Forever

I was in and out of the psych ward for an entire year. Just when they thought I was better, I would try to string myself up on the metal bars of the exposed ceiling in my basement with a belt… That is until my parents had people cover it with dry wall. I had laughed out loud when they told me that they’d done that. Did they not think I knew of other ways?

My entire personality changed when…he left. I was cold and dead. I didn’t show much emotion anymore. How I saw it, I had no right to be angry. I was just…alone. Luke didn’t even seem to want to be around me anymore, and he and I used to be inseparable.

Just like I was with Twitch…

I was lying on my bed staring at the ceiling as I rubbed my forearms. I traced the dashes of raised skin where I’d dug a blade deep into earlier that month. I didn’t dare touch my wrists, which I’d freshly cut about a day before. The only reason why my mother had not known about them was because I threw a fabric band over them to hide the gashes and sop up the blood.

It’d been six weeks since I’d been in the hospital, and I really did not want to go back. If I didn’t succeed the next time, I would make sure that I would not get caught until I did it right.

A single tear had escaped my eye as I remembered what I’d lost to get me in that horrific state of mind.

“Marie! Come down and get some lunch!” my mother hollered. Groaning, as I had no appetite, I hoisted myself up and padded down the steps and into the dining room. When he heard me, my father smiled and motioned for me to sit beside him. I looked across the table at Luke as my mother placed a bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of me. When my brother met my eyes, he seemed so melancholy. I didn’t like it.

“Lucas, what’s wrong?” I asked him. He only shook his head and grabbed his fork. I didn’t let it go, “Seriously, why were you staring at me like that?”

My mother sat down next to him as he responded quietly, “I just worry that when I look at you, it’ll be the last time you look back.”

At that, I was washed over with guilt, yet I portrayed it as anger. I should’ve showed my sadness, but as I’d said, I wasn’t the same. I threw down my silverware and violently pushed my chair back to stand up. Without a word, I tried to storm off, but my mother caught me…

By my wrist.

My sore, aching wrist.

I cried out and everything seemed to stop as my mom loosened her grip, but didn’t let go. Silently, she stood and lifted the pink band to reveal the disgusting wound. My heart broke when she choked back tears at the sight. Shocked, she’d released me and I bolted to my bedroom to sob in embarrassment and shame. I didn’t want to live, no, but I didn’t want to see my mother hurt, either. I was just too selfish to grasp that by killing myself, I would kill her, too.

I heard my mother’s howls and someone trying to calm her as I rocked myself back and forth on the large, rose colored bed. After not even a minute, a knock sounded on the other side of my door. My brother didn’t wait for my answer but came in anyway to gently crawl onto the bed beside me and wrap me in his arms. I leaned into him and coughed, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I had a lot to be sorry for. I was sorry that I hadn’t trusted Twitch, that I lied to my family and myself, I was sorry I hurt them and most of all, I was sorry that even as I broke down in my younger brother’s arms, I still had no intention of living.

Somehow, we’d ended up lying down and I fell asleep with him still by my side.



I spent the next three months in a juvenile correctional facility in Arizona. I know, sounds bad, but I wasn’t in the main wing. I was in a suicidal prevention sector called the Sunrise Center.

Yes, that was its name. Sunrise Center. Its motto was, “Where the darkest night ends and where your bright future begins”.

Gag.

It wasn't as bad as I make it out to be, though. I liked my nurse quite a bit, and that helped make the stay bearable. Her name was Jillian and she liked to read to me, not like you would read to a child, but more in a calming way. Due to a lot of unexpected commotion in the sector, as I was used to wards of ten or so people rather than some one hundred and fifty, I would often get panic and anxiety attacks. So, in order to help me stay in control and peaceful, she often read me poetry or segments from the Bible.

When I was released, I still didn’t value my life very much. Nonetheless, being at the facility gave me a new perspective that I hadn’t had before. Nurse Jillian was not only a caretaker, but she was a friend, too…Unlike at the hospitals, where none of the staff ever tried to connect with the patients. They just did what they had to do, said some kind things and left. But not Jillian. She liked to make sure I felt safe and comfortable and that made a pretty big impact on my life. I began to see that as much as I wanted and craved for my Twitchy, there were enough people in my life who cherished me to pacify my need for him…if not make it go away, eventually. It was an epiphany, of sorts. I had finally understood the pain I had caused and how much I had ignored the love all around me. My parents adored me so much, showering me with affection and everything I could ever want, but I had always dismissed them because I’d had Twitch to love me. I thought I would have him forever, like he told me I would. He was all I needed. I hadn’t realized that I was surrounded by these caring souls who were so concerned of my well-being…And I’m not just referring to my parents. I had my brother, my aunts and even my teachers.

I was just so blinded by Twitch that I hadn’t even noticed them.

But as crippling as the blindness was, I’d do anything to have it back.

While I didn’t want to forget him or ignore the fact that no one would compare, I faced up to the reality that I needed to move on, like he wanted. Perhaps it would not be soon, but I prayed that it would happen one day, somehow. Even then, however, I knew he'd still be my only love...I just hoped I wouldn't allow it to drag me down later on in life as it had then.

I had thought a lot about him while I was at the center. Before, I just pitied myself and wallowed in my despair. Never once did I think about how he would feel if he were to ever find out about my death. He told me in that letter that if I put myself in dangerous situations he would have left for nothing…He asked me to promise him that I’d keep myself safe, and I had not.

Far from, actually.

I never wanted to break a promise to Twitch and without realizing it, as I was too deep in sorrow, I had done just that.

I would fight on…for him.

It would suck, but I’d do anything if he wanted me to and he’d requested that I take care of myself—So, I would.

Back home, my family was relieved by the turn of events. To them, it seemed like I’d really improved. In a way, I had…but not like they thought. Despite my revelations at the center, I was still very much in pain. I put on a show and allowed myself to fall in routine as time went by. Thanks to moving, once again, I was given the opportunity to a fresh start where I wouldn’t be classified as that “twitchy girl” or that “suicidal chick”.

In all honesty, the change could be for the better in terms of my popularity in school. No, I didn’t want to be some queen bee, but I was sick of being an outcast. Even so, I still didn’t want to be noticed all that much...Just enough so that I wasn’t considered a freak. I didn’t want to be close with anyone outside of my family…Not when I’d been close with Twitch. No one could replace him, and no one would even get to try.

I was his and always would be, whether he knew it or not.