Falling to Pieces

The day Kyle was coming brought a light in the dark shadows I had seen when I’d awaken from another nightmare.
“How’s mom?” I’d always ask.
His answer was always the same, the truth, though it was far from comforting.
“She’s alive.”
Kyle had never been one for lying, even if it made you feel better. He always told me(when we would have our little chats)that the truth may hurt, but lies just rub salt on the wound, while in the long run, the truth may be the remedy you need.
“But is she ok?” I would continue.
This time Kyle found a remedy to my nightmares, my anxiety.
“I’m coming out there, ok?”
It was so selfish of me to allow him to leave mom’s hospital bed to come and comfort me. However, the pain was too much and I needed something to hold on to. I needed a steady rope to hold.
Joel called every day when the week ends interrupted our school days. I wondered if he sensed that my dark eyeliner attitude was more than just some teenage rebellion. I wished that he wouldn’t though, the last thing I needed was someone’s pity on me.
The day Kyle was flying in, Thomas was at a meeting and I was alone to my thoughts. I’ve learned that it is very dangerous to let myself think. I found that if I am constantly doing something, it would keep my mind busy enough to ignore those kinds of thoughts that brought out the Amy Lee in me.
I grabbed my lighter and pack of smokes and headed outside. I walked down the street and found my usual alley and took a seat against the wall. I knew it was completely stupid to be alone in New Yuck, but I loved it.
I stuck the cigarette in my mouth and lit it, blowing out smoke. I leaned my head against the wall and sighed. I took time to imagine the smoke running though my lungs, poisoning everything in its path. Everything was poison to me.
I still remember mom’s words. I can hear her inspiring massages in the back of my mind, but it’s hard to have motivation from them. I’m too numb, from the smoke or the concept of death, I don’t know.
“I’m glad to see you haven’t got addicted like I have,” Joel’s mocking voice sneered.
I looked to my left and saw Joel smirking at me. He came over and sat next to me.
“You look like crap,” he mumbled looking at me with a slight bit of concern.
“Gee you’re inspiring,” I hissed, “Go talk to suicidal kids with your words of wisdom. Maybe you’ll push them over the edge. Besides, the world is over populated.”
“Wow,” he said, holding his hands up like I was going to shoot him, “Chill out.”
I glared at him and inhaled smoke till I coughed.
“OK,” he said, “First you need to stop smoking,” he pulled out the cigarette, “It’s bad for your health.”
“You’re the one who…!” I began.
He cut me off. “Second, you need to tell me what’s wrong.”
I sighed, missing my poison.
“My mom.”
He waited for me to continue and when I didn’t he said, “That doesn’t tell me anything.”
Tears burned my eyes; I turned so he wouldn’t see. Then the tears fell. Crying hurts so much worse when you try to stop the tears from falling.
“Rose?” He asked gently.
When I didn’t answer, he pulled me into his arms and stroked my hair. Despite the fact that he smoked, he actually smelled good. He didn’t over kill it with cologne, but he still smelled amazing.
My tears stopped after only a few moments in his arms. It was a bit weird crossing our usual boundaries.
“OK Rose?” He asked.
“Yeah,” I said, not moving, “I’m fine.”
As if he had just now realized how close we were, he stiffened.
“I have to go,” he said. He got up and walked to the end of the alley, then looked at me.
“Will you be alright?” he breathed.
“Will you?” I asked.
He smirked then turned and walked out of sight, leaving alone and poisonless.
* * * *
Joel flew through the door and slammed it behind him. Lindsey looked at Ryan. “Ryan, go in your room, Ok?”
Ryan always listened to Lindsey, so he quickly ran in his room.
“Joel, talk to me, what is it?” Lindsay asked cautiously.
Joel’s anger got the best of him; he flung the coffee table across the room.
“Joel, love,” Lindsey said softly.
He stared up at the ceiling, his hands balled up into fists.
Lindsey walked up to him.
“Why do the innocent always have to get hurt?” Joel growled.
“What do you mean?” Lindsey asked.
“I mean that I found Rose in an alley looking like she was about to slit her wrists. And she couldn’t even tell me what was wrong before she started crying,” He said, “Why her? What has she done to deserve those tears?”
“I don’t know, Joel, but maybe you should leave her alone,” Lindsey whispered, “I don’t like seeing you like this. You look like your gonna slit your wrists.”
He let out a hard laugh. “Yeah, too bad I wouldn’t be able to die,” he grumbled.
He walked into his room and since they don’t have locks, he stuck his chair under the knob. He sighed and went to his dresser drawer. He pulled out his sketch pad and pencils and sat on his bed. He tried to remember her face exactly as it was in the alley. Her wild blond hair was coming out of her pony tail and into her eyes. Her eyeliner had smeared, leaving black smudges under her eyes. And then he tried to capture the look. He couldn’t explain what that really meant. It wasn’t the physical appearance of her, but the emotional appearance, if that made sense.
Maybe you should leave her alone.
He knew that that was impossible now. It wasn’t like he could just shut the door in her face. Of course it wasn’t his responsibility to help her either. He could just be with her without trying to help her. That wasn’t possible now either He couldn’t just sit back and watch her pain.
He worked on her sketch for a long time before he decided that his anger had subsided enough that he was pleasant.
He walked out of his room and into the living room. Lindsey was sitting at the counter with a news paper and a highlighter.
He put his arms from behind her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered in her ear.
Lindsey put down the highlighter and leaned back against him. “You’re always so upset these days.”
“I know, and it’s not your fault. I don’t need to be taking it out on you either,” he said softly.
She held up the newspaper. There were yellow circles in random places.
“Think I could be a secretary?” She asked.
“No, you can’t sit still very long. And do you even know how to type?”
Lindsey frowned. “No.”
“What else do you got?”
“Um, a plastic surgeon…”
* * * *
Here I stand
Empty hands
Wishing my wrists were bleeding
To stop the pain from beating

There you stood
Holding me
Waiting for me to notice you

It was a song called “Red Sam” from the band Flyleaf. In the song it talked about God and how he saved the singer from committing suicide, but to me the savor was Joel. I know that it may be wrong to replace God with Joel, but its more that Joel is real, I can touch him, see him, hear him.
And if there really was a God, why did he allow bad things happen to good people? Why is he taking my mother away from me? Why do I live with this sadness that refuses to ease?
Kyle said that faith believed in something you can’t see. How can I put my trust in the invisible when I barely trust those who are mortal and visible?
Religion was never meant for me, it only made me feel more afraid of my fate, of what was going to happen to me. Thus, I believe that if I were to take myself out of the situation, then I would be in charge of my own fate, not God, not Kyle, not Joel.
And then I was scared that I had let myself trust him when I knew so little of him. And I wondered why I had trusted him so quickly. Maybe it was that he was in pain too, he could vaguely understand what I am going through.
“KYLE!” I yelled.
Kyle smiled and walked into my room.
“I’m surprised you aren’t reading,” he said.
I smiled and set down the broom. Then I ran to him at full speed. He picked me up and hugged me so tight I thought he’d break my ribs.
“I’m so glad to see you Rose.” He said.
I smiled as he put me down. “Me too.”
He stared at me for awhile.
“You look awful,” he said.
“How’s mom?” I asked.
He sighed and sat down on my bed. He just stared at me for the longest time.
“She’s getting worse,” he said.
I stared at him with wide eyes; everything in my mind went blank.
“Rose, hon, please don’t cry,” he pleaded gently.
I didn’t realize I was crying till he pulled me in his arms around me.
“She cant die,” I sobbed.
He sighed, “We cannot change fate.”
I closed my eyes. “But your ‘so-called-God’ can.”
“Rose,” he said, “Even in hard times, you need to have faith.”
I pulled away and walked to the window. The sun was setting, sending a gold light on my face. It seemed as though the sun was setting on my life. The stars would come out soon, but I wouldn’t see them tonight. The sun’s rays are too bright.
I walked away from the window and pulled out my box of smokes. Kyle eyed my curiously. I pulled out my lighter and lit it before sticking it in my mouth.
“Smoking can kill you,” he noted.
I remembered what Joel had said: “You smoke just because, I smoke to die.”
I exhaled smoke. “Good.”

I knew I was dreaming at the moment. Mom was sitting next to me; just talking. In the dream the dream there were no sound, but I knew it was a happy moment. I smiled and began to talk to her soundlessly, she returned the smile.
Then the sun that was behind her fell and she grew very pale. Her eyes grew dazed with dark circles beneath them. The sky was pitch-black with no stars.
“Rose!”
My eyes flew open. Kyle had me by the shoulders.
“Kyle she’s dead,” I sobbed.
He pulled me securely in his arms. “You’re dreaming.”
I glanced around. “Go back to her Kyle.”
“Why?” he asked.
“She needs you.” I told him, ignoring my own needs.
“I need to be here.”
“Pray for her,” I begged.
He shook his head. “I’ll pray for you.”
I shook my head, “I don’t need God.”
“You need faith.”
“I have enough. You need to be with her,” I argued stubbornly.
He pulled back enough to look at me. “You need help too.”
“I’m not dying.”
He sighed.
“Let me stay with you for a week. Let me spend time with you.”
“Ok,” I said, smiling.
He picked me up then tucked me in my bed. Then he lay next to me.
“Remember when we did this as kids?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, “when I couldn’t sleep you’d come in and we’d talk all night.”
He laughed. “You’d beg me not to leave.”
I laughed as well.
“Do you like living with Uncle Thomas?”
I shrugged.
“We don’t really talk much,” I said, “Actually we barely see each other.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, well Thomas was never one to be sociable. What about school?”
I paused. “School is interesting.”
“Interesting?” He picked out the word.
“I met a friend.”
“A boy?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? What’s his name?”
“Joel Carters,” I said.
“Sounds like a druggie,” He laughed.
“Don’t be mean. He’s …nice.”
“And does this nice friend smoke too?”
“Maybe,” I giggled.
He laughed at me again.
Laughing sounded right, natural, better than poison; something I haven’t done in a long time.

“I can’t breathe any more
The heart is too sore
The sun sets on childish dreams
Unleashing nightmarish screams
That-”
I turned to the door.
No one came in.
Joel didn’t come in.
The bell rung and I walked to the back of the school. Some small part of hope in me expected to see him there. That hope died when I sat down alone.
I pulled out a cigarette.
“You look depressed.” Joel’s voice said.
I looked up and smiled. He sat next to me and pulled the cigarette out my mouth and stuck it in his.
“What did I say about smoking?” He asked.
I laughed. He seemed to be back to normal, sarcastic and far away from me.
“My brother’s in town,” I told him.
I don’t know why I felt the need to tell him this. We weren’t really that good of friends, but I felt this impulsive closeness to him, like I could trust him with my life.
“Older?” he asked.
“Yeah. His name is Kyle.”
He nodded.
We sat in silence for a moment.
“He’s not, you know, going to kick my ass?” he said after awhile.
I smiled. “I doubt it.”
However, Kyle might hit him with a Bible; knock some holy sense in him.
“Where’ve you been?” I asked.
“Visiting some relatives,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, feeling stupid.
“Why?” He asked grinning at me, “Did ya miss me?”
I giggled and stared at my shoes as my face grew red.
“I’m touched,” he said putting his hand over his heart.
“Oh shut up,” I laughed, hitting him playfully.
He laughed and put out his, well my, cigarette.
“I’ll make you a deal. We both stop smoking. I look after you, you look after me.”
“Deal. But you’ll cheat.”
He faked gasped. “What?”
I shrugged. “Just a feeling.”
He shook his head still grinning. “I doubt it. You look so over stressed.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah well.”
I turned my head and gazed at the sun. It seemed to be waiting to set on my one moment of decency.
“Hey,” he said, “Are you alright?”
I looked back at him. His eyes were violet today, and incredibly sincere.
“I’ll live,” I said wishing it wasn’t true.
He scrutinized my face, searching. Then as if he saw what he had been looking for he said, “Yeah, you will.”
I smiled wanting so badly to fall into his arms. I felt my face grow red again.
“What?” He chuckled.
“Nothing,” I lied defensively.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Nope.”
He leaned in till he was only inches from my face, crossing our boundaries. I had trouble breathing.
“Tell me,” he breathed.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” I whispered.
He searched my eyes again. I thought he was going to kiss me but he leaned away.
“Yeah, I guess I am too,” he chuckled.
I let out a shaky breath.
I really needed to smoke.