washed all of her clothes, and vacuumed the bedroom. She had never been one to clean without being told to, but I guess she didn’t want to leave a mess behind for us to have to clean up. That’s also why she swallowed that bottle of pills—hanging, shooting, everything was just too messy. I agreed.

I made my bed—something that hadn’t been done in ages. I made sure all the laundry was done. Unlike Amber, I had the whole house to return to proper order. Everyone had left me to clean up the mess.

I made my mom’s bed, my dad’s bed, and smoothed out Amber’s comforter. I vacuumed the entire upstairs, stairs, and downstairs. I cleaned all the bathrooms, too. Once I was sure I had cleaned every square inch of the freakin’ house, I sat down to write a letter. My mom had told me to talk to a counselor about why I had decked Sarah, but it was too late for that now. Plus, before now, I hadn’t known why. I finally did.

But, in order to explain, I had to back up—to The Day. To the day when Amber took her own life—because she loved me. I wrote to her:


Dear Amber,

I have a confession to make. I hate you for killing yourself. Worse, I hate myself for losing you. When you left me, you made life unlivable. I tried my best—I honestly did, but I just can’t stand it anymore. Life isn’t the same without you. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t do anything. And so, I drift.

The good thing about drifting is that nothing comes out of it. The bad thing about drifting is the exact same thing. Drifting, my wanderlust, was my limbo. And I’m tired of limbo. I gave reality its chance through Mom and Dad and the world. They all failed me.

Derek, my first kiss, Derek Jameson had so much potential—He wasted it, Amber. He was as shallow as I acted. When I broke up with him, he became Sarah White’s new man. He tried to help me, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t care enough.

Sarah, my fake friend, Sarah White was just as equally as shallow. She didn’t even give a damn about me. She stole my life, my first kiss, even Mom. To add insult to injury, she put Greg Block, your last boyfriend, up to harassing and sexually assaulting me.

Ron, the one who liked me even when I showed no interest in him, Ron Davis could have been the one to save me. But he wasn’t for me. He was too caught up with himself to really look at me. He wanted me to be with him, not for him to be with me. He cared too much.

Mom and Dad never stopped fighting. Mom left. Dad left. They could never have been expected to help me. They pushed you away, too.

They all failed me.

My loves—you and Joshua West, the nicest boy I’ve ever met—failed me. You left me this mess, some of which you created. Where could I find my inspiration if she killed herself? How inspiring is that? Josh helped somewhat, prolonging my inevitable end. I regret that I never got to know him. But he never went out of his way to help save me. I’m too tired to try to understand, too tired of life.

And so, my dear sister Amber, I have come to realize that I can get rid of that feeling—being too tired of life. I have decided to follow you to the end after all. All my life you’ve showed me how to live life. I know you said you weren’t a proper teacher, but you are too negative. You’ve always known exactly how to live.

Amber, even though I hate you for initiating my death, I thank you for all you’ve shown me. It’s been one hell of a ride. I hope I see you on the other side.

Love Always,
Micky Brant


I folded the letter up and slid it in my hoodie’s front pouch. I tucked money, my house key, and my mp3 in my pocket.

I stepped into the chilly December air and stood on my porch a moment. The entire world was wet. I would have gotten an umbrella, but it seemed foolish if I was planning on walking to the CVS, buying the pills, swallowing them behind the Wal-Mart across the street, and dying there. I decided that taking the pills there would leave my body easily noticeable. Then the police would come and identify the body and read the note and call my parents and Life would go on.

I locked the front door, pulled my mp3 from my pocket, and cranked up the heavy metal. I stared down the road. My usual craving to drift had ebbed from my grasp already. I took off down the road, in no hurry to walk the three miles to the CVS. If it took me the rest of the day, so be it.

I’m a fairly emotional person, even if I deny myself of showing it. Up until the moment my feet hit the pavement, I hadn’t cried since last night. But, when I inhaled the rain and took in the empty streets, cozy houses quite content, I felt hot tears trickle down my face. As I neared the end of my road and turned the corner, the tears poured down harder. If the tears hadn’t been scalding, I would have confused them for rain drops. I hadn’t gone a mile before I was soaked down to my skin.

If I was unlucky, hypothermia might kill me. And what’s the point in committing suicide if you don’t even have control over it? I picked up my pace a little and longed for a car. Of course, if I had a car, I would have just closed the garage door, ignited the engine, and drifted off to eternal sleep.

My thoughts kept slipping to the Incident and the Thanksgiving break. I kept feeling Greg’s hands crawling over my body shaking involuntarily. I kept seeing my dad’s face, knowing he didn’t regret anything and that I’d never get to see him or my mother again.

The rain and cold froze my toes; I lost feeling in my feet altogether. That made stumbling down the streets, eyes blinded by tears, nigh impossible. Hopelessness was building up. I wasn’t going to make it.

I pushed a little harder, making it to the curvy roads. I stayed off the road, within reach but out of any careful driver’s path. Getting run over was another too messy way to go.

When my foot hit a hidden ditch, my ankle gave way, and I found myself sprawled on the wet grass. I slowly and painfully got to my feet. My ankle twisted and turned beneath me, but I shook it out and kept going. I was going to make it. I had to.

I kept my eyes on the horizon and watched the end of the curvy section wind into view. After that, just another mile before the end. I grimaced at my throbbing ankle and trudged forward, refusing to stop and rest and check the damage. Did it matter?

I ran out of tears to cry, hacking dry sobs as the rain turned to snow and began blanketing the world with loneliness. The practically nonexistent traffic disappeared completely as the snow built up. I was shivering so rapidly, my body felt exhausted to continue the spasms. The cold wormed its way into my muscles and bones without resistance.

I turned my tired eyes upward. There it was. The CVS was right across the street. I limped to the pharmacy, through the empty parking lot, and into the warm building.

I felt lightheaded and squinted against the fluorescent lights. I ground my teeth together and fought off the blackness threatening to dissolve the color picture before me. I struggled to find the aisle with the medicines. I grasped at the boxes, trying to find the type that Amber took. My breath was labored now. I couldn’t wait to pay for the little bottle. The owner could search my pockets and take the money. I needed the pills now.

I ripped the box open, shakily pulled the bottle out, and blinked back the blackness. My numb fingers were so sluggish and uncoordinated. I couldn’t…I couldn’t get it…open…I put a hand to my forehead and took a step back, the ground tilting beneath me. My ankle gave out again, and I crumpled. The blackness was overwhelming. I closed my eyes, whispering my final good bye.