Fiend

Not a day goes by that the scene of my mother's death doesn't cross my mind.

It took a few days for the realization to set in. I was still in the hospital. The doctor told me that I would be hospice for 3 months. The accident really dismantled my body. I was unable to walk due to a broken left foot and trauma to my right knee.

However, my mother's body had taken most of the damage. She had a broken nose, right leg and right hand. She also suffered trauma to the head. They said that she would have been in a coma for at least a year. But she suddenly stopped breathing and the doctor tried everything he could to revive her.

I was in the bed right next to hers. The more they tried to resuscitate her, the paler she became. I was devastated as I watched my mother's life slip by right before my eyes. I silently cried at first. And when the doctor finally said “I’m sorry”, I began to wail.

I hate remembering that day, October 21st, 2007.

But how can you stop the thoughts?

I couldn’t sleep. I had all of this pent up emotion that I had to release. So I wrote about what was bothering me. I written some letters to my mom that she would never read, some “fuck you’s” to my father for the person he was, and started a story about a happy girl with the perfect life who I wished had been me. When I finally tried to sleep, the clock said it was seven am. It was time for me to get up for school. I wanted to crawl back into bed and never see the light of day. But I got up as if it was like I was forced to go to school that day on account of my mother's soul urging me to go.

Before I knew it, there was an obnoxious sound of a car horn blaring through my window. It was Aaron, my friend for those past four years. I never told him about what happened to my mother. That’s how hard it was to talk about it.

Once I was done ignoring him for a few minutes, he began to yell up to me. I rolled my eyes out of annoyance and rushed over to my window. I yelled at him for being so obnoxious this early in the morning.

When I was getting ready to run out the door, I didn’t acknowledge the fact that my father was sitting at the kitchen table. He had his newspaper and breakfast right in front of him. It’s not like my dad truly cared about me. He never once asked me how I felt after mom’s death. He barely accepted me as his "pride and joy, his creation". Father, my ass.

I ran over to Aaron's car where he was ready to embrace me in a bear hug.

“Hi sweetie!” He said as he lifted me off of the ground.

I laughed, “I can’t breathe.”

“So dish, what did you do this weekend?” Aaron asked as we got in his car.

“What do you mean?” I did the usual shit and he knew that. I went to work each day for 8 hours and slaved away to be hit on by sleazebags and butch lesbians.

“Did you go out? Have some fun? And by fun, I do not mean sitting at home watching re-runs of the Golden Girls all day with some chocolate ice cream.”

“Well then, no I did not have fun this weekend. What about you?”

“Oh you know, I just sat around because my best friend works too much and my parents were out of town. You could have totally came over and drank with me but no, work is more important I guess.” Aaron shrugged.

“I’m sorry. I need to make money if I plan to move away in a few months.” I did feel bad for Aaron but I was truly set on getting the hell out of New York, New York. I wanted to move somewhere very far away where I could be at peace, start over.

“Why do you want to move away so badly?”

I didn’t answer and thankfully, Aaron didn’t ask me any more questions.

Although it left us with an awkward silence and the annoying songs that H107 always played on their station, I couldn't tell him about the event and I wouldn’t tell him that it’s because I just needed to experience something new. Something that would make me feel whole again.

After those few minutes, we arrived at Tomilson High. Stepping out of Aaron's car and facing the people who are my classmates made me want to jump right back into it. It was your own personalized hell. I especially did not want to see Cassandra, one of the most popular girls and head cheerleader, anymore.

“Hi freaks, how are you? Oh wait, I don’t really care how you are.” Cassandra laughed.

I shot her a fake smile and walked away. I didn’t have time for the petty bullshit. I was there for 7 hours a day, 5 days a week. I was not there to socialize or make new friends. I just wanted to finish my work, get my diploma, and tell everyone to “go fuck themselves”.

As I walked through the front doors, I heard the jock guys yell “hey Jason!”

Jason walked through the doors the same time as I did. It's as if I didn’t exist to Jason. We’re just strangers stuck in the same places, at school and at work. He had everything going for him. Nice car, football scholarships to schools like Harvard and Yale, and was working his way up to managerial position at Chi Chi’s. While I sat here with no car, no college acceptances, and a low paying waitress job that I was struggling to get by with.

“Doesn’t his smile make your insides melt?” Aaron sighed.

“Um, no.”

“But how?”

“I think Mr. Dientman’s smile is better than his and you know that is saying something.” We finally reached our lockers, conveniently located next to each others.

“What the hell is your problem, Marina? Why are you acting like such a…bitch lately?” It’s like Aaron didn’t want to say that tainted and bitter word.

“Because I’m tired of the bullshit.” I took out my book bag and calculus textbook from my locker. I slammed the door shut to let Aaron know that our conversation was over and that I also needed to be left alone.



After school, I arrived at Chi Chi’s for my shift. It’s a bar and grill restaurant, giving people the best of both worlds but giving the servers nasty customers but great tips (if you know how to work it). Aaron and I got over our little incident from this morning as he came in to get free food.

I suddenly stopped our conversation as I heard the door bells ring. In came Jason’s friends, the popular football jocks. They had done nothing but bully me at school. As much as I didn’t want to see them or pass by their presence, it was unfortunate for me that Jason and I’s serving areas were right next to each others.

As I figured, Jason sat down with them to chat. But as I was taking my customers order, I heard them talking. And it was about me.

“I feel bad for you dude.” Sounded like the quarterback for our football team.

“Why?” Jason asked.

“Because you have to work with marinara sauce over there.”

“Boy she is ugly!” Another one shouted.

“Her breath probably smells like it too!”

I usually didn’t let their words to get to me. I bit my tongue as much as I could handle. I turned around and surprisingly for once, I stood up for myself. I told them to “shut the hell up”. Their stunned faces was all I needed as a response. But before they could backlash, I ran out of there.

I ran as fat as I could to escape. But I don’t think it was about escaping the situation, it was more so my viscous thoughts. The anxiety and mind games I had been dealing with for several years had started to rush back. I wanted to stop the voices in my head. If I couldn’t stop the voices, I had no control over the pain I would feel and deal with later.

I started to panic. I needed a cigarette and I wanted to scream. Before I knew it, I was on my 6th cigarette? Who knew, I lost count. I kept telling myself I would get through it. I wouldn't succumb to the thoughts, the voices. I was so carried away in my “positive reinforcement" that I lost track of time. All I asked was to be left alone. Why couldn't I get that wish? Was it too much to ask for?

“Hey! Hey!” I heard Jason yell. I ignored him and returned back to my “positive reinforcement”.

“Will you answer me? Why the hell aren’t you inside? I’m waiting on your tables you know. So I got twice the work in my shift." I don't think he noticed that I absolutely did not care.

I laughed. And I think that set him off, “oh so this is funny to you? Get the hell back inside marinara sauce!”

I stood up. I took off my name tag and apron and handed them over to him. He gave me a questioning look.

“Tell Dennis I quit. Go find someone else who will put up with your bullshit.”

“You can’t quit!” He yelled at me.

“I just did.” When I walked away, I stuck my middle fingers up in the air as a salutation to him. And man, it felt good.