Half Dead

"Violet, are you alright?" the stupid boy makes the knots in my stomach grow.

I shake my head and scoot away. I set the tablet back into his lap and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding away. My stomach is sick. I don't want to look at him any longer.

"Violet, I... What did I do?"

You did everything! You're making me feel sick. You're making me feel the way I don't wanna feel. Go away. Please go away.

"Violet?"

Get your hand off my knee and stop calling my name!

"Did I say something?" he crawls on his knees to me, "Tell me?"

I push him away with one hand and shake my head vehemently. Go away! I shout in my head. Go!

That's when the emotion overcomes my body. I feel dizzy and my throat, it feels hot and sizzling, "Go." comes from my mouth.

"Go. Go, go, go." it tumbles from my lips, my throat.

I'm speaking. In over a year, I'm speaking. It took a summer, fall, winter, spring, another summer, and finally another fall for me to speak. My vow is broken. I'm talking. 

Two letters, one word, a verb.

"Go. Go." it comes out like a child's taunt, "Go."

I can't see his face, the sight is stomach knotting, "Go? You want me to go?"

I can't move my head, only my mouth, "Go. Go. Go."

"I don't... I don't want to."

I finally look at him, and my face is leaking. I'm crying. And it takes a moment for me to realize I'm sobbing. 

I'm sobbing! I can finally sob! I'm sobbing!

"Violet, please, what's wrong? Why do you want me to leave?"

I can't remember how to speak anymore words. Even go sounds foreign on my tongue. I long to say more. To say get out of my face, stay away from my park, never sit by my tree again, stupid boy.

But all that comes out is; "Go. Go."

I can't shout it. It doesn't sound like a command, either, it's just a word. When you say a word so many times it loses it's meaning.

"Go." it could mean stay.

It could be slang for please stay, stupid boy, don't go.

It could mean no, stay.

"I'm not going anywhere, what's wrong? You're talking."

No shit! I'm saying go, I'm fucking sobbing for christ's sake!

Deep, deep, deep into the pits of my gross, damaged stomach, I want him to stay and the very thought circulates my brain. I want to share this moments with someone who isn't my parents. It's a special moment that I want to keep to myself.

Glory Hallelujah, I'm sobbing. I wish she could see this. To choke on her words. To choke on her fucking gum. 

"Go," it doesn't mean go away, it means fuck you, Gloria!, "Go," fuck you too, Raven, "Go," fuck the world.

"Violet, let me take you home." the stupid boy breaks my angry sob, "You're crying real bad."

"Go," I don't want to go, I mean, I can't go home, "Go," they'll know I've spoken. 

"I'm not gonna go. I'm taking you home, or I'll call your parents. Do you have a phone?"

I shake my head, and then I grab his tablet, writing with mistakes as the tablet corrects me; I DOTN WANT TO GO HOMETHEYLL KNOW I'VE TALKED I DON'T WANT TO RUIN THE MOMENT DOT TELL THEM OLEASE

The mistakes don't make it impossible to read. The stupid boy nods and stands, taking the tablet with him, and then helps me up. "What's your number, I promise I won't tell them."

I type on the tablet as he holds it and give him my number. He nods again and miraculously, he's the first boy to put his arm around my shoulder. But my first time is short lived when he lets go. I think instantly that he's disgusted, but I'm wrong. He takes off his hoodie and puts it around my shoulders, "You're freezing," he says.

I give him a nod and slip my arms into the sleeves. Again, his arm wraps around my shoulders adding warmth. I can feel the corners of my lips tug upward and I smile.

I'm sobbing and smiling. I'm crazy.


My mom made tea. And when she does the entire house fills with the scent of honey. I hate honey. I hate the smell and I hate the sight. I even hate bees.

But, I don't really have a say in the matter. Even if I did shout "Go" she wouldn't understand. I bet that stupid boy would.

After my mom had come and gotten us, the stupid boy explained my freak out and asked to see me home. He wanted to make sure I was alright. I am, just a bit on the nutty side.

He's downstairs, smiling, probably, with my mom and shoving snicker doodle cookies down his throat. My mom is probably telling stories about me, she always can't wait to tell people -that don't know me- about me. I don't understand. I'm really nothing to rave about.

I am up in my room, back facing the entry with a pillow tightly pressing to my ears. I hear the blood rushing throughout the veins, making me think of the ocean. I wish to float away.

I had tried that once. I went to the beach with my parents when I was 13, and it was the first time I ever thought about escaping life and not dying. I thought about going away, getting a new identity and never coming back. I thought I'd just go online, meet a predator and have him take me away. But, at the beach, I decided to float away; I didn't get far, because my dad was a few feet away and pulled me to shore to eat.

I never tried it again, after that day, I didn't want to go anywhere lovely again. Even to that beach.