Status: Active. Updated fortnightly
Your Inaccessible Light
I Find Myself Strangely Addicted
The next couple of days are okay. The rumours about Ronnie and I fizzle out fairly quickly. After all, news of Ronnie sleeping with someone isn’t exactly ground-breaking. Thursday evening is when things start to go downhill. I sit in my room doing some schoolwork and my mind drifts to this weekend. I agreed to hang out with Ronnie and the guys because of three reasons; the first being that I have some stupid crush on him or whatever it is, the second being that when I’m around him, I feel something. Although I can’t explain what exactly it is I feel, I know I’d rather feel that that nothing at all. I’m sick of the emptiness I’ve been feeling recently. The final reason is that he reminds me of Austin. Because of that, I should probably avoid him, because I know it will only prolong my grief and make things harder, but I simply can’t. I find myself strangely addicted to Ronnie like Austin was to drugs. I know it’s sensible to stay away from Ronnie, but like Amber said, sensible isn’t fun.
Now though, I am seriously regretting that decision. I start to panic. I panic because I am certain the guys will be getting high. I’m not usually the worrying type. I’m usually carefree and impulsive, but I have a weakness. I hate having a weakness, let alone one that seems to affect me so much. The only reason I was looking forward to moving away from Florida was to get away from that, but even in Nevada it still haunts me. Wherever I go, I’m surrounded by drugs and reminders and weakness. Suddenly the memories come flooding back. Just one tiny memory at first, and then another, and then all the rest follow suit, slowly then all at once. A thousand bittersweet memories overwhelm me, as they often do and I feel my whole body start to tremble. I collapse onto the bed, curling up into a ball and masking my sobs with a pillow. I miss him. I miss Austin with every piece of me. I know it takes time to overcome grief, but I still miss him just as much as I did the day he died, if not more. Somehow I can’t see myself ever overcoming the grief, not now or ever. A terrible thought strikes me. I fear having the same fate as Austin. What if I can’t cope with the pain? What if I die like he did? I can’t let that happen. He told me to do the opposite of what he did. The guilt eats away at me every second. I could have helped him. I could have done more. I knew he had a problem so I could have stopped it before it got out of hand. I could have saved him. I smile a weak smile at the thought, but in a flash that thought is gone, and I’m faced with the cold hard reality. It’s too late because Austin’s dead and no one knows the truth except me. No one knows what really happened and no one ever will because that’s what Austin would want, right? He wouldn’t want me to tell anyone. I failed him in the worst possible way. The least I can do is keep his secret, even if it kills me. At least then we’re even.
For a long time, I lay there sobbing, letting the thoughts take over, until it gets to the point I feel I might be physically sick. I rush to the bathroom just in time to spew the contents of my stomach up into the toilet. For a few seconds, I am calm, but just as my breathing starts to return to normal, more tears begin to fall. I hate that I’m so weak. Austin always told me I need to find the strength he never could. Austin always told me to never go down the route he did, to never let the past ruin my present, but so far I’m failing him. As always. I hear my mother coming up the stairs to bed. My father is still at work. I cover my mouth with my hand, holding in my sobs so my mother does not hear, not that she would care anyway. She doesn’t care enough to help me the same way she didn’t care enough to help Austin. As long as we appear as the perfect family on the outside, what’s on the inside doesn’t matter. As long as we can plaster on a fake smile and hold it together, it doesn’t matter that we’re being torn apart inside. Sometimes I wonder if my parents would even care if they lost me too. Would they finally realise they fucked up or would they just move to a new place and pretend as though I never existed? That’s what they did with Austin. No one in this town knows of him and they never will. The three of us never speak of him and aside from a single shoe box of belongings in the attic, there is no evidence of his very existence. Twenty one years of life with nothing but a single shoe box to show for it. Then again, I wouldn’t call what he endured a life.
I crawl from the bathroom back to the safety of my bedroom. I don’t have the strength to stand up. Pulling myself onto the bed, I tug the blanket tightly around my shoulders and cry myself silently into a nightmare filled sleep.
Now though, I am seriously regretting that decision. I start to panic. I panic because I am certain the guys will be getting high. I’m not usually the worrying type. I’m usually carefree and impulsive, but I have a weakness. I hate having a weakness, let alone one that seems to affect me so much. The only reason I was looking forward to moving away from Florida was to get away from that, but even in Nevada it still haunts me. Wherever I go, I’m surrounded by drugs and reminders and weakness. Suddenly the memories come flooding back. Just one tiny memory at first, and then another, and then all the rest follow suit, slowly then all at once. A thousand bittersweet memories overwhelm me, as they often do and I feel my whole body start to tremble. I collapse onto the bed, curling up into a ball and masking my sobs with a pillow. I miss him. I miss Austin with every piece of me. I know it takes time to overcome grief, but I still miss him just as much as I did the day he died, if not more. Somehow I can’t see myself ever overcoming the grief, not now or ever. A terrible thought strikes me. I fear having the same fate as Austin. What if I can’t cope with the pain? What if I die like he did? I can’t let that happen. He told me to do the opposite of what he did. The guilt eats away at me every second. I could have helped him. I could have done more. I knew he had a problem so I could have stopped it before it got out of hand. I could have saved him. I smile a weak smile at the thought, but in a flash that thought is gone, and I’m faced with the cold hard reality. It’s too late because Austin’s dead and no one knows the truth except me. No one knows what really happened and no one ever will because that’s what Austin would want, right? He wouldn’t want me to tell anyone. I failed him in the worst possible way. The least I can do is keep his secret, even if it kills me. At least then we’re even.
For a long time, I lay there sobbing, letting the thoughts take over, until it gets to the point I feel I might be physically sick. I rush to the bathroom just in time to spew the contents of my stomach up into the toilet. For a few seconds, I am calm, but just as my breathing starts to return to normal, more tears begin to fall. I hate that I’m so weak. Austin always told me I need to find the strength he never could. Austin always told me to never go down the route he did, to never let the past ruin my present, but so far I’m failing him. As always. I hear my mother coming up the stairs to bed. My father is still at work. I cover my mouth with my hand, holding in my sobs so my mother does not hear, not that she would care anyway. She doesn’t care enough to help me the same way she didn’t care enough to help Austin. As long as we appear as the perfect family on the outside, what’s on the inside doesn’t matter. As long as we can plaster on a fake smile and hold it together, it doesn’t matter that we’re being torn apart inside. Sometimes I wonder if my parents would even care if they lost me too. Would they finally realise they fucked up or would they just move to a new place and pretend as though I never existed? That’s what they did with Austin. No one in this town knows of him and they never will. The three of us never speak of him and aside from a single shoe box of belongings in the attic, there is no evidence of his very existence. Twenty one years of life with nothing but a single shoe box to show for it. Then again, I wouldn’t call what he endured a life.
I crawl from the bathroom back to the safety of my bedroom. I don’t have the strength to stand up. Pulling myself onto the bed, I tug the blanket tightly around my shoulders and cry myself silently into a nightmare filled sleep.
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I know nothing particularly interesting happens here but I feel like it's important for you guys to find out more about Noelle's past and her feelings so you can understand the character more cos if you don't understand the main character, the story will kind of suck for you...QOTD: What do you think Austin's secret was?
Ella x