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Chapter Five.
Letting Go.
Christian.
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Last night was unbearable. Since I allowed myself to recall my past, I've hardly been able to breathe. My cross to bear, is a constant companion. A torturous reminder, and with every second that has brought me closer to the anniversary of the accident, it's become more suffocating.
I feel drained, body and mind, and I've had enough. The combination of the two is taxing and I really can't carry on like this. I need closure. I need peace. I need to end this torment within myself, once and for all. I have to draw a line under all of this and let it go. Before there is nothing left of me to save.
I need to breathe. I need to be able to close my eyes without fear. I need to live.
It took me all night, but I've made a decision.
A decision, that I've never had the nerve to contemplate before. One, I've never wanted to contemplate before. I'm not sure if it will help me, but it seems... Fitting.
Especially now.
Today.
I've decided to return to the spot that changed my life. I'm going to go back to the Cascades to make my peace. I'm going back to let go, to reprieve myself and bid farewell to my ghosts. To say goodbye to Ana.
Finally.
Hopefully.
Driving along the road that fills my nightmares, I feel myself growing more and more anxious with every bend in the road. The closer I get to the small unheard of town, the more the feelings inside of me churn and rise. I push down the rising nausea as I drive on through the imposing trees, ignoring them and everything else around me. Focusing solely, on where I need to be.
Knowing, I need to do this, knowing, I need to be here and end this, I urge the car forward. Even though, all I want to do is slam it into reverse.
In ten years, I've never wanted to come back here. Never felt the need to.
It's been bad enough, dreaming with young eyes and disjointed thoughts and memories, without having it refreshed and brought back to life in full Technicolor. I've always believed that coming back here would somehow make it worse, but could it have been any worse?
I feel a shiver run up my spine as I involuntarily, swallow deeply, and I know that I'm getting close. I can feel it.
The last thing I remember seeing, before feeling the force of the impact, was the back of the towns, 'Come Back, Soon' sign. It was situated on the opposite side of the road, and I remember smiling at the lewd graffiti that was sprayed on the back of it as I avoided my dad's eye.
Lifting my foot off the gas pedal, I slow my speed as I turn the bend. My heart pounds, as my stomach rolls because there it is. Even without the wooden marker, and the curve of missing trees from the explosion, in the perfectly uniformed tree line. I would have known this spot anywhere.
I pull over as soon as I can, but remain situated in my seat. I can't bring myself to move, and find myself motionless as I'm taken over by everything.
Sights, sounds and smells engulf me quickly. I'm overpowered as images invade, consume and blind me. I sit, frozen in the car as that night replays behind my tightly closed eyelids. Unable to control the visions, I try to focus, try to breathe and pull myself together, but it's impossible. It's far too overwhelming being this close.
I can feel her. Sense her. Even hear her.
I clutch the steering wheel as the minutes go by. The car, filled with the sound of my deep, erratic breathing. I think of anything and everything, to expel that night from my head, and once I begin to calm, I slowly begin to count. Somehow, I manage to pull myself together enough to take a step out the car. I turn, leaning against it for support. With my hands splayed evenly above the window, I rest my head on the roof. My breathing is still labored, my pulse is pounding in my ears and I can feel heavy, beads of sweat running down my chest under my shirt. I'm violently trembling, fighting the urge to vomit, and knew I shouldn't have come.
With a false sense of conviction. I stand tall, take a deep, determined breath and push myself away from the car with force. I need to take control of myself. I need to take control of this. I need to be stronger than this. I need to get over this. I have to get this over with.
This has to be done.
Bent on accomplishing what I've set out to do, I stride to the trunk of my car. I open it, and take out the large, circular wreath of Lillie's, that the florist suggested would be suitable for this kind of tribute. Holding it firmly in my hands, but being careful not to crush the delicate blooms, I walk along the side of the road.
Each step is heavier than the last, and I welcome the dropping onto my knees as I reach the soft grass, where others, have marked this spot. I place my flowers down on the ground, and a huge wave of sadness washes over me. I glance at the other laid out tokens of respect, and my heart bleeds for everyone that this accident has ever hurt.
I know that my family have rarely visited here. My Mother came here, not long after dad's funeral to lay flowers, but I don't think she's been here since. She visits his grave, every Sunday, tending to it diligently, though, but never here.
It's obvious that someone still visits here, and visits regularly. Someone, is still pained, still suffering, still heartbroken, over what happened here and what I did to Ana. The dying, varied assortment of blooms, that are all at different stages of withering and rotting away, prove that to me. It hits me hard.
Why has this surprised me so much? It shouldn't have.
My eyes fall to the ground where I remember placing the small, fragile body of the girl... Ana. I can see her in my mind's eye as clear as day. She was so small, so fragile, so scared... and dying in front of me.
She was just a child. She had her whole life ahead of her. It had hardly begun, but I took that away from her. Right here on this spot. I ended everything for her.
I can honestly say, that I've often wondered what Ana, would look like now. How she would have matured and grown. I've always had my own idea of how she would've altered and blossomed into herself, because she was a pretty child.
I've also pondered over what she might have done with her life. What dreams she could've achieved and accomplished by now. Her failures and successes. The possibilities were endless for her. She would've been in her early twenty's now. She could've been married, maybe had kids, but no, she never got the chance.
My chest tightens and sadness clouds me as I realize the mistake I've made. I thought it would help, me coming here and saying goodbye. By making a conscious decision to let go and leave it all behind me, I thought I could just move on. Now, I'm not too sure. I can feel her more strongly now that I'm here.
I was a fool to do this. A fool, to think this would help.
How can I ever let her go? She's a part of me.
What I did to her, what my actions caused, what I ended, will always be a part of me. There's no escaping that.
Sudden movement in my peripheral draws my eyes upward. I stand swiftly, straighten myself, squaring my shoulders and brushing the tears, that I didn't even know were falling, from my cheeks.
Two large Husky dogs, pulling an empty wooden cart, emerge from a gap in the nearby tree line. They're followed closely by a local looking man in his fifties, who's dressed in denim and plaid. I feel my lip curl into a melancholy smile as my eyes lower, because one of dogs is very similar to a pup from long ago.
The local man, nods a, 'Good day,' in my direction before looking down at the wreath I've left on the ground. He can hardly miss it. Compared to all the dying blooms it shines.
"It's terrible, what happened that night." he mumbles, and I see his eyes crease. "Did you know them?" he asks, looking at me fully. Interest and pity, both clear and creeping into his eyes.
I shake my head numbly, suddenly overwhelmed. I feel like he can see right through me, deep into my tortured soul. As he frowns at me and his eyes lock with mine, I feel like he knows what I've done, why I'm here, and what I hoped to accomplish. I feel like he can see my pain, shame and guilt written all over me, and I can't bear it.
I feel panic begin to rise, bubbling in my gut and I have to go. I have to get out of here.
I step backwards, mumbling an incoherent, "Excuse me." then turn on my heel and dash back to my car. Climbing back in, I can feel his critical eyes following me. I see him quirk an eyebrow at my abrupt departure in my rear view mirror, but he just shrugs me off and walks away, shaking his head as he goes.
I need to leave. I need to get out of here before the pain, loss and regret overpower me completely and I can't drive at all.
I start the engine and floor the R8. Vowing adamantly, to let all of this go and never return here. To never let all of this consume me again.
My life has to change, I have to change.
Despite my positivity, I soon have my doubts over my conviction. As an hour down the road, with a hundred miles between us, I can feel her presence more than ever. She's with me core deep, and I know in my heart, I will never be able to shake her not matter how much I try to convince myself. I just hope that by coming here, I haven't stirred a hornets nest and made things ten times worse for myself.
No, I mustn't think like that. I have to stay positive that this will work. It has too. God, these inner berating are driving me crazy and if anyone knew how my head really worked, I would be certified. I know I have to let this go, but I can't. I know I can't continue to live with this anguish, but it's who I am, who I've become, and who I deserve to be.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
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