No More Breath Inside, Essence Left My Heart Tonight

The Past

His black bangs brushed my forehead and cheeks, sending a ticklish prickle through my skin and I laughed. Here, with him, just us, was the only place I was happy. Here, we were free to be ourselves, free to show our scars.

“Zacky.”, I said, my voice soft as the wind carried it away. “One day, me and you, we’re going to rule the fucking world.”

He laughed somewhat evilly, which I loved. “It’s going to be one crazy, fucked up world with us in charge.”, he said.

“We’re crazy, fucked up people.” I pushed up and rested on my elbows. I stared at Zacky’s face, upside-down from my point of view, and studied him closely. I traced the line of his jaw and connected our lines of vision. “What’s wrong with us?”

He cracked a devilish smile. “Who said there’s anything wrong with us, Sadie?”

. . .

Five years from the present

Junior high was torture for me. My life was nothing short of agony, and I know you’d think saying that as a thirteen year old was a little bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn’t.

My dad left us when I was seven. So that left my mom, my twin sister Shelby, and me. Shelby resembled my mother. Blonde hair, blue eyes...just like every other girl in Corpus Christi, Texas. I, however, took after my dad. I had jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, which I must say made me look a tad bit evil. I was a female form of my father, and my mom hated me for it. She always favored Shelby over me, no matter what it was. The only thing she ever gave me that actually helped me was a drum set I got for Christmas when I was eight.

Drumming was my outlet, my life. I lived for the hours after school let out, when I could come home and retreat to the garage, which my mother was gracious enough to let me use as practice space.

Meeting Zack was a chance encounter, but it was one that would change my life forever. He had just moved from California, and I could tell by the way he looked that he wasn’t like what I had stereotyped people from California to be like. He too had jet black hair, but his eyes were the greenest of green, and that, I think, is what drew me to him. We started talking, and found our love of music, particularly that of the metalcore variety, to be a common ground. It came up that he was a guitar player, and I mentioned that I was a drummer, and so was born our band. Granted, it never contained more members than Zack and I, but to us, it was the best band in the world. Besides Metallica, of course.

Zack was really my only friend. Being the way I was, I had never attracted any other friends. But I didn’t really want to be friends with the kids I knew anyways. But Zacky was different. He was like me. And so, he became my best friend.

As our friendship progressed throughout the seventh grade, I started to notice subtle changes in Zacky. He always wore jackets, even when it was nearing eighty degrees, and if he didn’t, he wore wristbands to cover his wrists. One day I cornered him and forced him to tell me his secret. He showed me his wrists, laced with cuts, and I cried. But I understood. Because, well, I did the same thing. All the shit in my life had become too much to bear, and I had begun to take it out on my body. Zacky told me that his father had recently died, and his mother had been laid off from her job, and things were hard. He said he hadn’t told me because he though I would judge him. But after I showed him my own scars, I think he understood that I wouldn’t.

We were best friends, bound together through our pain and scars.

Senior Year

“Come on, Zack.”, I yelled. “You don’t want to be late for your first day of senior year!”

“No, I don’t.”, he agreed. He never agreed with me. There was obviously something more to his comment. “I’d much rather skip.”

“Come on! We’re seniors! We finally get to show those motherfuckers who’s boss.”

“Alright, Sadie.”, he relented. “You’ve convinced me. But only as long as we can skip Calculus.”

“I was just about to say the same thing.”, I said. I pressed the gas pedal to the floor and we sped off towards the high school.

Well...being a senior wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be. We most certainly did not get to show the underclassmen who was boss, and both Zacky and I had several detentions to prove it.

Even after five years, Zacky was still my only friend. But to me that was okay. I didn’t need anyone else. I had everything I needed in Zack. A best friend, a confident, and more recently...a boyfriend. I guess somewhere along the way, Zacky and I realized we were meant to be more than just friends, although we kept certain aspects of our friendship present in our relationship. My sister and her friends were really into the church scene, and while they were off being all goody-goody, Zacky and I would hang out in the garage, writing music and drinking Jack Daniels, or fuck in the tree house in his backyard.

Things basically stayed the same during senior year, and Zacky and I were desperately looking forward to graduation. Neither of us were going to college, and we planned to move to the middle of nowhere, where we could be alone, with no one to bother us, free to play our music in peace. Of course, some things don’t always go as planned.

Close to Christmas, I started getting sick. And I mean, real sick. I spent so much time bent over a toilet or trashcan that I think I must have set a new world record. There was a stomach flu going around, but I knew what was wrong with me was no stomach flu. I was late, and I knew what that meant. Faced with the reality of carrying Zacky’s child, I was a little scared. I was in no shape, form, or fashion ready to be a mother. After all, what good had my mother done for me in the manner of motherly love?

The only person I could trust with my news was the person I least wanted to tell it to. But Zack deserved to know. I had to choose the right time, so that Zacky would have a prime opportunity to react to this life-changing event. Of course, I had never been good at making decisions. And so I blurted out my news one day during a jam session. Zacky was in the middle of his guitar solo-which he was amazing at, I might add-and as soon as he heard, he placed his hand over the frets and filled the garage with an ugly screech.

He turned to stare at me, utter shock filling every single feature of his face. “What?”

“You heard me, Zack.”, I muttered, already nearing tears. I was very overemotional these days. The slightest thing could set off a waterfall of tears.

“But you...we...how?”

“I don’t know.”, came my whispered response. “But I really need your support right now, Zack. Because I’m really scared and I don’t know what to do.” As per usual these past few weeks, I burst into an abrupt fit of tears, letting my drumsticks fall from my hands with a clatter.

Zacky ripped his guitar off of his shoulders and placed it on the stand. He raced across the garage to my drum set and wrapped his arms around my shaking shoulders. He pulled me against his chest and I let my tears soak his shirt.

“Hey, don’t cry, Sadie.”, he whispered. “I’m here for you. I’m always here for you. And I-I promise, we’ll do this together.”

Although this did very little to dry my tears, the painful squeeze on my heart was released, and I began to feel like things might work out. However, not more than three weeks later, I awoke in the middle of the night to severe stomach pains. I knew it was far too early to be in labor-I was only roughly two months along-so that made me turn to the next choice.

I was losing the baby.

I called Zacky in a panic, barely staying on the line long enough to tell him to meet me at the emergency room before I hung up. I raced to the emergency room at nearly eighty miles an hour, and I found it miraculous I wasn’t pulled over. Although I’m thinking that since I was covered in blood and in excruciating stomach pain, there would have been no ticket involved. Surprisingly, when I walked in the sliding doors of the ER, Zacky was already there waiting. I whisked away to an exam room, where they performed an ultrasound and told us the news.

I had suffered a miscarriage. There was nothing that could be done to save the baby, and I was informed that I should just go home and try to get some rest. Of course, I was deeply upset. I guess there was something about losing your child before you even got to hold it in your arms, or tell it that you loved it, that created a deep-set pain in your heart.

Zack and I had told no one about the baby, not even our parents. As if I would tell my mother something like that anyways. Being the only ones that knew, we thought it would be easy to just forget about our unborn child and move on. But it wasn’t. I burst into tears whenever I thought about it, or sometimes for no reason at all. And now every time I slept with Zacky, the image of our baby came to my mind.

But soon something else came up that made me completely forget about the baby. One day, whilst I was sitting at my drum set, working out the drum line on the new song Zack and I had wrote, the garage door suddenly opened, revealing a very sad and somber Zacky.

“Zacky, what’s the matter?”, I asked the moment I saw his face.

He stared at his shoes. “Brent was in a car accident. He-he didn’t make it.”

“Oh, Zack...I-I’m so sorry.” I quickly stood up from my drum set and walked over to him. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No.”, he whispered. “You were just the only person I could tell who would understand.”

“Of course I understand.”, I said soothingly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” He turned over his arms so that the insides of his wrists faced up. I looked down and instantly noticed the new, fresh cuts that traversed his wrists.

My hand flew to my mouth and I returned my gaze to his face. “Oh Zack.”, I breathed. “Why?”

“I just can’t take it anymore!”, he shouted angrily. “Everyone I love is dying. I just want to die, too.”

“Zack, no!” I took his hands into my own and shook them violently. “No, you don’t! Because if you died, you’d kill me, too.”

“But Sadie, you don’t know how I feel-”

“Bullshit, Zack!”, I screamed. “You think I don’t feel trapped sometimes? Stuck here in this house where nobody loves me or cares about me? My mom hates me, just because I look like my dad. My sister never talks to me. I would be alone if it weren’t for you, Zack. Please don’t say you want to die. Just don’t.”

His gaze retreated back to his shoes. “I can’t change how I feel, Sadie.”

“Yes, you can!”, I shouted, tears now pouring down my cheeks. “Get some help! Do anything, Zacky! Because I couldn’t stand to lose you.”

“None of that shit works!”, he snapped. “And you know it! We both know it! Those damn therapists can’t change the way a person feels. They can’t understand what it’s like to be stuck in a world that hates you.”

“I don’t hate you, Zacky.”, I said softly. “I-I love you.”

“What?” My soft spoken admission instantly brought an end to Zacky’s tirade.

“I said I love you.”, I repeated. “I love you, Zacky. Please understand that.”

“Well, maybe that’s not enough, Sadie.”, he stated.

“Don’t you love me, too, Zacky?”

“Of course I do.”, he confessed. “More than anything.”

“Then promise me you won’t ever leave me.”, I begged. “If you love me, stay here. With me. I’ll help you, Zack.”

“It’s too late for help, Sadie.”, he said solemnly, and then he left.

The next day

“Sadie, someone’s at the door for you!”

Greatly hoping that it would be Zacky, I jumped out of bed and raced downstairs. But instead of finding Zack on the front stoop, I found his mother, sad-faced and crying.

“Mrs. Baker, what’s wrong?”, I asked worriedly.

“It’s Zack.”, she said. “He’s dead.”

That was the instant my world fell apart. Those two small words turned my world upside-down, packing such a huge punch that my heart stopped and I found it hard to breathe.

“W-What?”, I sobbed. “H-How?”

“Oh Sadie...” She paused for a second to gather her words. “He killed himself.”

The ground beneath my feet fell away and I sank to the floor in heaving sobs. I cradled my knees to my chest and tried to control my erratic tears. “Why? Why would he do something like this?”

“He left you this.”, his mother said. She held out a envelope with my name on it to me. It was unopened. “He said he wanted you to read this.”

I took the paper from her hands and stood up shakily. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Baker.”

“He didn’t ever say anything about it, did he?”

My breath caught in my throat. “N-No.”, I choked out. But I knew it was a lie. What was I doing? Lying to my dead best friend’s mother about the fact that her son told me he wanted to kill himself?

She nodded gravely. “I just wish he had. Maybe we could have done something to change his mind.”

I reached out and hugged Zack’s mother, feeling our pain cement us together.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Baker.”, I said again. “I’m never going to forget Zacky.”

“I wouldn’t think so.”, she muttered. “His funeral is on Saturday.”

“I’ll be there.” I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Goodbye, Sadie.”, Mrs. Baker said.

“Bye, Mrs. Baker.”

After she left, I shut the door softly behind her and sat down on the couch. I stared at the letter in my hands, the last thing I would ever hear from my best friend. I almost didn’t want to open it. I didn’t want to know why Zack would ever want to take his own life. Still, if he had wanted me to read it, there was no way I could ever refuse his last request of me.

I ripped open the envelope and dumped the contents onto the coffee table. It was only a single piece of paper, and I instantly noticed Zacky’s sloppy scrawl. I picked up the letter in my shaking hands and read.

Sadie,
I know if you’re reading this, then I’m dead. I’m sorry it had to end this way, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. And I’m also sorry I had to leave you. You were my best friend, Sadie, and if it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve been dead a lot sooner. I have to ask a few things of you, Sadie. I know you might find it hard to comply with some of my requests, but I want you to try. First, take care of my mom. She’s all alone now. She’s going to need you. Second, don’t EVER think this is your fault. Because it’s not. On the contrary, Sadie, you helped me. It was just too late. And lastly, don’t follow me. I want you to stay and try to be happy. Without me. You were the only person I ever really loved, Sadie, and I want you to be happy. With or without me. You made the past five years of my life the best years of my life, and I really can’t thank you enough. I want you to be the last thing I think of before I die. Because, no one else really deserves that. I loved you. God, I loved you. And even after death, I’m never going to stop loving you. I tried to think of a way to tell you how much I love you, and the only way I feel I can really describe it is to quote a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. You know, the one we read in english? I hope you don’t think it’s corny, because it’s really how I feel about you. Here it goes:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breadth,
smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

I hoped you like it. I hope it makes you smile the way you make me smile. There’s one other thing I want you to know, Sadie. I miss you. I know that’s hard to understand, but I do. I miss you, and I love you, and I can’t wait to see you again.

Love,
Zacky

I folded the letter up and tucked it back inside the envelope. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel about the letter. Zacky had written several times that he loved me, but if he really did, he wouldn’t have killed himself. Because when you love someone, you put their needs above your own. But maybe I was the one who needed to do that. Maybe I was the selfish one, trying to force Zacky to stay somewhere he wasn’t happy, could never be happy.

Present

I woke up bright and early Saturday morning. I dressed and walked downstairs, where I promptly informed my mother and sister that I was going to Zacky’s funeral. Of course, I had neglected to tell them of Zacky’s death, so they were surprised. I half expected my mother to try and stop me, but she didn’t. Maybe she finally realized how important Zacky was to me, and she knew I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say a proper goodbye.

Storm clouds gathered overhead as we stood in the cemetery, listening to the pastor drone on about Zacky. But I knew he could never really know Zacky. After all, how could words even begin to describe the feeling I got when I was around him? How could words describe his touch, his kiss, his smile?

Several days after the funeral, sitting alone in my bedroom, I penned my own note. Because what I had said to Zacky was true. When he took his own life, he took mine along with it. And regardless of what Zacky wanted, I couldn’t stand to be alive if he wasn’t here to suffer with me. So I signed my note and placed it on my dresser where I knew my mother would find it, when it was already too late.

I forced several ibuprofen down my throat and lay down in my bed, clutching Zack’s picture to my chest. I soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep, one from which I would never awaken. I wasn’t scared to die. Because I knew that when I crossed that point of no return, Zacky would be there waiting for me.