Tacenda

Everything changed when Alaska tried to commit suicide.

I can’t seem to forget the moment when I walked into the bathroom, I saw her in the bathtub lifeless, curled up into a ball, her eyes all swollen and red from crying for days, the empty bottle of sleeping pills nearly slipping away from her loosened grip. Everything was a haze after that moment, I remember screaming out to Mum to call the ambulance, I remember shaking Alaska, yelling out her name and begging her to wake up.

I couldn’t bear to lose her, Alaska is my only sister.

Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the waiting room, twirling my thumbs around one another. I could feel the sweat trail down my spine. The sounds around me were blurring out, the constant ringing of the telephone, the footsteps of people, the chattering, and the sounds of doors opening and closing. All I could think about was Alaska, I needed her to stay.

“Zachary,” Mum came from around the corner, “We can see her.”

Mum held my arm and we both walked to her room down the hallway, when we got to Alaska’s room, she was fast asleep. We both sat down beside her bed, Alaska had bandages around her wrists. I intertwined my hand with hers, my thumb caressing hers. Her long nails painted blood red, against her pale white skin, that was as white as snow. Mum and I waited and waited. I started sobbing, someone so young and beautiful doesn’t deserve to go through this type of pain.

It was 3AM. Mum had fallen asleep on the extra bed on the other side of the room. I couldn’t sleep without Alaska saying she was OK. A sudden movement caught my eye, Alaska’s eyes started to open slowly then she looked at me and gave me that Alaska smile that means ‘you don’t know me at all, you never will.’

“I’m back where I was.”

“Yeah, you’re back in hospital.”

“No. In here.” She shook her head, “In here,” she pointed towards her head, “I can hear the voices again.”

“I’m here, Alaska.”

She seemed to be so happy. I remember she used to laugh all the time, I would see her green eyes light up, the times I used to brush her blonde hair that would go down to the bottom of her spine. I never noticed how upset she really was. She was good at pretending to be OK. Behind that innocent smile of hers, lay words left unsaid. Words of longing, love, anger and hate, all repeated inside her head.

When she started getting worst, she shut everyone out completely. There were the days she would never come out of her room. The times she would come down for dinner with Mum and I, she wouldn’t eat. She distracted us with her ways. We thought she was OK.