Silent Wishes

It's been exactly three months, two weeks and five days since it happened. I wish I could say the days went by fast but then I'd be lying. Every day I wake up thinking it was all just a dream, that he’s going to burst into my room shouting about how I made him late for school and threatening not to drive me, but when I open my eyes and see his Micheal Jordan poster looking down at me I realize that I'm in his room, sleeping in his bed… that’s when I start crying.

My days are usually the same- or at least I think they are. I feel so numb all the time, as if a piece of me had been ripped out- like I’m not whole, I can hardly tell anymore. If it was up to me I'd just lie in bed all day and do nothing, but after a week had gone by my mother half dragged me out of his room and made me sit with her at the breakfast table, but she didn’t try starting a conversation till after a month I think that’s probably when she noticed I couldn't talk.

Time goes by without me even noticing, it's like I'm there but I'm not really there. My mom stopped talking to me (why bother if I can't ever reply), she doesn’t even look at me, I‘m a living reminder of her dead son why should she? It's as if I'm not even there. I can tell that she hates me for what I did, I sometimes wonder why she hasn’t kicked me out yet.

Every day, like clockwise, when it's too dark to stare out the window I walk back to his room like a zombie. As soon as I open the door I'm hit with a wave of his smell, it gets fainter as time passes.

I shredder when I remember the first few weeks… The smell had been stronger then, I could hardly breathe. It was as if the room has been sucked out of oxygen, I had to put my hand to my throat to try and control my breathing and then I ended up in the bathroom hastily splashing my face with cold water. Eventually my breathing turned back to normal and I looked up thankfully to see the bare wall in front of me that once held a wood framed mirror. I can't bare look at my refection that looks so much like him, so I either covered or took down all the mirrors in my sight.

And once again I find myself crawling into his bed and wrapping the dark blue blanket around me so tight it almost feels like I'm being hugged. Almost.

And along with the night comes the nightmares, and at that moment I wish more than ever that I could scream, scream so loud that my throat would hurt. At least then the pain would get out of my chest, but I couldn't, I just sit there watching helplessly while the tears kept falling.



"Get off me you pig!" I shouted as I shoved a guy off me. You'd think he'd get the idea after I turned him down when he offered me a drink- for the fourth time- but no, somewhere in that pea sized brain of his he thought that meant he could feel me up, that crazy rotten dog!

"Okay-y, o-kay! No ne-ed to shout!" he hiccupped, obviously wasted, but remained where he was.

I ignored him and continued flirting with the hot middle aged bartender.

"So," I said while twirling the black cherry stem in-between my two fingers. "What's a cute guy like you working here, shouldn’t you be on a cover of some magazine?"

So I was sugarcoating it a bit, sue me.

He laughed and said, "Why do you happen to own a magazine company?"

I giggled flirtatiously. "Wouldn't you like to know?" And then took a sip of my drink.

Just as he opened his mouth to answer I felt a tap on my shoulder. Thinking it was that pervert who wouldn’t leave me the hell alone I held out a nicely manicured finger and said, "hold that thought."

I turned around ready to yell out a not so appropriate curse but stopped when I saw who it was.

"Lucas!?"



I wake up with a jolt, breathing heavily. My heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it might jump out of my chest. I put my sweaty palm on it hoping to slow it down. I look around hopefully, a small smile forming on my face, but when I notice where I am it disappears as fast as it came. Again tears find their way down my cheeks. I can’t control myself.

No! Why not me? Why him? I think silently.

It happened again. The dreams. Well, actually it’s just one dream. The same one every night. Why does it have to be so real? Was this gods way of punishing me for all the horribly things I had done? Because it’s working, oh yes it’s working. I’d do anything, anything to have him back. Please god, please bring him back to me!

I fall back onto my pillow drenching it with my never ending tears. I still have a couple hours untill mom comes and drags me out of bed for breakfast. So I just lay there the tears never leaving my face as stare at the white ceiling.

To me this is just another day, filed with nothingness, of the rest of my life.