A Police Statement

     "I counted to four while standing on the edge.  My swimsuit wasn't like everyone else's in how every one else's was already wet from their jumps.  But my trousers were still dry and I knew they were laughing at me.
     I counted to five while clenching my teeth.  It was a high jump, but there was water below.  I knew this.  I drove past this every day.
     I counted to six when I heard them yelling to me from several feet back.
     "Come on, Christian!"  I think that was Kyle.
     "Deep breath and go, Chris!"  Definitely Sean.
     "Don't be such a pussy!"  I didn't recognize that voice, so I'm guessing it was one of the random guys that tagged along with us.
     I counted to seven, wondering how I got here.

     We were talking at lunch about how crazy it would be to jump off one of the cliff's near Lindell Beach when someone said it would send an incredible adrenaline rush.  Then someone else piped up how you don't grow hair on your chest until you've pushed your boundaries to the extreme.
That's when Sera scolded us for talking about something so dangerous.  About how we were making it seem heroic where so many people died from cliff diving; especially considering the recent deaths from a few people who jumped off the cliff's near Lindell.

     I counted to eight as I began to notice how shaky I had gotten.

One of the boys-- I think it was Kyle, he said it could be a gateway to manhood or some shit- crap, sorry.  But we all got pumped up about it and psyched ourselves up.  About two hours later we were cramming into Kyle's van with a few guys from our class as we drove to Lindell Beach.

     I counted to nine as I looked over the edge.  The waves crashed against the cliff, and I couldn't see past the thick black water.  I heard a bit of commotion behind me, but before I could turn I felt someone spin me around.
     "Hey!"  I exclaimed while trying to not tumble off the cliff.  I noticed the green eyes I was looking at belonged to Sera.
     "Are you seriously so stupid as to do this?"  Her lips quivered a bit, and she kept fumbling to keep her brown hair from being blown into her face.
     "How did you get here?  You don't drive."
     She laughed a bit, "Neither can you, but you managed to catch a ride too."
     I looked over her shoulder and noticed how restless the guys were getting.  Kyle scowled as he pointed to the cliff.
     When I didn't respond she pointed behind her, "Danielle drove me up."
     Just as she said Danielle, I noticed her short tan frame leaning against a vibrant, red convertible.  I'm surprised I didn't hear her smacking her gum before.  Then I noticed something.  They were both in their swimsuits.  Danielle was in a two-piece yellow one with large round sunglasses-- red of course to match her lipstick.
     But when I looked back to Sera, she was wearing a simple black one-piece.
     "We realize it's stupid.  But, I dunno, we thought since we know CPR and stuff we could just make sure if one of you got hurt we could help."  She shrugged, "Besides we're here now, and it's a bit of a drive to go back.  And Danielle wanted to be around boys."   She smiled at her last comment and we caught ourselves laughing at it.
     I ran my hand through my hair as I turned back towards the cliff, "Well, I'm about to jump, so if I need help I won't shout up.  But if you hear me shouting, don't jump after me, okay?"  I grinned as she nodded.
     "Just jump as far away from the cliff as you can, alright?"
     I answered by putting some distance between me and the edge.  I looked at her before sprinting to the edge.
     I lost track of which number I had counted to, so I just let myself leap off.
     And then I felt the rush as I fell through the air.  My breath became the air and my face was absorbing the sunlight.  My limbs were light and my hair was as soft as feathers.  I had to remember to position my body properly to land so I didn't hurt myself.
     And in an instant, water consumed me.  I felt exhilarated as I let myself stay floating under the water.  I felt like I was in another world.  I felt incredible and soft and peaceful.
     I slowly swan up to the surface, inhaling deeply as my lungs felt oxygen.  I heard someone yelling, but I was in such a haze that I couldn't make out what they were saying.  I looked up at the sky and noticed how the pale yellow light kissed the water so beautifully that it created a liquid gold.      A few seagulls squealed above me and I watched in awe as their wings spread wide to take the air current against the cliff.  They seemed to fly so easily.  I wondered what it would be like to fly like that.
     But then I realized I was just exposed to that feeling.  It felt like I was flying.  I want to keep flying.
     Suddenly a giant splash exploded beside me, sending me into shock as to what happened.
     A head full of long brown hair popped up gasping and yelling, "Christian!"
     I felt my stomach drop when I recognized her.
     I choked a bit on water, "Sera?"
     Her eyes widened and I saw anger flow through her as she splashed me, "Christian! For God's sake, I thought you were hurt! You didn't shout up, and you said you would if you weren't hurt, and so you were making it seem like you were hurt, and I was so scared because I didn't know what to do when I would get down here because right now I can't see a way to get back up--"  I started laughing.  Really, really hard.  "Why are you laughing?  Christian.  Christian!"  She splashed me again.
     I spoke between breaths and water, "I was in awe with everything.  The jump was incredible, I was just in another world.  I barely heard you yelling, and it was like every image and feeling was amplified.  I'm so sorry Sera."  I was laughing again.  But she sank a bit in the water and moved away from me.  I grew a bit solemn, "Sera?"
     She went to splash me again but I grabbed her wrists, which is really awkward when you're treading water.  I had to push her hands down and continue treading water.  She looked at me through her eyelashes and muttered something.
     "What?"  I swam a bit closer.
     "I said you're a jerk for making me think you were hurt!"  She splashed me before I could stop her.
     "Okay, you really need to stop doing that."  I wiped my face.  Sera glared at me and smacked her hand into the water to me, and she kept spraying the water for a good minute.  Finally, she stopped, huffing a bit.
    "Are you done?"  I asked.
    "Yes."  She mumbled, looking unhappy.
    "C'mon, let's head up.  With how long we're taking, they might be a bit freaked too."  Her face lit up a bit with hearing that we're leaving.
     We swam over to the cliff and I told her if we held on and moved to the right, there'd be a pathway that some people made so it's easy to get back up.
     When we got to the top again, the guys were sitting casually while Danielle was sun bathing.  You could see her talking to Sean, who seemed so into the conversation that he didn't even check out her body.  I gave him props.  When Danielle spotted Sera, she leaped up and shimmied over to her, all the guys swooned pretty hard that I could hardly refrain my laughter.
     She dramatically swept Sera up in large hug, "We were all so worried, Ser."  She air kissed both her cheeks and went back down to Sean.
    Kyle nodded to me, "Not so bad, eh?"  He smiled, "And you got Sera to jump, so you killed two birds with one stone!"  My smile felt a bit forced, but I asked anyways.
    "What do you mean?"
    "Everyone who's here has to jump."  I felt cold suddenly.
    "If they don't want to jump they don't have to."  I replied.  But the problem wasn't who jumped, but who hadn't.  And the only person who hadn't was Danielle.
     She waved her hand dismissing the idea, "Oh please, I'm not jumping.  I'm tanning.  See?"  The patted her towel.
     Kyle smirked, "Oh, if you don't want to jump that's fine, babe."  I saw her clench her teeth.
     "Don't call me babe."  She stood up, beginning to roll up her towel, "Well, Ser, since you've had your fun and saved Mr. Dreamy, let's haul ass and get out of here."  But as she kissed Sean's cheek and stood up-- leaving a bright read kiss mark, may I add-- Kyle stepped in front of her.
     "Go?  But you haven't made your mark yet, babe."  He smiled with his bright white teeth.
     I stepped up now, realizing how serious this was getting.  I chuckled a bit to break the tension, "Okay, guys, if she doesn't wanna jump, she doesn't have to."  I turned to Danielle, "We'll see you at school, have a nice weekend," I stepped to Sera and leaned to her ear, "And I hope to see you this weekend, maybe?"  She grinned and gave me her phone to put my number in.  As I was finishing it and Danielle was walking to her car, Kyle ran forward to her and picked her up.
     I rushed the number, gave Sera my phone back and stopped Kyle.  I noticed Sean was standing up now too.
     "Kyle, put her the fuck down.  What are you thinking?  This isn't the time, or area to be fooling around."  Sean sounded pretty scary when he was serious,
     Kyle snorted, "What, you want your little girl toy back?  Come get her."  And with that, he sprinted to the cliff edge.  Everyone was shouting now, and I felt Sera grip my arm.
     Sean, with his height, easily ran to the edge and pulled Danielle out of his arms.  He placed her on the ground and shoved Kyle in the chest, "What the fuck is your problem?"
    Danielle slowly crawled away, shaking vehemently.  I rushed to her side and helped her to sit next to Sera.  Danielle had taken off her sunglasses, and you could see the fear in her blue eyes.  Sera ran to the car and grabbed the towel, wrapping Danielle in it.
    I heard a bloodcurdling scream from Danielle as she pointed to the cliff with her sunglasses.
    I spun on my heels and saw that Kyle was standing over the edge, his back heaving from his lungs.  But I didn't see Sean.
    I whispered while stepping towards him, "Kyle?"  His back was still rising quickly, "Kyle, where's Sean?"  All the guys were in shock.  But Kyle didn't turn around.  I felt a gust of wind fly by me, and I saw Sera's brown hair flowing like the waves below as she jumped off the edge.
    "Sera!"  I was jumping before I knew what was happening, and I smashed into the water faster than a second.   I broke through the water, gasping for air, and saw Sera swimming through the waves, diving, coming back up, scanning for where he could be.  I dove under the water, trying to see him, but the water was so dark I couldn't see anything.
    I came to the surface, and panic struck me as I couldn't see Sera anymore either.  I looked up at the cliff and saw Kyle staring down intensely.  I squinted my eyes because something felt off.  But I went over to the path, to find Sera sitting, clutching her hands.
    "Sera, it's okay, we'll find him."  She shook her head.
    "I can't see him if he's hurt.  I know CPR, Chris, not how to save someone's life.  I can go call the ambulance."
    I reached for her hands and squatted in front of her, "When you go call the ambulance, please come straight down.  Take the path if you need to, but when I find him I need your help to keep him conscious."  I tried to smile, and she stood up nodding.
    "Okay.  I'll come straight down."  With that, she sprinted up the path.
    I hurried back to the water and saw that Kyle was still staring down.  I spent about five minutes scouring the water, and diving as deep as I could go.
    Then something came to my mind.  When Sera came back down-- by the path-- I asked her about what the water looked like when she jumped in after me, the first time.
     "The water was really choppy.  But not like how they were crashing against the cliff.  It was like a bulls eye."  She tilted her head, "Why?"  But then her eyes widened.  "The water.  It wasn't disturbed from Sean when I went down."  She covered her mouth as tears formed in her eyes, "He never made it to the water, Chris.  He never made it."  She was hysterical now, sobbing into her arms.  I comforted her for a moment before I had to pull away.
     "I have to find him, Ser.  Stay here.  Breathe through your nose out through your mouth."  She nodded.
    When I went into the water I looked up at the cliff.  There were a few spots where Sean could have fallen, but something told me it would be easy to see where he was.  Because Kyle was staring at him.
    It was all a blur after that.
    I'm sorry.  I don't remember anything other than climbing up the cliff, and having to push his body into the water.  Then I had to pull it by the pathway.  I had to help Sera try to help Sean.  And she cried a lot.  I began crying too.  I had been best friends with Sean for twelve years.  We used to play video games on NES when we were younger.  Especially Donkey Kong.  We loved DK.
    I held Sera because she couldn't stop crying.  So eventually we stopped trying to help Sean because he wasn't responding.  He wasn't breathing.  So we held each other as we waited for the ambulance.
   I'm sorry officer, I can't remember anything else."

To a Friend

The first time I saw my father, I was already a twenty-nine year old man with an ex wife and a daughter.
And hell, let me tell you, that wasn't no walk in the park either.  It wasn't as though I strolled up to him on a sunny spring day saying, "Care for a smoke?  Only the best for my paps."
Oh no.  It was a bloodbath to say the least.

You see, I was adopted at a young fuckin' age.  My mother died at birth, which my paps blamed me for.  Don't get me wrong, I don't blame the guy, but that ain't no reason to shun out your kid like a sack of rotten Chinese food.   Which is what he did.  By the time I was six I was so fuckin' underweight that I literally blew away in the wind.  Literally.  I was out with some crack-birthed neighbour kids, and we was racin' down the block the some fanny guy's rank old yard.  I chugged down that fuckin' hill like an unholy saint in a churchyard and when that wind picked up, fuck I was gone.  They was howlin' though.  Hell, I thought it was hilarious too.
When I was eight though, man was I fucked.  And I knew it toos.  See, my paps was a drinker.  Hard core, always drunken drunk that was so accustomed to bein' drunk that he was always sober.
But that was no ex'use of beatin' a kid.  A blood related one nonetheless.  But that sore fucker did.
There was a night when I came home late-- the streetlights were on.  That was m' curfew.  And I had screwed the fuck up.  I know that.  I triggered him.  Big whoop.
Or at least, I got a big whoop.
He unbuckled his belt, didn't bother spinning me around, and whipped me across my face, neck, shoulders, abdomen and thighs so many times with his fat, jiggly arms that I couldn't see anything but red on me.  I couldn't see anything but red.
That night I bolted to the police station.
I was rushed to the ER of course, he was placed in handcuffs.
The drunken S.O.B wasn't upset though-- the only time he wasn't upset.  He was laughing with anger.
"He's the fucken murd're!  You should've seen m'girl Nancy!  She was a pretty thang 'till he fucken came 'round!"
Nancy was my mother.  I've only seen photos of her, but she was a pretty little thing.  Short brown hair, large blue eyes.  Medium build.  She looked like a pixie.
My adoptive parents were sickly sweet though.  They've course were them gooey type.  Smilin' so big they always looked like them Asians.  Fucken' Asians.  They the type who sang the carols at christmas, and made you wear them stupid ugly fuckers.  Y'know, the sweaters.  Ughk.  Ugly little fuckers.
Anyhow, as I grew up, I became bored with everything.  In fact, by the time I was thirteen I sat in my new paps car with the windows up and engine on.
Of course, I got out before any damage was done.
Shame.
Fucken' shame.
Even as I grew up, I remembered that psycho.  I didn't see no one, because that would've seemed weak to me.  I need to emphasise it was weak to me to tell some'ne that I thought I had PTSD, because I was beaten so often when I showed even the slightest bit of weakness.  It's just how my mind worked.
As the years dragged on, I was constantly bullied at school.  I think I switched schools ev'ry year till highschool.  That's kind of when things slowed.  Because then I found art.  HA.  It sounds dumb of me to say, an' I know I ain't the best speaker, but art held my soul in ways I ain't ever had it held b'fore.  Not the sketchy-type art, with pencil, but metal work and woodwork.  I built everything I could've in those three short years.  And I was fucken' glorious with 'em.
I got so many of them awards that it seemed almost like a chore to go accept 'em.  Which sounds awful high 'n mighty of me, but I ain't tryin' to be.
Anyways, one of those award evenings, pro'ly in year twelve, I met this girl.  It sounds so cheesy when I say this, but when  I saw her it was like all the light focused in on her, and the rest of the gym was dimmed.  She had this short wavy-type bob that framed her face as it seemed to meld into her skin.  It was a light brown.  Then her eyes, oh god.  They were such a pale blue that they looked Gray.  And she wasn't wearin' those tight black skirts like most of 'em other girls neither.  No, she had on an elegant long sleeved dress that looked like the smoke that came out of people's chimneys.
And my god, when she was talkin' to her group of friends, she looked up under those thick light lashed and met my eyes.  In an instant her cheeks grew crimson, and I felt like I won a million bucks.  And then I felt like I gave all of those bucks to support fluffy bunnies who were homeless or some shit.  I felt giddy.
Of course I didn't have the confidence to speak to her, so we just kind of shared glances to each other now and 'gain.  It was like we already knew each other.
Next day at school she walked up to me.  She said she was Lucy and that she loved my pieces I displayed the night b'fore.
And I never asked her out, we just kind of were together.
That may be the mistake we made, now that I think about it.  I'd see her talkin' to some guy and I'd think she didn't like me any more.
But we loved each other.
We got married when we graduated.  We had Lillian when we was a bit older though.  We was twenty-four, twenty-five.  But then Lucy kept gettin' sick.  She had troubled with her white blood cells, so she got sick often and for long periods of time.  But it got to the point where she didn't get better one day.  Well I guess she did, because she wasn't sufferin' no more.  Lily understood right away when I told her mama loved her, but had to be free of her pain.  Lily didn't cry, she kissed my cheek with her plump scarlet lips and said sternly, "Daddy, we need to be happy that she's okay now."
Luckily she learned to speak proper b'fore Lucy passed.  See, she was an English major, and she was not lettin' her baby suffer with the way I speak.  I would smile, thank her, and kiss her.
She was twenty-eight when she died. Our little daughter turning five.
But something was naggin' me.
I would have nightmares about panic fillin' my chest.  Then I'd wake with a sweat drenched bed.  I'd fear for Lily.  I'd run into her room and cradle her into my arms, and I'd fall back asleep in her bed.
I never hit Lily.  If she done somethin' bad like runnin' out into the street full o' cars, I'd get upset.  I'd yell at her to tell her she'd hurt herself if she did that.  But I never hit her.  I guess that's a lie.  Sometimes, like with the car thing, if she kept doin' it, I had to spank her.  No whips, no belts, but I had to get across that it was unsafe.
And I hated myself for that every day after.
I realised that I had to see my pap.  I had to see where he was and know he wasn't comin' for me or Lily.
So I went to him.

I didn't mean to.  I swear to God I didn't mean to.
I found where he lived.  Some place in Oklahoma.  I drove for a few days.  I left Lily with a sitter.
I didn't want her to meet him.  I didn't want him to know she existed.  So I went up to the old, rotting door.  And this stern looking man with white hair and a wrinkled face opened the door.
     "I don't want the fucking paper, get the fuck outta here, boy."  He waved his cane at me, and I ducked out of the way.  Before I meant to I said,
     "Jacob Merth!  I'm Jacob Merth.  Your son."  He froze.  Then a sick grin spread on his lips as he gestured inside, pulling the door open.
     "Ahh.... I've been won'dren when your ass would show up."
     I don't know why I went in.  I shouldn't have.  I know that now.  But, it's too late.
     All the furniture was torn at corners, and seemed clumped in places.  The radio was on, but it was static, and the t.v was also on static.
     He sat me down at the old wooden table and said bluntly, "Come here to apol'gize?"  I felt shocked.  Twenty-three years, and that's what he asks.
     "What.. do you mean?"
     "Apol-o-gize."  His iron stare made me uneasy.  Why did I come here?  "For killin' my wife, and for getting me thrown in jail."
     "I didn't know you went to jail.  I was six and in pain.  I didn't mean to kill mum, she was pregnant and I was being bor---"
     His hands slammed on the table, "YOU KILLED MY FUCKING WIFE!"
     It happened so quickly, he pulled a large silver gun out from under the table, and cocked it back.  Suddenly I was scared for Lily.  Would she be adopted now, too?
     All the air breathed out of the house as we just stared at each other.  And before I decided to, I jumped up and smacked the gun out of his hand.  It went flying under the sofa, but as I lurched at it his cane came flying up and smacked the front of my head.  I hear a crack on my face, and with the blood pouring into my mouth I think he broke my nose.   He leaped onto me, grabbin' at my throat, but I stepped back against the wall, crushing him.  With him loose, I scrambled for th' gun, frantically searchin' under the couch.  My hand fell across the cool metal, and I pulled it out, aimed at him and shot without hesitation.  The ringing in my ears dazed me, and I found I wasn't holding onto the gun an'more.   I saw a thick red splatter on the wall, and his limp body crumpled by the table.
     I was breathing quite shallow, and suddenly it felt like I wasn't gettin' no air, which made me panic.  I got on my knees and felt vomit pour out of my mouth, onto his worn wooden floor.  The realization that Lily wasn't going to have a father any more hurt more than an'thin' I could imagine.  It hurt more than losin' Lucy.  But I was going to jail.  I couldn't cover this up, go home an' act like nothin' was wrong no more, because ev'ry thin' was wrong now.  My conscious was wrong now.
     I found the gun a few feet away, I think I tossed it out of my hands, makin' it seem like I ain't the one who shot him.  But it was me.
     I lifted the gun and opened my blood filled mouth, placing the hot end in between my teeth.  I love you, Lucy, Lily.  Please forgi------------------

Another Secret

She walked down the dim road, arm wrapped around the girl whom she was best of friends with.
Her friend held her waist, and they laughed about nothing as the last light shut its eyes.
As they walked, they spoke about the future.  They spoke about the past.
And in a moment, the light from both of their eyes became solemn, and the girl let her arm drop off of her friends shoulders.
She tied her long curly red hair up into a bun, looking at her friend's deep brown eyes.
"Is it okay, that I don't tell you everything Sammy?"
Sammy brushed her black hair away from her face, letting the brisk air lick her cheeks pink.
After a few minutes, she nodded once.  "I hope you don't tell me everything.  Because if you did, you wouldn't have anything that was truly yours."
The red haired girl felt a wave of sadness slam into her gut, and she decided to simply sit on the cold cement sidewalk.
"I don't feel like anything is truly mine anyways."  She sighed.
Sammy sat down across from her, bringing her gaze to her friend's.  "You do.  It may not seem like it, but you do.  All the feelings you get when you see the boy you fancy?  That's yours.  The inhaling of icy air when you run?  Yours.  And the way you smile when you remember something that made you happy?  Absolutely yours.  Cris, you have so much that's yours."
Cris allowed doubt to cloud her eyes.
"It just seems that whatever I want doesn't matter.  A tattoo?  My mom promised it a year ago, it never happened and now she's getting one.  My friend got one before me when I have been wanting one for seven years."  She punched the ground, "Seven years, Sam."  Her hands clenched into fists.
Sammy fiddled her hands, unknowing what to say.
"Your hair is unique."  Sam ran her hand through Cris's icy red hair, pulling it out of the bun.
"It does nothing anymore."  She brushed away her hand.
"Your eyes are stunning."  Sammy was sounding exasperated now.
"They make me look placid."  Cris snapped back.
Sammy stood up, ruffling her own hair.  "Your clothes are so different and beautiful compared to others."
Cris stood up too, crossing her arms.  "That doesn't mean anything.  Everything I wear is baggy and black.  I look like a murderer, but I can't wear other clothes that girls wear! Like crop tops, or skirts or dresses or shit like that!"  Tears were pooling in her pale blue eyes now.
Sammy screamed now, shoving her friend's shoulders, "Well I can't tell you things you want to hear until you feel better, because you won't Cris!  People can tell you you're beautiful, it doesn't make a difference!  People can tell you you're talented in art, it won't help you feel better!  I can't do that for you!  I can't help, even though I wish I could!  Do you think I like seeing you so sad that you can't hold conversations well?  That you can't eat in front of people without feeling fat?  That you can't stop comparing yourself to other people?  I can't help that!"  Sammy was sobbing now, "I can't help that."
Sammy hugged Cris tightly, crying into her shoulder.
Cris didn't speak.
Sammy whispered in her ear, "That's what you need to do.  Somehow.  Remember the little things that are yours.  That make you happy.  That will help.  You can help you."
They were silent for a long time.  Letting the cool air wrap around them.
Letting them give themselves each another moment that was truly theirs.

Their eyes were battling each other, the rage sent waves around the empty room,
with nothing in it except packed boxes.
He came home when she wasn't finished packing.
When she wasn't finished saying goodbye.
And he stared at her with anger flowing through his veins, "You've had enough time.  Get out.  Now." 
He flicked his white cuffed wrist to the elevator door, venom dripping from his mouth
like a savage dog.
And she stared at him with disdain, tears flowing freely as her mumbled words made her sound as worthless as she felt. "I'm not ready yet."
This time he began shouting, feeling his heart welting with the frustration that filled his heart
every day
for the past
few
weeks.
"I don't want to see you, Anna!  Get the fuck out, now!"  He stepped closer to her now, taking in the deep brown hair.  Instead of it being neatly pinned back, it was now wavy and full of frizz.  Her once full eyes were empty and heartless.  He felt heartless too.
She gripped the edge of one of the boxes, sputtering, "Please, I can't go yet.  How do you know--"
He gripped her arm, dragging her to the elevator door.  And with the press of the button, the elevator slowly drifted up to the suite.
She cried out, falling against him.  Feeling deflated. 
And he held this woman.
The woman who he felt in love with for the past seven years.
The woman who showed him the world.
Who showed him love.
True.
Love.
He held this woman, feeling her embrace one last time, before she would drift off like the ocean.  Being free.  Truly free.
She looked up at him, her hollow green eyes meeting his with heartbreak.
And he brushed his fingers down her face so gently,
she could've mistaken it for rain.
And then he tugged his finger against her lip, ever so slightly.
"But," her voice was hoarse, "How do you know when it's love?" 
His eyes widened, with reality.
What was love?
Was this terror of a relationship not real?
A facade?
Her pleading eyes bore into his.
But his anger still boiled.
Her rage was still inflamed.
As so when the elevator dinged, he moved Anna into the metal box.  And left before she could watch him as the doors shut.
And he poured himself a glass of whiskey.
And took it as a shot.
And as he curled up in bed
his face was burning hot
from the tears that stained his cheeks
and the pain from the weeks
he was now being torn
from what she said
about the confusion
how love felt dead
and when he woke
he had some gin
mumbling what she spoke
the chance of sleep was slim
each day carried out
little shut eye
many tears
one day
he couldn't try
so he took some pills
and lay his head
after downing some whiskey
his limbs like lead
and he wrote
I quote
"My dearest Anna,
love
is a fanatical word
because people have assumed
that it can sum up a mess
of emotions
but
do not use it in vain
do not
utter it
with uncertainty
I love you
and when I say love
I mean
you make my heart stop
when you look at me
even if you don't
it feels as though I'll vomit
and my shakiness is terrible
and won't stop for hours
even when
you're long
gone.
And I love you
because
when your name is said
my stomach
it flutters
but the problem is
I love you
to the point
where
it
physically
hurts
when I'm not around you
and when you see me
but don't speak to me
I'm getting torn a part inside
and I pray you don't see my corpse
lifeless
loveless
but
I need you to see this
because I was
angry
I still am
but it wasn't with you
it was with my pain capacity
I was broken
I am broken
and I
can't
be
fixed
because
I'll just crumble again
and Oh, Anna
dream well
live well
live free
of strain
and sadness
and anger
and restlessness
watch the ocean
I see it in your eyes
watch the ocean.
With more emotion than you could possibly comprehend,
yours,
but not yours,
Evan James Parker."

To a Pessimist

Her ashy ringlets bobbed as she skipped her tiny legs across the sidewalk.   Her little hands gripped the cottony rose bag that held her school kits.  As she made her way by each brown house with the same muddy windows and deceased grass, she hummed the new nursery rhyme she learned in school.   She stepped on cue to each syllable, giggling when she came across the tricky beat scheme.    Her bright emerald eyes scanned the sky, chasing the birds that glided through the air.  She gazed at the planes that carried hundreds of people, hoping each one of them felt like a bird.

     Her thoughts walked home with her, until she reached the large wooden door with a brittle wreathe that hung melancholy.   But her humming didn’t cease as she stepped through the door.   She slid off her small black dress shoes, tucking them safely by the door.  She turned, taking in the dust filled cabinets and sheet of cat hair bunched throughout the laminate floor.  Although she barely blinked as she hobbled into the kitchen.  Pots and filthy dishes filled the sink and counter tops, mold brewed in a stale pot of tea, broken glass was dotting the floor and the fridge was bare.  All except for a rotten apple. 

     Her feet danced over the glass as she pulled down an old box of cereal, popping a few dry pieces in her slim lips.  She spun into the living room, holding her box of cereal affectionately as she sighed into the fraying, worn couch.  She sat there for a bit, listening to the dead clock that hung on the wall.   The big hand stuck on three.  She imagined the clock ticking joyously, greeting her with every click.  She crunched the cereal melodically, humming as she kicked her feet.   Her eyes scraped the pattern on the curtains before her.  The damaged material wasn’t as pink as it used to be, instead a creamy yellow filled the shades.  She placed the box on the floor of the couch and leapt to the stereo.  She adjusted the antenna, flipping it to the current eighties mix.  She twirled and jumped, sang and belted her heart out to Michael Jackson.  But as she jumped against the ground, the stereo silenced.  Her cheeks flushed as she attempted to fix it, but she simply pulled out her homework when it became clear that the technology was fried. 

     Slight creaking sounded from the wooden staircase, and she pulled herself to her feet as she padded to the base of the stairs.  A woman who looked older than she was placed her frail hands against the railing.  Her sunken green eyes met the little girl’s, and a shaky smile formed on her mouth.  

     “Lynn dear, how was your day?”  Her legs shook as she stepped down, but she pulled the child into a weak hug.  Lynn smiled widely, pulling the woman’s hand to lead her excitingly into the living room.

     “Oh, mama I learned a new song today!  And little Jimmy—the one down the road, he tore my music sheet into confetti.”  The woman’s smile grew sad, but Lynn continued, “But don’t worry, mama.  I used the confetti to throw into the air.  Everyone was having so much fun with the tiny bits of paper that they tore theirs up too.”  Her tiny lungs exhaled, waiting for the woman’s response.

     Her bony legs moved to the couch, as she sat down the couch sunk with her.  She patted the cushion next to her, “Lynn that was terrible what that boy did.  He ruined your song and didn’t apologize for it.”

     “But he did-“

     “How could you know he meant it?  No one means anything now a day.  They’re all just a bunch of liars.”  The woman pulled her fingers lovingly through Lynn’s curls. 

     Lynn chuckled as she poked the woman’s ribs.  Her mother frowned thoughtfully.  They sat there with Lynn’s head in her lap as the woman stared at the ragged curtains.   Finally her mother spoke.

     “Sweetie, I spoke to the doctor’s today.” 

     Lynn jumped up with joy, twirling off the couch.  Her mother’s lips didn’t twitch though. 

     “They told me I’m getting worse.  We are going to have to find you a foster home soon.”  Lynn tilted her head.  

     “But did they tell you when you’d be at your worst?”  As her mother shook her head Lynn gripped her hand affectionately, “It’s okay then mama, because we still have time.”   Her mother dropped her head, the room filled with echoed sobs.  But Lynn still gripped her hand tightly, “Mama.”  She spoke firmly, “I know you’re dying.  I know we won’t be together for much longer, but with the time we do have… we can make everything special.”  Her eyes glowed as her mother raised her head to look at Lynn.  Her face was solemn.  The wrinkles creased around her eyes and mouth as she parted her cracked lips.  Lynn’s mother took in her daughter.  She furrowed her eyebrows as Lynn watched her curiously.  Usually when her mother spoke, she couldn’t stop listing off everything negative.  She expected her mother to say something about there not being a point to do anything if she was about to die anyways.  But instead, her mother lifted herself slowly off the couch, her legs shaking with all the effort.  She shuffled down the hallway, her feet never fully leaving the cold ground.  Finally, she reached the door.  With all her strength she pulled the door open.  She lifted the wreath carefully, allowing no more pines to break off.  As she turned back into the house, her eyes caught Lynn’s.  Lynn watched her mother move more than she had in the past six months.  She watched her mother limp into the kitchen, open the garbage bin and place the wreath in it thoughtfully.

     And then she smiled at Lynn.  Ever so slightly.

 

The Most Important Day For Any Woman

Her hands shook.
Not slightly.
She shook so much that you could tell from the church entrance that she was terrified.
Or humiliated.
Or angry.
She sat alone, with thousands of white ruffles cascading down the marble steps.
She sat alone, gripping the bouquet of scarlet roses as though her life depended on it.
She sat alone, not bothering to wipe the blood in her hands before it destroyed her gown.
The blood from the thorns of the flowers.
The beautiful pain that enveloped her.
That cloaked her. Her face was bare, perfectly clean of makeup to show her naturally porcelain composure.
Placid.
Her soft pink lips were parted
ever so slightly.
But no sound came out.
Emptiness rang out from the crying stained glass.
Thunder shook the building, making the crosses on the wall clatter to the floor.
But she sat on the steps
waiting
ever
so
quietly.
The clock rang then, singing with the thunder.
Her body merely shook
waiting.
She could hear the marble floor's breath as the building towered over both of them.
Protecting both of them.
She brought her head up then,
staring at the large wooden doors that lay what felt a hundred feet away.
But she knew it would take mere moments to place her cold, bloodied hand on the sterling silver door handle and push out into the storm.
Never looking back.
But she waited.
She couldn't leave.
Her heart hurt.
Her heart hurt.
Her heart hurt.
A cry escaped her lips as the bouquet slipped out of her hand.
A sound that spoke so truly
as though she were giving up
and the petals crunched against the ivory
and the blood dripped into a pool
and the leaves were limp
as were her hands.
Why were they limp?
She couldn't do this.
She couldn't give up.
She brought her hands to cradle her face.
To cradle her now free flowing tears.
To make her tears become red.
With anger.
She staggered to her feet.  Her bare feet.
The room spun
and she felt disorientated.
Why was she giving up?
Her feet stepped onto the roses
and she stood there
staring at the oak doors
whom seemed to be staring at her
mocking her
mocking her
mocking her.
Her eyes became sunken as she stepped slowly off the delicate petals beneath her feet.
As she stepped away from the beautiful red that was embedded in them.
As she stepped away from the altar.
As she stepped away from the storm inside of her.
The ruffles danced behind her as she took conscious steps to her exit.
Her hair kissed her shoulders as she rose her head
higher.
And as she reached to the gleaming silver
the storm suddenly filled the room.
The thundering shrieks
and water spun darts
attacked the marble floor
attacked the stone benches
and she saw his pleading eyes.
He saw her fear.
They stood there gaping at one another.
And he pulled her close, kissing the blood off her hands.
His gray eyes were damp
from the tears
he
was
now
shedding.
And her eyes were as dry
as the way
her
heart
felt
like
sandpaper.
And as though he was a stone
she couldn't break him down
to open
to speak
because he wasn't there
he wasn't there
no
he was
here
now.
With her in his arms
he was here
but her heart tugged
so solely to one feeling
in which would be to leave
to not hurt
but she couldn't pull away
from his tight embrace
his cologne filled suit
his pale damp hair
his sullen gray eyes
his eyes
made her sad
and she couldn't
pinpoint
why.
Until the echoing chill of the clock struck her mind.
The time.
The time.
Was gone.
She stiffened.
He let her go, asking if she was okay.
His soothing voice
silky
soft
against her thoughts.
But the time.
He asked again
with the head shaking response from her
and the simple phrase
"It's too late."
His eyes clouded.
Distraught filled the room
his distraught filled the room.
It filled
her heart
as she left
padding so quickly
that she could have tripped
over her
thousands of ruffles
but they were being dragged by the rain
the rain that had started to stop
and the thunder that turned to sparks
of light.
But she couldn't look back
because his sorrow
was hers
and it hurt
it hurt
so much
as though someone
was wrenching her heart
and there was a person doing that
it was her
she was hurting herself
why
she loved him
she loved him
and she left
why would she leave?
Because she loved herself too.
And she couldn't let her heart hurt anymore.
She couldn't let her head cry.
She couldn't let her feet feel heavy.
She wanted to fly.
She wanted to laugh.
She wanted to live.
And she couldn't
when her
entire self
hurt.

Fat.

She sat in the back of the room like every day.
She hung her head to her lap,  avoiding the people sitting around her
like
a
swarm
of
bugs.
She never spoke to them unless for group work
in which she was never chosen.
But on this day
when she was sitting
as she always did
away from view,
a boy spoke to someone else
quite blatantly.
This girl whom he spoke to
was the size of a chopstick.
But her height was that
of a paperclip.
The girl who sat in the far back spot
was very insecure.
She had a lot of muscle
which made her quite dense.
She wasn't large by any means
but her weight was much different than people guessed
because she was one-thirty-four.
And she was five-foot-six-and-a-half feet tall.
She usually wore heeled boots.
This made her roughly five-foot-nine.
For someone at that height, was healthy.
Her muscle
was
healthy.
But this boy spoke to the tiny girl
"Ew, you're one-hundred-and-thirty pounds? That's f***ing disgusting you fat a**."
"Oh my god you're so fat."
"Fat."
"Fat."
"Fat."
This tiny girl was laughing
knowing it wasn't true
but the girl who sat in the back
was hiding her tears
because she weighed more than that
she was fat
fat
fat
fat.
She felt embarrassed.
So much so
that when she got to her next class, she couldn't stop staring at the girl who had taken up modelling.
She was the girl's height.
But she was thin.
So much so
that it made the girl who sat in the same spot everyday
upset.
She wanted to be as thin as her.
Have no flab on her arms
Be able to wear t-shirts freely
Be pretty
Beautiful
even.
"You're eyes are so pretty."
People say to her.
"I love your hair."
People say to her.
"Oh wow, you have runner's legs."
People say to her.
What they don't say
is if she's skinny.
They don't say fat.
They don't say skinny.
She just
is.
And the girl in the back was torn a part
from hearing indirectly how fat she was.
And she's tearing herself up
everyday
because of these things she hears.