Victim Of Circumstance

He was too early, she was too late.

10/23/11

Ambulance lights fill the neighborhood. Concerned neighbors crowd the sidewalk with their plush slippers and crusted eyes. Police stretch that infamous yellow tape across the front door. Something bad happened in this house; a boy took his own life. It was late, around 11:00 on a Sunday night when it happened. Priorities kept the family from noticing anything wrong. How could they though, things are never obvious. Once the boy had run out of tears, his anger tore at the world around him. Things weren’t fair, he knew this. He couldn’t handle this. The anger eventually boiled itself down into a sludge-like tar that coated the inside of his ribs. It burnt at his insides so terribly. The pain prevented the eating, and the fear assisted the final mission. With the barrel of his fathers 6 shooter the boy cracked open his ribs and emptied himself of the sludge. The blackness spilled out onto the basement cement as the boy finally felt relief. The father will drink more now. The mother will gain weight and attend church. His siblings will lay a band aid over this scar and slowly feel the sludge boiling up inside of them.

The mother is escorted from the house on an officers arm. There is no emotion in her eyes. The fathers hairy stomach protrudes with a swollen liver for all the neighbors to see. A team of paramedics appear from inside the house with a look of disgust. No hope, bring in the coroner. A small blonde girl makes her way through the crowd of middle-aged robes. Her baby blue eyes look all around for something. Confusion sets in when she realizes she is not looking for something, but rather someone. If she’d only have known about his love for her sooner, things might have been different. His message was clear on everything; he loved her, he always had. Circumstances had kept them apart, but now she knew. Confusion turns to panic. She pushes her way through the police tape.

Where is your son, Where is your son? The mother sees her, but the mother herself is not there. Perhaps it’s from a lifetime of tormented love that the mother decides to lift her hand at the girl. She’s old, and has loved before. This girl is young, and will never love like this again. She’ll look back on this love through a summer porch and a sweating glass of tea, and she’ll close her eyes. A tear will run down her check. Her child will ask what’s wrong, and her baby blue eyes will open towards the sunset.

Perhaps the mother wants revenge; a person to blame. Or maybe she does it to keep love alive. She lifts her hand at the girl, and in it lays an opened bloody envelope. The girl doesn’t understand, but takes the letter. Her name is on the front. The mother is carried off, for she no longer has the will to walk.

The girl reads the letter and falls to her knees. Streams of tears flow down her face. She doesn’t want to believe, it isn’t fair. A body bag is wheeled past her and solidifies the feelings. How could he do this, there was so much time. Her tears form a puddle underneath her, and soon she is neck deep. The letter has so many words written on it. So many beautiful words of love. His love is eternal, it says. Her vision blurs from the tears, and soon the letter is floating away from her. She reaches for it, but the tide keeps washing it further and further. Her stokes become more desperate. She swims with all her might, yet the letter is always out of reach. Out of breathe and out of time, she stops and watches the letter float away into oblivion. Her baby blue eyes close and a stream of tears run down her face. Only these tears are not happy tears of past love. They are tears of pain. A boy took his own life tonight. The boy she could’ve loved took his own life tonight. The sludge starts to boil inside her as she wonders where he took it to.

Author's Note

Written in 40 minutes, at 3am.