Andy

 

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1.

 

Grass is green, air clean, pristine.

I'm dancing, spinning, leaping, and laughing.

I roll and giggle.

I stop I sigh.

There's something by my side.

The clouds come in.

I reach to touch and it feels so cold.

The thick black plastic body bag has its zipper undone.

I look inside to see.

What have I done?

My sister lies lifeless and frozen.

 

 

“Andy, wake up! Breakfast!”

I shoot up and realize I’m in my bed at home, not in a beautiful field of nightmares.

Today is the first day of second semester. I’m a senior. I ended up taking the first semester off to try home studies. It wasn’t by choice, really. The school thought it would be best that I had time to fully grieve, since I had been near catatonic my first week back in August. It is now January.

I finally feel like I am breathing, although barely.

My sister was all I ever had. I didn’t bother making friends of my own. She is gone now. She hung herself in my closet. I blame myself. I miss her everyday. On bad days I would put on my sad-list and stare at the closet expecting her to come out and say “I”m back!” or “I was just kidding!”

Why is it that when we are at a low point, we make effort to put ourselves at an even lower point? Could it be me just punishing myself? Perhaps.

“Baby?” I hear my mom shout, trying to get me up again.

I finally get off my bed to get ready. I’m nervous and feel like vomiting. I go to my dresser and before I open it, I look at myself in my long mirror to the left of me.

All in black. My wardrobe consists of mainly dark colors. I showered yesterday, these clothes are pretty clean. I decide against changing and grab my phone and backpack.

Walking down our narrow hallway I hear dishes breaking.

My heart skips a beat and I rush to the down the hall, to the kitchen.
Two weeks ago on Christmas, my mother tried to take her life with some broken dishes. Deep cuts in the wrong places, I bandaged her up. I held her as she cried. My father was leaving her and she fell apart.

“Mom! Are you alright?!” I shout out before I reach the corner.

I see her and she is holding her face. “I’m so sorry Andy, I dropped breakfast.”

My mom… she’s so fragile. I love her so much. She does her best, but she hasn’t taken my sister’s death very well either.

“It’s alright Ma, I’m not hungry anyway.”
I spend some time cleaning it up for her and she watches me. When I am finished she hugs me and kisses my shoulder.

My mom is half a foot shorter than I am, standing at 5 foot 3 inches. I hug her back.

“I’ve gotta et going Ma. I love you. I kiss her head and grab my things. I have a 20 minute walk ahead of me to school.

 

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2.

I walk through the entry gates of the school, passing security. I take a short walk to the attendance office for my class list, and read it over.

I have ten minutes before the bell, I think. Pulling out my phone, I see it’s a little more. I take my time getting to my first class which is English.

Some familiar faces see me and give me a sad smile. My sister was well known. She played soccer, was in band, and was a member of a few clubs. She was a senior and she took her life a month before graduation.
I was nowhere near her social status at this school. It was by choice. I could have joined clubs, played sports or an instrument, made friends, but that’s not really me. I’m the kind of person who’d rather watch people, doodle, listen to music, and think about things. I like my solitude, and no one’s ever really tried to bother anyway.

Last year at the beginning of my senior year, I couldn’t even walk these halls without tearing up. The guilt was heavy and unbearable. I don’t necessarily forgive myself for what happened, but I make efforts to mentally block it out. Being here again is not helping.

Walking into the ‘A’ building, I realize I was in a bad head space. I miss her so much. It is my fault. I am pathetic. I..
I walk into the restroom, and head for one of the sinks. One was occupied by a guy brushing his teeth. I giggle to myself.

When I splash my face, the cold water feels refreshing and breaks the flood of negativity.

“Andres?” I hear from behind me. I look in the mirror to see a guy named Hector. One of my sister’s many boyfriends. My sister was no saint. She went through a lot and it affected her relationships.

I turn to face him. “Hey…” I say with not much enthusiasm.

I wasn’t fond of him at all. He was a ‘gangster’ kid who wasn’t too nice to my sister.

“Sorry about your sister. Anna was a good girl.” he tells me.

“Thanks.” I am clearly giving off the vibes that I don’t want to continue this conversation. I start to walk away and he grabs my shoulder.

“Hey, we’re not done here.” He says very cooly.

At this point I was bothered. Touching me was a no-no. It makes me feel sick, and if I’m not comfortable with you, it’s even worse.

“So your sister, she took some money from me for some… services, and since she’s dead, I want the twenty dollars back.”

“Services?” I ask a little annoyed, and a tad confused.

“Don’t act you didn’t know.” He said incredulously.

I must have had this baffled look on my face.

“She was a whore, man. She took money for favors.” He laughed.
I stood there, wide eyed, and I had no words. The anger in me rose quickly when his words settled in.

“How dare you… HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!” I shout, scary loud.

This was not only a ridiculous accusation, but to smear someone who has passed?

“You need to calm your ass down. I just want my money, and I ain't letting it go.”
I begin to walk away, and he pulls me back, I can’t do this right now. I am too distressed.
“I ain't playing yo. Even if you have to dig up her dead body, I better have my money the next time I see you.”
He walks away and I stand there until he leaves.

Did he just say that? IS HE SERIOUS?
I feel every bit of my body go into rage mode, and then I don’t remember a thing.

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3.

I come to and a conversation lulls in. I am sitting in the principals office.

I see Hector in the seat next to me angry, bloody, and staring right at me.

I feel someone beside me and it’s the guy who was brushing his teeth. He’s talking to the principal, Keiger.

“But Principal Keiger, it has to be understood that what he was saying was not right. Anyone who has recently gone through grief, is subject to extreme emotions, especially if said grief is a still a gaping wound.” The guy beside me says.

Keiger sighs deeply and looks over some folders in front of him. “I see you Hector, have had some quarrels in the past?”

Leaving his death glare at the mention of his name he says, “None of that matters though, man. He attacked me, it’s not fair I get in trouble.”

“You fought back, that’s reason enough. Violence with violence solves nothing, young man.” Said Principal Keiger, switching focus on folders.

“Andres, what do you have to say for yourself?” he looked above his eye glass placement, waiting for my response. I answered with the only thing that made sense to say.

“What happened?”

 

 

With no explanation and an in school suspension, I was ordered to take slips home after school to see the counselor.

The boy who was defending me got sent to class but not after telling me his name was Luke, and we’d speak again. Hector was in school suspended as well. They thought it was wise to keep us apart.

I reported the small office in the “S” building where I was told to shred papers, staple things, and write an essay about what happened.

My essay, needless to say, was not completed being as I have fucking clue what happened. I was told to turn it in tomorrow.

After school, I began my walk.

 

Before I could remember, I started having these blackouts. Some would end in violent things having happened, others with large time lapses. When I would ask my mom or dad about them, I would get the same type of responses. “You were tired.” “Nothing happened” Or “Stop lying, you remember everything.”

When I got to my home, I went down the hall, dumped my things and went for a snack.

I hit the kitchen and I feel a heavy blow on my back.

I stagger a bit and turn around. I’s my father.

“I heard what happened at school today.” He looked frightening.

I don’t say a word. I have no clue what to say. He scares me and I don’t want to say the wrong thing.

“HUH?! Did you hear me, you piece of shit?! WHAT HAPPENED.”

“I don’t know.” I say, almost at a whisper.

“You god damn well know! This attention, we don’t need it right now!” he shouts at me.

He is wearing an gray undershirt, and a pair of stained painters jeans. His hair is mid length, and he’s as tall as me, with a beer gut. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he had a few drinks in him right now.

“Dad, I don’t know, I’m sorry.”
“You’re always fuckin’ sorry.” He comes near me and I put up my hands in defense.

“O’ho! You think I’m gonna hit you?”

I angered him. I close my eyes tight and I am on the floor before I know it.

 

I fade.

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