HEAR ME
By Unsafety Pin
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You gotta be out there
You gotta be somewhere
Wherever you are
I'm waiting...
Ryan stared listlessly out the windshield as the rain beat down. His thoughts came back to the tiny one way road ahead of him. He had come all the way here, would he chicken out now? It had been so long, and he needed to clear his mind. He was 18, this shouldn't be a problem.
'Cause there are these nights when
I sing myself to sleep
And I'm hoping my dreams
Bring you close to me
Are you listening?
The question rang in his head. Was she listening? Would she? Of course, she always did. Ryan contemplated whey he was here. Was he scared? Was he worried what she would think? His heart started to beat faster as he reached for the car door handle.
Hear me I'm crying out
I'm ready now
Turn my world upside down
Find me
Inside his head, he could her what she might say to him, being afraid of talking to her. Ryan stepped into the drizzle the storm had become. His boots seeped into the fresh mud with each step he took. He knew cemetarys are supposed to be depressing, so how come when he visited this one he always felt better?
I'm lost inside this crowd
It's getting loud
I need you to see me
I'm screaming for you to please
hear me
Can you hear me?
Ryan rounded the tiny path to her stone. It had been 3 years ago that they placed her here. Annabella Marie, his sister. He was her baby brother, they had looked out for each other even when they thought there was no where more to look. He studied the engravings a bit more, noticing the fine detail. He wished he would have seen the signs. Ryan kneeled down, testing the softness of the ground beneath him. The rain started to hit harder, and soon it enveloped him in a sheet of rain. Deciding the hell with it, he sat down and leaned his back against the grave stone.
I used to be scared of
letting someone in
but it gets so lonely
being on my own
with no one to talk to and
no one to hold me
I'm not always strong
I need you here
Are you listening?
The years flashed through his mind, some moments sticking out more than others. Annabella cutting her long brownish blonde hair and donating it to Locks of Love, a charity that makes wigs for children with cancer. The day she got her driver's license and took him for ice cream; he was twelve. The day he looked at her and noticed her sunken cheek bones and how tight her skin looked on her arms. The day...
Ryan bit his lip to stop the tears. He didn't come here to cry to her, how sorry he was for letting it happen. He needed to clear his head, not place more guilt on his shoulders. He cleared his throat.
"Hey Annabella." The sun peeked through the clouds to shine. "Happy birthday."
Ryan shifted his position, grimacing at the mud beneath him. He could almost hear her laughing. He had been 15 when she died, she 19. Died. Ryan thought it was more like murder.
I'm restless and wild
I fall but I try
I need someone to understand
(Can you hear me?)
I'm lost in my thoughts
And I've fought
For all that I've got
Can you hear me?
Unlike Ryan and Trey, Annabella had a different father, but she might as well of had none at all. Maybe she would still be here, Ryan thought to himself. His mother's boyfriends had all called her ugly and fat, unfit to live in the same space. Annabella stopped eating, purposely working long hours to advoid the subject of food. Her brothers were said to be her responsibility, anything they did came down upon her. Ryan tried to be good, but Trey always blamed things on him, but that didn't matter. Annabella would always take the pain for them. Trey treated her like dirt, like she was there to take his punishments. She was beautiful, beautiful blue green eyes, beautiful golden skin, beautiful golden streaked brown hair.
She said that one day, when she's graduated from college and had her own house, on the beach of course, she'd take him from this place and show him that a house isn't supposed to be like this. That he won't have to worry about breathing too loud, or getting beat because he spilled his drink. Annabella didn't deserve the treatment that she got.
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He was 15. Ryan slammed the door shut, or rather, tried to. The force caused the door to bounce off the shabby wood frame, not to mention catch another's attention. His mother's boyfriend's shady eyes met his, along with a rough fist.
"Don't you ever slam that door again, you hear me?!" The boyfriend cracked his knuckles.
Ryan stood silent, eyes to the worn floor. His face stung. It was then that the door clicked shut behind him. Annabella was home. Ryan looked behind him. The fierce protectiveness was ever present in her green eyes.
"And where do you think you've been? You was supposed to have dinner ready by the time I got home." His breath reeked of alcohol.
"I've been at school, and if you weren't so drunk off your ass all the time, you'd know that!" Annabella raised her voice, something she wouldn't regret, but Ryan would. Annabella stepped in front of him, plowing on. "Unlike you, I plan on doing something with my life other than mooching off someone else and beating on kids!"
Ryan believed there would have been more to come, had the rough fist not been raised again. And again. He blinked, and suddenly the boyfriend wasn't standing anymore. Neither was Annabella. A surge of panic swept Ryan, not for the boyfriend, but for Annabella. She was sprawled on the floor behind him, hand prints decorating for delicate face. Ryan dropped to his knees beside her.
"Annabella?" He took her head into his lap. " 'Bella? Hey..."
A soft string of coarse language floated to his ears. "...dead...fucking dead" Ryan moved a piece of hair from her face. "...'Bella my ass...hate that." She moved to get up, setting her arms behind her for balance. She lightly touched her face.
"Son of a bitch..." Annabella came to her feet. She looked around for her "mother's" boyfriend, and found him out cold on the floor. She cocked an eyebrow at her brother, knowing the answer without asking the question. If Ryan would have known that this moment would lead to the undoing, he would have grabbed Annabella and ran as fast as his legs would have carried him.
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Continue on? I've definately got more to write, that is, if it wants to be heard! hint hint Leave a review!