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Me: Tink, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how hard this is for you. Please know that I'm here for you whenever you need me.
I hit send, hoping my words bring her some comfort in the midst of her pain.
TWELVE
ONE MONTH LATER
SCAR, AGE 17
That fucking noise.
The constant beeping of my alarm clock jolts me awake from my slumber. I groggily reach the nightstand, my hand fumbling for my phone. In a moment of frustration, I throw the phone across the room, shattering it to the ground.
Outside my bedroom door, I can hear my mother's hushed whispers, her voice barely audible as she talks to someone. Despite my grogginess, I strain to listen, but when no one responds, it tells me she's on the phone.
Life has been shit since Seth died.
She's hardly ever home anymore. Mom works double shifts, six to seven days a week, as a nurse in the emergency room.And when she is home, she’s been drinking her favorite wine more at night to help her sleep.
I'm stuck at home trying to survive, going to school, and working part-time at Dottie’s.Even though I have been sleeping more, my body doesn't feel refreshed.
It's an episode waiting to happen.
The soft knock on my door interrupts the thoughts running a marathon in my head.
I know it's Mom without having to look.
She's been coming into my bedroom several times a day to ensure I'm alive.At least, that's what I think she's doing.
"Honey, are you going to get up today? It's a beautiful day."
No, I think but don't say. The days have been darker since my brother left me.
"I can make you a sandwich."
I shut my eyes. I'm not even hungry; haven't been for days.
"We can go to the art museum if you'd like."
Tears seep out from my clenched eyelids.
Seth would take me to the museum on rainy days. He knew staying in on gloomy days was one of my triggers.
He knew more about my bipolar disorder than I did.
He made sure I took my pills on time.
He knew my triggers and would be there to help control my episodes.
He was my rock.
My best friend.
And he left me to pick up the broken pieces of my heart alone.
I refuse to repair what he broke.
He. Left. Me.
