The Worst Thing about Life is Being Alive- Chapter 1

Tragedy all around me.

Fire and smoke and the musical popping of glass shattering, like my psyche. Cars engulfed in acrid flames with black smoke penetrating the beautiful sunset, marring it into something menacing. People robotically climbing out of the wrecks in a daze, too stunned to cry as they sit on the cracked pavement and wonder what to do next; unable to look back in the wreckage at the ones who didn't make it and face the fact that they were gone forever.

As I sat cross-legged in front of my own wreckage trying to desperately forget about myself and what just happened, I heard the small, pitiful voice of a child ask their parents what will happen next. A part of me wondered that as well. Crossing my arms on my knees and resting my chin there, I stared straight ahead into the horizon and cried, the tears sliding down my masklike face and falling to the pavement, seemingly never ending.

This is what I remember of the accident, the rest is a thick haze that seems impossible to penetrate. Even though I try my hardest to forget, I lost my world, my reason for life that day. After years of therapy and group homes —the underage alcohol consumption helped too— I still can't forget the faces in that damn car on that fateful day.

Every day I'm alive feels like betrayal somehow, feeling like I was condemned and sentenced for living. And believe me, I've tried to join them in the afterlife plenty of times with no success. Countless professionals over the years have tried to drill into my head that I was chosen to live for a reason, even if said reason wasn't revealed now, they assured me that it would be later in life.

Well, let's just say I was tired of waiting around for it.

Life is miserable without the people that were supposed to be in it; I miss my real family and it hurts everyday to be on this Earth.

Tomorrow is the sixth —always hated the word— anniversary of the tragedy, and sure to be hell.

Everyone always treats me like I'm made of glass, and I drown in a sea of faux sympathy and awkwardly long hugs for the rest of the day. Sure, it felt great when I was younger but now it was just tedious. It's like everyone in town goes "Oh, that poor girl. What happened to her was a real tragedy. Surely talking about it and offering half-assed sympathetic remarks will really make her feel better!"

Gag me with a spoon and bury me already, I'm ready for the sweet release of death. Choked to death, okay! Thrown into the ocean, sure! Raped and killed? A-Okay! Anything, I'm not picky just end my life please—

The sound of something heavy landing on my desk jolts me out of my admittedly emo narrative, making me jump and almost fall out of my seat. In the back of the class someone laughs, and I roll my eyes before grabbing the top package and examining it. Of course, the midterm is starting now. Just freakin' peachy keen. I didn't study and it slipped my mind. My group home parents won't like the probable fail I'm about to get. Someone behind me taps my shoulder impatiently and snaps,

"Any day now, Keller. We aren't getting any younger."

I pass the stack over my shoulder and tuck my hair behind my ear while murmuring,

"No obviously not, and you should really learn to brush your teeth."

That earned me a surprised gasp and a quick flick in the ear before finally moving away and focusing on their test, thankfully. Mouth breathers deserve the worst circle of Hell, I swear. I grabbed a pencil out of my messy bag and tapped the eraser against my mouth while scanning the test for the answers I know. Unfortunately, it seemed like the only thing I knew was my name and date. I am so fucked.

Reluctantly, I wrote Aurora Keller in the name box and my pencil hovered over the date because I forgot. Lack of memory is the bane of my existence, and nothing is safe from its havoc. Mornings always have me tired; it doesn't help that this is the first block.

I steal a glance at the board and instantly feel grateful that it was written. I copy it down and look out of the window at the fall scenery. The warm colors of red, yellow, and orange explode from the towering trees and float like confetti to the ground to be crunched under by boots and squashed by cars. The deliciously cool breezes that make the trees shake and people quake. I especially love the chilling rain that seems to cut to the bone, making the teeth chatter as you pull your coat tighter—

The sound of everyone getting up makes me snap out of my trance, calling my attention back towards the class. I see my teacher watching me with disapproving eyes, slightly shaking their head. It's a look I'm accustomed to very well. She starts walking towards my desk with exaggerated slowness, running a feminine hand through her neatly kept ginger curls as she finally approaches my desk. I notice her wearing a wonderfully deep blue skirt that perfectly matches her spotless white lace top because it flares up as she perches at the end of the desk and takes my hand, resting them on the desk between us.

Everything about her is eccentric and that's why she's my favorite block of all time. Somehow, the same feedback from other teachers doesn't sound so bad from her mouth. I admit, she's been like a sort of mother figure for me since the other one didn't make it from the crash. So far, she's been doing an amazing job at making sure I'm feeling okay. I shift in my seat in discomfort because all she's doing is staring at me. Finally, she pushes my hair out of my eyes to better see me and states,

"You didn't even attempt the test."

I couldn't help but look down at my scuffed shoes and cupping my neck with my free hand. She waited until I looked back into her soft topaz eyes before continuing,

"Aurora, you need to focus on your education it's very important. It pains me to see you struggling with your grades because you daydream instead of applying yourself in the classroom. I know you can do better; do you know that?"

I know to speak when spoken to but it's really hard when you start to cry, and it feels like your throat closes. I feel horrible because I don't like crying in front of others but honestly, I don't think anyone does. After clearing my throat and wiping the back of my hand across my face I can finally say,

"I try my hardest to pay attention in class but what you're asking me to do is impossible, Ms. Fielding. Everything distracts me and school doesn't even interest me anymore. I just want to drop out and find a job. Keep working till I eventually die and stop thinking about the past, yknow?"

Her face suddenly got intense, and she moved to put both hands on the sides of my face before saying,

"Don't you dare say things like that, Rory. I recommend you see someone about these feelings you keep having or it will be all you can think about, day in and day out. I seriously don't want that to happen to you, it would be a real shame."

I manage to nod before she releases my face. Before she gets up, she grabs my midterm paper and scans it, clicking her tongue. I feel my face burn and self consciously tug on the collar of my sweater. She turns it so I can see, and I learn that not only was I daydreaming but doodling as well. They stare back at me, making me sweat. I don't remember the pencil moving. I reluctantly grab it from her hand as she says,

"Come in after school and you can attempt the midterm again. I really hope you have a better day in your other classes, bye now!"

I stuff the paper in my bag along with my pencil and zip it up, grabbing my coat before finally getting out of my seat and putting them on. I pull the hood up and turn to look at Ms. Fielding one more time, drinking in her appearance. She lifted her hand in a wave and I felt myself mimic her, the notion feeling alien. I strode out, putting on a brave face to hide the damaged inside.

The rest of the day was sub-par at best. All the teachers yelled at me about not paying attention and my missing assignments, warning me that I would probably have to repeat the grade. I kept hearing my mothers stern voice telling me to deal with the consequences like she was whispering it in my ear, and it chilled me. By the time I got to Ms. Fielding's class again at the end of the day I was ready to collapse. Instantly fall into a coma and hopefully never wake up; but this dumb midterm had to be completed and I was tired of hearing how much of a failure I was. Maybe this time I can pull a decent grade, for the first time in years I feel hopeful.

Editors note: There will be a chapter 2 don't worry! I just need to take some time off for some schoolwork. I'll write whenever I can.