A Perfect Life
Life Goes On…
I still remember that day so clearly. Unlike the weather now. I look out my skylight and watch as small beady little water droplets fall to the surface of the glass and splatter out, just like the explosion my stomach is still recovering from. I feel nauseous.
On that one faithful day, I remember waking up in a hospital bed. I open my eyes and squint in the light from the ceiling. My eyes are dry and my stomach is tight. It takes me a while to remember why I was there… Helga. She did the one thing that could possibly hurt me more than anything else imaginable. It feels like a part of me has died. A part that if not healed soon, I would also meet my demise.
How could she do this? Didn't she realize that so many people cared for her? I can remember the faces of her parents, at the door as the police carried their daughter's body away. Olga was probably on the first plane home as soon as she heard of the news. Then again, Helga probably did this as a last resort.
I start to wonder, what time is it? I look up around the ceiling of the room. Everything is so white; the light reflects and blinds me. I can make out a clock in the far right hand corner, above the door. It's 10:08. My guess is it's morning.
I look down and start twiddling my thumbs. I feel so lost without Helga. She always gave me an order to follow. It's weird, but it's almost as if she kept me in line. Like, all through some of the adventures I'd have, she was right there, backing me up. Heck, maybe she was there backing me up. I feel as though her whole life revolved around me. Thinking about this gives me anger. I clench my fists together and flop back down on my pillow. Once again, my eyes are met with that familiar white. I start to wonder, do they make these walls so white in order to comfort the dying? So when they finally part this world to that of the darkness, they are relieved? It's quite possible. I know I want darkness right now!
For some reason, I feel open, as if the light is shinning right through me. Open, as Helga must have felt when she told me everything. I know I'll never understand how she truly felt, but I think I'm beginning to understand. Why did I have to be so… heartless? Helga thought of me as a god, sent to her by the heavens. Perhaps wherever her soul is now, she has found a person worthy of being worshipped by her. Not a jerk like me.
The days after that went on slowly. Wherever I turned, I felt horrible. Nausea became one of my biggest comforts.
I haven't eaten in days. I still lie on my bed, looking up to the vast sky. I wonder where Helga is now. I close my eyes and try to picture her. Her image fades more and more each day, as does the pain. I feel like my whole life is becoming meaningless. I'm empty, devoid of any emotion. My grades have plummeted along with any chance of a scholarship. But why continue living when you know you're such a horrible person? The only thing I deserve is the death sentence. I don't realize as my body drifts off to yet another restless sleep. Helga, do I deserve to live?
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What did you think? R&R please!!!
I swear I'm not suicidal; I just seem to be good at angst stories. If you ask nicely in a review (hint*hint), I might write more…Until next time,
~ Dreamer
