The One That Walked Away

The One That Walked Away

            Her hands in mine, together forever she says. “You are mine, you are safe with me, never forget that.” Her fingers intertwined with mine. Laying there for what seemed like hours. I could spend all day with her if I got the chance, but sooner or later my mom would call me to come home. I dreaded getting that call because then I knew it was time to leave her for the day.

            We kissed, her lips, so plump, so juicy, and so full of life. And that life rubbed off onto me with each kiss. Each kiss brought me so alive, I felt invincible to anything that could possibly come into my path.

            As I kissed her I grabbed her neck, laced in soft tan skin. Her hair on the back of her neck stood up, I smiled inside.  I touched her hair. Indian colored black, smooth and well taken care of. She gently brushed my cheek and we smiled together.

            The phone rang. Time to leave my temple and my goddess.

 

One month, second month, third month, fourth, fifth, and so on. Even though it’s been almost a year since, she comes into my mind every so often to remind me why I get the hate that I do. Even though I know it’s not my fault, I feel as though it is, because deep down I know I could have done better and I could have done something to stop it. But now that doesn’t matter, I must move on.

Wake up, get dressed, and brush my teeth and so on. Eat breakfast, say good morning to uncle Todd and aunt Sherrie and out the door I go to a better school.

            “Hey ‘MAC’!” I look around trying to find Jake, pretty much the only one who calls me that. I finally find him. “Oh hey, did you finish the biology paper due in Collins class today?” I ask him. He shrugs and changes the subject, “Have you heard from Chan? Because he told me he was going to text me, but… well, he never did. Just making sure he’s not being an ass.” I shake my head no.

Chan isn’t one to just blow someone off, but sometimes everyone just needs time to themselves so I brushed it off.

We walked to class in silence. Walking into Collins biology was dreadful. She always greeted us at the door with a cheesy fake smile on her face. And when we got into the classroom she asked us all how our weekends were, but nobody chose to speak, too early in the morning, annoying teacher, and just school in general.

            “Why is it that nobody ever does anything fun over the weekend? Or could it be that nobody wants to share? Fine then, I will tell you all about my weekend.” And she goes on and on about how her husband, who I believe to be over 60, fell and sprained his ankle. I could care less.

Second period, third, fourth, lunch. Finally lunch time! I don’t actually eat lunch, I just like it because it means social hour.

Chandler comes up to me, “So uh, hmm, well, why is Jake so butt hurt?” I’m puzzled, “What do you mean? Jake isn’t butt hurt.”

            “Ha okay. He gave me crap because my mom took my phone so I couldn’t text him back last night. Look man, I don’t need crap from one of my brothers. Tell him to lay off.”

            “Why don’t you tell him yourself? I’m not a messenger, sorry.” He punches my arm lightly and turns around and walks away. I don’t like getting in the middle of silly stuff between my bros.

 

Daily routine: Get up, go to school, come home, do homework, therapy session, eat, sleep, and repeat the process over again the next day.

Yes therapy. Not how I planned to spend my weekdays as a teenager but it’s what life had in store for me. My aunt drops me off and picks me up afterwards. But during each session is usually filled with the same questions and answers.

            “So Michael how was your day?” My therapist Lisa asks.

            “Well it was a Monday. But not too bad I suppose. Nothing really happened. Nothing to report I guess.” Very vague.

            “Sounds good. But how about we talk about past events and discuss some options to help us get to a point in life where these sessions can become only weekly instead of daily.” Not what I like to discuss but I have no other option.

            “What do you mean? I’m doing fine. We don’t need to bring up things that will only anger me.”

            “I know I –“

            “No you don’t know! You think you do but honestly no you don’t! Sure you know my past and why I’m here but you don’t get it. If I think about it, it only pisses me off and makes me want to... to... Forget it. Fuck this!” I’m beyond angry now and Lisa is left in a little shock.

            “Michael don’t talk like that. I do understand the whole situation, more than you think. And if you’re really feeling suicidal then maybe we need to up your prescription and do some exercises to help you clear your mind.”

            “You’d have to talk to Pauline about my prescription, I have no handle on that, plus she pays for it. Anyways, I’m fine. I’m only feeling like this now because of you. Why can’t we just move on from it?”

            “If it were only that simple. Besides, if you could just move on from it, you wouldn’t need to even be here. I know it must be tough to be fifteen and having to go to therapy daily. But we must try to get through this together. But I think your aunt is here so it’s time to go” Short sessions sometimes, if I’m lucky.

When we get home I go upstairs to my room. I go onto my laptop and log into Facebook. I really don’t like to but I do. I look at my pictures and posts. Old memories brought back. I keep looking and then slam my laptop shut. Why do I do this to myself? I torture myself with what was and what could have been. I’m slowly breaking inside.

Move on. Homework, I take out history and distract myself with a current event assignment. That gets old so I stop and go to sleep.

 

                        Another month drifts by.

            It’s just Johnny, Daniel and I playing video games. Black OPS like pros. Johnny stops the game and sits at my desk in my room and pulls out a pill bottle. Takes out a couple of Prozac’s and asks if I have a mallet or hammer. I ask him what for. “To crush these up duh.”  Crush up pills? Whoa, what? “Do you have one or not?” he asks with irritation in his voice. I nod yes and run down and get one. I come back upstairs and give it to him. He crushes up the pills with the mallet. “What are you doing Johnny?” I ask confusedly.

            “Crushing them up Mikey boy.” He crushes up the pills, lines the dust up, and snorts them. Him and Daniel take turns crushing and snorting.

            “Are you gonna hit it or are you gonna just stand there and be a sissy?” Daniels smart comment makes me want to see what this is all about. One hit, two hits, three. I’m flying sky high. My head, my head is missing from my body it feels like. But wait, no, it’s still there. It’s just the dust. This is a new feeling, a unique feeling. But one I like, a lot. I ask Johnny how much for a bottle. He says the big bad number of $95.

            “Whoa! 95?! No way man you’re outta your mind. Why so much?”

            “Bro, that’s a hell of a discount. For you, only $10 dollars a pop. Only cause you’re new to the game.”

Him referring to it as a “game” was puzzling. Why a “game”? Was I getting into something I would soon regret? More than likely. But the dust told me, “Do it, do it. We’ll make you happy. We’ll make you forget your problems.” And so I listened to them, I gave in. Handed Johnny Mr. Grant and went on my way to the temple after Johnny and Daniel left.

            I went to the bathroom and glanced at the mirror and from the corner of my eye, oh my, my eyes. Man were they red! “Shit” is the only words that left my mouth out loud. Quickly I called up Johnny. He told me to put eye drops in my eyes and that should make them better. I found some, and sure enough, no more red eyes. Just in time, my aunt walked in the house from work.

            “Oh, hey there Michael. I didn’t see you there!” She laughed.

            “Ha. Yeah. Sorry about that Aunt Sherrie. Do you-“ She was looking into my eyes. Damn, the drops didn’t work as well as I thought.    

            “Are you okay? Why are your eyes so red? Have you been crying sweetie?”

Yeah crying. That’s it. “No I haven’t been crying. I just woke up.”

            She pulled back looking confused. “Just woke up?! It’s 6 o’clock. Now you’re going to be up all night. Boy, stop napping so late, that’s why you need naps because you nap so late that you can’t sleep until after midnight. Bed early tonight.”

Someone’s had a rough day. She needs to get off my case. My sleep schedule, not hers. “Alright I’m sorry. When’s Todd getting home so we can eat dinner?”

            “Soon. Did you finish your homework?”

            “Uh yeah. For the most part.” Not really, homework isn’t my thing.

            “For the most part? Either you did or you didn’t. Did you go to your session after       school?”

            I looked around trying to avoid answering, but finally I said, “No.”

            She looked at me with a little anger. “No?! What do you mean no Michael? You need to go to every session. There is no way around it. When your mom sent you out here to live with us she made me promise to take you to your daily sessions until you got to weekly sessions. Don’t slip anymore. Unless you’d like to go back to Gilbert. Then end of discussion. “

           

            After dinner I went upstairs, opened my laptop and logged onto Facebook. New messages and friend requests. Don’t I feel special, not. But a new friend request was from a girl named Kianna. She was pretty, so I hit “accept”. A few minutes later she sent me a message- “Hi!”

                            “Hey”         

                           “What’s up?!”  She sounded so enthusiastic, I on the other hand, was not.                       “Not much. Uh, what about you?”

We continued a casual conversation for a couple hours. It was past midnight my time, only ten o’clock her time, in Gilbert.

She went to sleep, as did I.

 

                        Time Flies- June

 

            Ah, June. Amazing time of the year: summer. Freedom, long nights, bon fires, beach, most of all: parties.

           

            Jake and I are hanging out at his place. Playing Call Of Duty.

            “Hey man make an Instagram! There are so many hot babes on here that can follow you.”

I had no idea what Instagram was, so he told me it was a photo sharing app so I decided to be optimistic and make an account.

Chose a username. Not easy for me to make one up. I think for a couple minutes. Finally I came up with, “Mac_96”

Password. Easy, I use the same one for everything.

Add a picture, birthdate, email, and some info for my bio.

And I’m all set to go.

I followed Jake, “Jake_the_schnake” and Chandler, “Chanpran” and some other random people who followed me back.

I didn’t really see the point in having an account on this App, it seemed pointless but fun at the same time.

 

Later that month Jake also introduced me to another app, “Ask.Fm” I wish I never signed up and made an account.

“Ask” is self-explanatory. You make an account with a username and everything, and people can ask you questions, ANYONE. Which can be cool, but also very bad. Because people can ask anonymous questions, doesn’t sound bad right? But wrong, that’s where the bullying comes in.

Right from the start I got horrible and harassing “questions”.

Once people from Gilbert found out that I had made one, they were all over it.

People I didn’t even know, being in my personal life like they lived it!

“Did you love her?”

“Why did you push her over the edge?!”

“You deserve to be dead just like her!”

“If you weren’t living in precious Florida with your auntie I would slice your throat Mikey!”

 

It got worse, but I’ll spare you with them for later when it makes sense.

 

They had no remorse, no limit, no souls.

 

IT WAS NOT MY FAULT. But yet here I was, getting hate for it anyway, it didn’t matter.

 

 

           

People who like to spread rumors are ones with problems of their own. Like Cassie Brooks.

I’d punch her face in in a heartbeat. I know you should never hit women, but she deserves it for ruining my life. It sounds caddy like a girl, but she really did. Because of her and her lies, I am labeled a “Suicide Killer”. How can you be a suicide killer? Being reason for why someone took their life is all I can think of. But I wasn’t reason.

 

                        Move On

They say. Easier said than done. I’ve been trying for almost half a year. But you try to move on when you walk down the same halls you did while holding her hand, when people throw full water bottles at you, when people send you death threats. It’s not something that can be done overnight. Therapy helps but never fully does the trick. Only one thing helps take away the pain, and that’s freshly crushed dust of Prozac.

Ah lovely Prozac and whatever else I can get my hands on. I try to tell myself I’m not a “druggie” but it looks and sounds like I am with all the dust I do.

It’s Johnny and Daniel who got me hooked with one hit. With just one line I got hooked and well, addicted instantly.

It’s kind of an expensive habit I wish I could break but that would be very hard to do. Especially because nobody, not even my best friends Jake and Chandler, know about. And I would kind of like to keep it that way, for a while at least.

 

                        Another Therapy Session

            “So Michael, I know I’ve asked this many times but, do you like Boca better than Gilbert?”

            “Obviously! What kind of a question is that? Are you stupid Lisa? My God! My aunt and mom are wasting their money on your dumb ass who sits