2
Change of Plans
"I'm sick, Mom! I'm not doing anything!" I yelled through the walls surrounding me. I lay in my bed on a Sunday morning. The day was meant to spend partying with my friends, but that changed once I had woken up and could barely breathe out of my nose.
"Do you know how many times you tried pulling this sick act off? It's not going to work this time," she called from the kitchen.
"Mom!" I yelled, straining my throat followed by a good number of coughs. She popped her head through the doorway.
"Fine," she sighed, "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Do you need anything while I'm out?"
"Whatever."
"I love you!" she shouted. When I didn't reply, I heard the door shut with a click.
Knowing I was alone, I shot out of bed and ran into the kitchen. That's when I realized I could slide on the tile floor with my fuzzy socks. For almost half an hour, I slid across the tile floors singing into a hairbrush pretending to slide across an invisible stage.
After my entertainment, I felt depressive. I had moments where I just felt like I wanted to cry for no apparent reason. I walked over to my full-length mirror sipping out of a water bottle. I looked in the eyes of a stranger. I leaned in closer, pointing out every flaw I saw. How could people say that I'm pretty? Although I have to admit, my blemish-free skin is a blessing. Using the brush that was still in my hand, I tried taking out the knots from my dark brown hair, the bleach blonde highlights standing out that I had dyed myself. I felt ugly and disgusted with myself. I stared at the bright blue eyes that stared right back at me. That's pretty much the only thing my mother and I had in common, our eye color. We never had gotten along, even before things got out of hand. I've always been rebellious towards her. I wished we were closer, but after every fight we've had, no thought like that came to my mind. "What's something you cherish about your daughter?" my aunt once asked my mom during Thanksgiving Eve. All eyes were upon my mom waiting for her to answer. She just leaned back in her chair and shrugged, "I don't know."
Later that night, my mom and I had another one of our fights that seemed to never get old. I stood at the doorway screaming in her face.
"This is why I'm never home! This is why I never want to be here! I don't want to live with you!" I screamed, not even caring that every word that came out of my mouth made my throat feel like hot rocks were being shoved down.
"I'm trying to tell you the right thing! You won't listen to me though! You never do!" her eyes were welling up. Tears were already pouring out of mine.
"Just leave me alone, okay? I don't want you to tell me anything!" I ran through the hall heading to the only place I felt comfortable in this house—my room. "I hate you!" I shrieked before slamming the door. I jumped at the fact that glass shattered all over the floor from the sudden shake of the door. The picture that hung on the wall of my parents and I was now broken. It lay on the floor as I did nothing but kneeled over it. Our family was officially broken, physically and mentally. I collapsed on the floor sobbing uncontrollably. My tears fell on the memory and began to blur the picture of our once perfect family. I felt glass underneath me and immediately I jumped up picking up a few pieces of glass and paced to the bathroom that was connected to my bedroom. I filled the bathtub half way and turned the shower on. Cold water rushed on my body as I sat in the tub still being filled by the cold shower water. My clothes stuck tight on my body becoming soaked. Without thinking, my shaky hand brought the biggest piece of glass to my wrist. I closed my eyes, making more tears flow out on my cheeks also filling up the tub by each drop that fell. I felt the burning sensation in my wrist as I forced myself to make a slit. I was now sitting in my own bloody water, completely staining my white tee.
I started to panic on how much blood I was really losing. I began feeling dizzy. I could barely keep my head up without feeling the need to pass out. I closed my eyes and laid my head against the wall.
"Mom…" I moaned for help. "Mom," I tried speaking louder. I heard banging along with my mom screaming for me to unlock the door. "Don't let me die," I pleaded to myself repeatedly in my head. I couldn't hold my head up any longer. My head banged hard onto the side of the tub. I couldn't hear my mom screaming anymore. I couldn't see anything but darkness. I couldn't feel the deep cut in my wrist, but instead, the throbbing pain in my head. Everything went blank.
I opened my eyes feeling confused as to where I was. I lay on a hard white mattress with bars on the side. I felt like a prisoner in bed. I glanced down and noticed IVs attached to my arms.
"Get this off me!" I screamed pulling all the wires to take the IVs out. Nurses immediately barged in to hold me down.
"Miss, please calm down. You're going to hurt yourself," I heard one firmly say. I continued to fight until I realized I was never going to win. Laying stiff on a hard mattress is harder than it sounds. All alone with nothing to do but watch the TV with the limited number of channels, smelling the sickness of other patients…This was not where I belonged.