It's been two weeks since the death of my family. Two agonizing weeks. Currently, I'm sitting in the rec room of a psych ward. So far I've been going to group and private therapy sessions. My Doctor says I'm handling everything substantially well, minus the incident that occurred hours after being given the news.

No one has dared to mention it. Being kind enough to let me grieve in peace. I wasn't in my right mind, I know this much. My physical injuries were a large scar on my right cheek, a gashed knee and a weird puncture wound on the juncture of my neck and shoulder. The last of which was odd and still unexplained. It wasn't deep yet it wasn't shallow.

'Huh, kind of like the emotional scarring I will forever have'

My thought is interrupted by my new best friend and an annoying asshat, whom I have come to know as Patrick. Patrick is approximately 6'1' with light brown hair and hazel eyes. He's adorable, for an overgrown child. Having just tried to kill himself a few week earlier, I'll be honest, you would never be able to tell.

"Hey Shortstack" he says in a joking manner.

"Who you calling Shortstack, troll!" I try to keep a serious face.. And fail almost 3 seconds after, erupting into a fit of giggles. He laughs along with me. Patrick is the kind of guy that you can never not laugh and feel giddy around. He's calm but he tends to be quite a clown at times. He's the brother I never wanted.

"So whats going on with you this week Cutie Pie?"

"Not much Pat, I'll be out of here tomorrow. My uncle slash godfather is apparently adopting me and taking me from NorCal to a rainy city in Washington"

"That sucks, no sunshine man"

"Not really, I enjoy the rain. It's always calming and it helps me sleep. I sleep better when it rains"

I only realize the mistake I made after the words left my mouth. Before I can even react he belts out;

"BABY! ITS 3AM I MUST BE LONELY" By now I have my head in my hands trying to breathe. Once my breathing has returned to normal I collect myself.

"You would pull a Matchbox 20 reference wouldn't you? I'm so proud of you" I smile at my friend. He smiles back.

"I know."

*Time Goes On*

A couple hours later I find myself with my best friend with a fake I.D and 200$. Now you may ask why do I need both of those things? I am at a local tattoo parlor in L.A. It's the last thing I want to do here, make a memory that will last forever. It's a memory that will always be fresh in my mind but I want it to be with me physically. A token, if you will.

Patrick is going with me simply because I know I need him with me. Not so he can hold my hand but more so for moral support. I'm planning on getting a semicolon behind my ear and the tree of life with the names of my parents and sister on my left side.

I am eager to have this all done and over with since time is scarce. As I wait patiently by the front desk to get my card swiped and to have the sketches that my artist drew to show me. I fidget on my feet trying to calm my already hyperactive state and I look over to Patrick. He is smiling at me or should I say my giddiness. He chuckles to himself and looks over to the side, then nudges me and points over to the hallway.

I look over, my artist reappears and hands me the I.D. He then motions with his hands for us to follow him back into the room where all the magic happens.

"I chose the best three that I sketched, I figured you may want this to be a little more sentimental with the tree, the semicolon will be the easiest one and also the quickest" He says matter-of-factly.

I look over the three and start to analyze them. The first looks too deathly so that one is out. The second is pretty but there's a certain element which just rubs me the wrong way. The third, however, is all black with some shading. It looks almost historical, like something you'd see in a museum. I smile brightly, and hand him the third choice. He smiles back and says;

"I should've guessed you'd pick this one" I chuckle and he gets right to work. I hear the needle buzz and it puts me on edge but after a while it fades out. He starts on my smaller tattoo and MY GOD it hurts like a bitch. But it's over in the blink of an eye, okay maybe not so much but I was zoned out so that what it felt like. Next He asks me to roll up my Henley, I do as I'm told and situate it above my bra line. It starts On the outer part of my rib cage and ends the same way on my back.

After a few hours of sitting straight up and a needle poking my sides I am seriously sore. Not to mention tired. I pay 170$ and leave with my thanks as me and Patrick make our way back to the hospital. We are driving in my car. It's my Santa Fe. It makes the long rides more comfortable. A refreshing silence is upon us; we just sit back and enjoy it. I should be weary of being in a car because of the accident, though I'm not. And I guess that's a good thing. For once I'm feeling at ease, perfectly content.

By the time we are back into the ward and saying our goodnights. I head to bed carefully moving my body as to not hurt myself trying to maneuver my way into my nightshirt. Finally I get to bed and before I know it I'm fast asleep.

I must be dreaming…

But it's not like the dreams I normally have.

I can see nothing above me, the sky is pitch black even with the contrast of the bright green trees.

I look around, trying to place where I am.

It hits me like a ton of bricks.

This is where I used to play with Bella in the forest when I'd come to visit her family.

Although I don't remember it being so sinister..

The wind starts to blow and its almost deafening.

The next thing that happened was truly terrifying.

I never saw anything but what I heard scared the living daylights out of me.

"I'll be waitin' for you, Darlin'"

I shot up from my bed, wishing I hadn't done so. My ribs ached at the sudden movement, my chest heaved, breathing was ridiculously erratic. Once I calmed myself down I looked over at my bedside clock. 8:47, just 13 minutes away from our wake up call.

'Damn' I mentally curse. I get up from my bed and walk over to the mirror on the wall. I lift my shirt up to inspect my tattoo. It's wrapped in clear plastic wrap and it's really bloody. But sure enough the tree is magnificent and the names are written in beautiful cursive. It reads: Eliot, Michelle and Brielle. Father, mother and sister. The painful reminder. I will never have them here with me but I will always carry them with me, so long as I live.

I go through my daily routine, brushing my teeth in the bathroom, combing my platinum blonde hair into a high ponytail and finally my makeup. Just a small amount of eyeliner and mascara to compliment my greyish-blue eyes. I've always loved my eyes. My parents had brown and green eyes but my sister had my mother's eyes, which were green. My dad's we're a brighter brown, like sunshine through a glass of whiskey. I apparently inherited me eye color from my late grandmother on my dad's side. Just like me she was the only one that had them out of her siblings. I was closer with her than anyone else in my family.

After packing all of my belongings and putting on my navy blue Henley, favorite pair of light wash skinny jeans and my black combat boots I am set to go. I walk over with my suitcases to the front of the center to see Pat and Uncle Charlie conversing. They look over me and Charlie rushes over and engulfs me into what I would call a "papa bear hug". He pulls back to give me a once over before he speaks.

"Jesus kiddo, you're all grown up. You must be quite the heartbreaker, huh?"

I laugh before I say "Not really, Pops" recalling the old nickname I had given him the times I visited.

He smiles back but it's a sad smile..

"I can't tell you how sorry I am Eli, your parents were the best friends a guy could ask for and I hadn't met Brie, yet"

I internally wince. It's tearing everyone up, I have to nip this right in the butt. "It's okay old man, my parents always loved you and Brie would've too. They're in a better place".

'Jesus, what the fuck am I saying? When did I get so whimsical and shit? I don't even know'

I look over to Patrick who takes his hands out of his pockets to bring me into a hug. He kisses my hairline and pulls back, looking into my eyes. "Text me or call me whenever you need me. Even if you don't just do it. I'm a paranoid bastard so please don't make me drag your ass down here, alright?"

I confirm with a nod and a smile. I reach up to kiss his cheek. He and Charlie take my bags and put them in the car. I get inside the passenger seat and buckle up. Charlie gets into the driver's seat of my car and turns the ignition. I wave goodbye to Patrick, a sad smile playing on my lips. He does the same. I continue to look out the window. Hoping the trip will be over soon enough. But then I realize I'm starting school this week.

'Fuck'.