If No One Will Listen

A young girl is stuck alone in a world of hate and tears. As she tries to hold herself together, she is faced with various temptations that could change her life forever.

You look straight at me even though I can't be seen.  I know this, yet I still shudder at your penetrating gaze.  It's as if you know exactly where I am.  But that also couldn't be possible.

Your eyes are wide, imploring me to show myself.  In that instant, I realize that you somehow know I am there.  I wish I don't have to be invisible to you, but for now I am to remain hidden.

Your bottom lip quivers, and you turn away somberly.  I can see from your bowed head and hunched shoulders that you are thinking about me again.  About how I left you to stay with my friends for the summer.  I had to leave early, and I know you blame yourself for the reason.  You think you should've come along.

I watch as you slump down on the edge of the pool.  The pool is deserted except for you.  No one even knows you are here, and they would never guess it.  You are sitting there in your T-shirt and shorts because you don't own a bathing suit.  You've never been fond of water so I wonder why you're inching closer to your greatest fear.

And then you mutter a name that hasn't been spoken in awhile.  A name that is forbidden.  My name.

"Savannah..." you moan, and then you break down, endless tears flowing from your eyes like waterfalls.  "Why?"

 

Later you return home and lock yourself in your room.  Again you think about me.  You think about what things would be like if I hadn't abandoned you.  I'm your older sister.  I'm supposed to look after you.

You flop onto your unmade bed and stare at the ceiling.  For hours you lay there remembering when you begged to come with my friends and me to the beach.

"Savannah, why can't I come with you?" you ask me.  You are only nine years old at the time.  Your eyes shine with such desperation that I can hardly bare to say no.  You have that same pleading look when you want something as you do now that you're twelve.  It's nearly impossible to resist your demands.
            "I'm sorry, Autumn," I answer you.  And I am sorry.  I can't let you come though; Mom would never allow it.  I tell you this, and you bite your lip to keep from crying.  I reach out and wrap my arms around your tiny body.

I gently comb your blond hair with my finders.  You love it when I play with your hair.  You sniffle, then look up at me.  "Can you take me next time?" you ask quietly.

"In a few years," I promise.  "Probably when you're twelve or thirteen."

"Okay," you agree, smiling.

That makes me smile too, but little do I know my promise would be broken.

The next day I pack my belongings and head for the door.  I'm supposed to be at Ashlyn's house in 15 minutes, but I know it'll take at least 10 to say good bye to you.  You don't want me to leave even though it's only for the summer.  I tell you I'll call you every night, but that doesn't make much of a difference to you.  You look up to me, and to be honest, sometimes even though I'm 14 I have to look up to you as well.

You tackle me from behind, throwing your arms around my waist.  I stumble, then spin around to face you with a playful glint in my eyes.  A single tear slides down your cheek, but you brush it away hurriedly.  As if you are afraid of being thought weak.

"I'll miss you too," I murmur into your ear.

"Don't go."  Your voice breaks, but you continue.  "He's coming back."

I freeze.  Without even the mention of the name, I know you are talking about Joshua.  Mom and Dad see the 18 year old man and his father as family friends.  You and I see him as the opposite.  We're both scared of Joshua although I pretend not to be.  It is always Joshua, never Josh.  I learned that two years ago when he last visited.  I was an innocent girl that thought he needed a nickname so I called him Josh.  It was the biggest mistake of my life.  He screamed at me for an hour about how I was an ignorant fool and he was worthy enough to be called by his full name.  He was far better than me and always would be.

This among other things has traumatized me as I know it has you.  I'm glad I'll be missing my friend's visit but I worry about you. I don't know that you can cope with him without me.  I think about discussing this with Mom but decide against it.  I want to go to the beach, and I know if I share my concerns with her, she will make me stay behind.

Instead, I promise you I'll come back early if things get bad with Joshua.  "I will always be a phone call away, and I'll find a way to get back if you really need me," I add.

We hug one last time, then Mom drives me to Ashlyn's house.  Ashlyn and my other friend, Katherine, are waiting for me.  We're all uber excited about our beach trip, but I'm preoccupied with thoughts of Joshua hurting you.  I wonder how long he is staying.  I had meant to ask you, but I forgot.  I heave a sigh.  I'll call you tonight, I decide.

And after a full afternoon of laying in the sun and wandering along the water's edge, I finally dial your number.  Well, the home phone number actually since you are too young to own a cell phone.  I think you are mature enough but Mom won't listen to either of us.

On the first ring, you answer.  It is as if you had anticipated my call.  That or you were sitting next to the phone all night.

"Hi Autumn," I greet you.  My friends are in the other room with their eyes glued to the TV so they don't mind my absence.  "Is everything going okay?"

"Yeah."

A wave of relief rushes over me.  I am about to ask how long Joshua is staying at our house, but you speak first.

"Joshua's coming tomorrow afternoon," you tell me in a hushed voice.  You must be afraid Mom and Dad can hear you because I hear a door close and a click before you continue.  "He's not leaving for a whole month, maybe longer."

I am quiet for a moment.  I don't know what to tell you.  I wish there were words I could comfort you with, but any reassurance that Joshua isn't that bad would be a lie.  "It's been two years since we last saw him," I point out.  "Maybe he's changed."  It's all I can think of to say; although I don't believe it.

"Maybe," you respond, unsure of whether you should believe me.  But why should you believe me?  We both know he hasn't changed.  He never will.

I think for a moment.  "Why don't you see if you can go to Hailey's house?" I suggest.  "Hailey's mom doesn't usually mind if you hang out there a lot."

There is silence for a few minutes on the other end of the line.  “Hailey's going to Florida for three weeks.  She's leaving tomorrow, I think."

"Oh."  I forgot about that.  "Well, Autumn," I tell you, "You'll just have to deal with it as best you can.  You're strong for your age.  Just don't let him see your feelings."  It is sad but true.  I am telling you, still a child, to hide your emotions.  It is the only defense against Joshua.  And a lot of times it doesn't work.

You agree, then we talk about lighter subjects before you get sent to bed.

Each day is the same for over a week.  I hang out with Ashlyn and Katherine during the day, and we do various activities.  One day some cute surfer guys offered to give us free surfing lessons which of course we agreed to.  I am telling you about this one night when suddenly I realize you haven't said a word about Joshua so I ask.

"You were right about him," you respond.  "He's nice to me now.  I think he just didn't like us when we were younger."

I have my doubts, but I don't want to burst your bubble.  I also get the feeling that there's something you're not telling me.

"Any idea why?" I inquire.

"Nope," you state simply.  "But Dad wants him to give me swim lessons.  He says he's a certified instructor.

"Savannah!  Come on!" Katherine calls to me.  "Ashlyn's about to start a movie."

I tell them to stat the movie without me because I know there is more you haven't told me.  "You don't want to take lessons?"

"Not with him.  He still gives me a bad feeling."

"But Dad won't turn down the opportunity since the lessons are free and he's nice to you."  I am thinking aloud, and your agreement confirms my suspicions.

I suggest pretending to be sick but you turn that idea down.  "It won't matter," you insist downheartedly.

"Can you at least try?"

Your response is cut short as the phone line is disconnected.  Then I remembered I wasn't using my cell phone since it had died earlier.  One of my friends must have disconnected the phone.

"Care to join us?" Katherine asks.  She and Ashlyn enter the room looking annoyed.

"Yeah," Ashlyn puts in.  "You can talk to your little sister tomorrow.  It's not like you're going to die between now and then."

I nod.  They can't understand what you are going through and why it's so important for us to talk.  Ashlyn is an only child and Katherine has a six year old brother who she finds quite annoying.  But you and I are closer than that.  I'll make up our talking time tomorrow.

It is a long night, but at last morning comes.  I just want to sleep all day but Ashlyn and Katherine drag me out to the beach.  I am still worrying about you, but I keep my concerns to myself.  All day I think about how your lesson with Joshua is going.  What is he doing to you?

I lose my balance as a wave crashes over my head, and the water closes over me.  I can't breathe and everything is black.  I can feel the sand and salt scraping my sightless eyes, and I wonder if I'll ever see again.

There is no up; there is no down.  I am flailing hopelessly in terror.  My lungs are screaming for air.  At last I am forced to open my mouth.  I inhale gallons of salt water.  I try to scream, but start to cough, then choke under the blanket of blackness.

My senses begin to dull.  The roaring of the ocean's currents has become strangely quiet, and at last everything seem peaceful.  As I let the cool water numb my body, I hear voices calling in the distance.  I ignore them and give up all inhibitions as everything fades to black.  There is nothing left.  Nothing matters.

 

 

Later that night you answer your phone.  You are surprised to hear Ashlyn's mom's voice instead of mine.  She asks to speak to your mom and silently you hand Mom the phone.

"Hello?" she answers.  You watch and your eyes go wide when Mom is silent for a few moments.  "What?" she finally chocks out.  She still seems to be in a trance.  Your face reflects horror as Mom drops the phone.  Then she turns, collapses onto her bed, and bursts into tears.

"Mom? Mom! What's wrong?"  Your voice is shrill with fear.  You run up to Mom, shaking her urgently.  "What's wrong?" you repeat.

Mom continues to cry without taking any notice of you.  I'm glad she can't tell you yet.  I don't want you to know what happened.  I don't want you to know why Ashlyn's mom called, why my friends are crying, and Mom as well.  Because I know you'll feel responsible for my death.

 

"You idiot!  Why can't you do a damn thing right?"

I can't believe you're being spoken to this way.  Actually yelled at.  You of all people shouldn't be cursed at for not being perfect your second time swimming.

Instead of answering, you simply sigh and turn away.  You jaw muscle twitches, and soon you're biting back tears.  What have you done so wrong that you deserve this?  And it's not like it's only you and Joshua at the pool.  Lots of other swimmers are there too, staring at you.  They must think that you're a disobedient, little child.  You must feel humiliated.

You paddle over to the wall and kick off again.  You greatly enjoy the brief second that you are gliding through the water because it means you don't have to hear Joshua's insults.  It is like a soothing ointment gently being rubbed over an aching muscle.  Only it's not a sore muscle that is hurting you.

An arm suddenly blocks your path, and a rough hand grabs your wrist.  You are forced to look up at the face you have come to hate.

"No, you're not listening," he said.  "Actually, you are listening-you're just not trying."

Not trying?  You wonder angrily how he could even think such a thing about you, but you don't challenge him.  You know better.  Because anything you say will be held against you.  So you ask him to show you again.

Even though it is only the second time he has shown you this sill, he is extremely annoyed.  "Does your brain even work?  I already showed this to you!"

The same thing happened day after day for weeks.  By this point you have lost track of the number of lessons you've had with Joshua.  You drown in tears every night before bed.  It's the same every time.  And every night you try calling me, but my friends tell you I can't talk.  You demand to know why but they always hang up on you.  Then you cry yourself to sleep, thinking that everybody hates you.

One night, you're feeling particularly horrible when you hear a knock on the door.  "Open up!" an all-too-familiar voice calls.

You crawl towards your locked door and stagger to your feet.  The voice on the other side is yelling about the locked door, and when you open it, Joshua is glaring at you.  Your misery, although well hidden, was still obvious to him.

Joshua laughed with contempt.  "You're such a baby," he scolded you.  "What is wrong with you?"

You bow your head in shame, then run to bury your face in your pillow before the tars escape.  Joshua follows you confidently.  You whimper telling him to go away, but he persists.

"What are you even crying about?" he asked in mock sympathy.  "Your dead sister?"

You sniffle, then are silent for a moment.  "What?" you choke out.

If Joshua was surprised by the fact that you didn't know this, he didn't show it.  "Your sister, Savannah," he repeated.  "She drowned at the beach, remember?"

How can you remember?  Mom had never told you.  But it makes sense.  Mom's endless melancholy, my friends' rudeness towards you, you not being able to talk to me.

As soon as Joshua leaves, you make your way to your dresser.  There's a small treasure you found the other day and decided to store in the top drawor.  Something you never thought you would have a use for.

I watch as you slump down onto your bed.  You heave a sigh and open the hand that is clutching the small object.  It looks like a carved piece of wood.  You run your fingers along its glossy surface for a few seconds before flicking it open.  A silver blade, sharp to perfection, gleams at you.  I know what you're planning to do, and I can't let you make this mistake.

There is no way for me to stop you as the blade slices easily through your skin.  You can't take your eyes off the crimson trickling out of the newly make cut on your wrist.  The cut isn't deep, but you are horrified at what you've done.  Immediately, you regret your thoughtless decision.  How could you have done such a thing to yourself?  Yet at the same time, the slight pain feels good, and you believe you deserve the punishment.  And you draw the knife across your wrist again and again.

I want to scream at you to stop.  I want to tell you that I can't live with you doing such a thing to yourself-except I'm already dead.  And there's no way for me to prevent your actions.  I can't communicate with you because you are blind to my presence.  Otherwise, I would be there for you.

Luckily, you have begun to pull yourself back together because the phone rings.  For a few heartbeats, you stare at it in confusion.  No one has called you since Ashlyn's mom shared her tragic news so you wonder who it could be.  One thing is for sure- you know it can't be me no matter how much you want it to be.

"Autumn?" a voice responds when you answer.

You smile for once in what seems like forever.  "Hailey!" you exclaim.

Hailey says she is back from Florida and invites you to go to her house the next day.  You greatly accept the offer, relieved to finally escape all your problems.  Even if only for a few hours.

"I have a lot to tell you," you confess to your friend.  You have been dying inside without anyone to talk to now that I'm gone.  I can't  imagine the pain you are in.  And I know it's all my fault.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow?" Hailey asks.

You sigh.  "Of course," you say, trying to sound unbothered.  What's another night of hell anyway?

The next day, you tell Hailey everything.  You start off about Joshua and his swim lessons, but then the topic of my death comes up.

"Have you talked to  Savannah about this?" she asks, not realizing this will be a touchy subject for you.

You turn away, burying your face in your hands.  "Can't."  Your breathing is heavy, and you blink rapidly.  "She's...gone."

A gentle arm wraps around your shoulders.  Hailey's eyes are wide with concern, but she seems confused.  "What do you mean she's gone?"

And somehow you manage to tell her.  Soon she knows the whole story.  However, there is one thing you leave out.  Something you maybe should mention:  the reason your cat left so many scratches on your wrist.  Yet, you say nothing.

You open your eyes to find tears streaming down your face.  Hurriedly, you wipe them away, but continue to lay in your bed.  How long have you been there?

That's when you remember that this all happened three years ago.  Where the scars covering your arms have faded, new ones replace them.  They are like pictures drawn in blood, and you are the artist.  The tiny designs are decorations, and in a strange way, you take pride in them.  They tell a story.  A story of great suffering, but also strength.

Now your story is growing too long, and you are ready for it to end.  If you don't conclude it soon, you will bore your reader.  But it doesn't matter anyway because no one will read the story, and no one will listen.

Even Hailey won't listen.  The one person you opened up to has distanced herself more and more from you over the past year.  At first she cared.  She was always there for you and prevented you from hurting yourself again.  However, she is gone now.  You tell her nothing of your problems because she doesn't want to hear them.  You think that deep down she still cares, and she does, but such betrayal has afflicted more wounds upon you.

"My sister," you murmur.  "If you are there, save me from this living hell!"

Of course I hear you, but I still can't speak to you.  My words have long since left my tongue.  Yet, I wonder if there is any way for me to show you I'm here.  And that I care about you.  I will always watch over you.  Even death cannot shatter my love for my little sister.

You desperately grab your knife from the dresser drawor.  Then you hold the knife to your heart.  "If no one will listen, I've got no reason to live."

No!

I move toward the rays of sunlight shining through your window, and I direct all of my energy to you in hope that I will alert you of my presence.  If there is any way for you to see me, this i how.  And this might be the one way to prevent you from joining me.

I hold my hand out to you as I feel the sun illuminating my figure.  Through my eyes, I look no different, but I see a shocked look on your face.

The knife slips out of your hand like butter.  "How...?"

I smile at you, and you smile back.  "I'm still here for you," I want to say.

I don't need to speak.  You nod and approach me slowly.  You begin to reach out to me; you want to take my hand to see if it's real, but I shrink back.  "Trust me," my eyes plead.

Your eyes lock on mine, and I know you trust me.  I can't help it, but I glance down at your battle-scarred wrists.

You catch me looking.  "I'll stop," you promise.

I can feel my presence dimming from your sight.  You notice too.  Sadness fills your eyes as you call out to me, "Thank you."

In that instant as you watch me fade away, you realize that you have never been alone.  I have always been watching over you through your happiness and your tears.  And  will continue to watch over you until it is your turn to join me.  You and I will be together again.  But until then, I will remain here even if nobody else will hear a word you have to say.  I will stay with you when you are alone.  But most of all, remember that I'm here.  I'm here if no one will listen.

 

Author's Note

Please ignore any spelling mistakes and typos.

Reviews

[Wolfwind]

Wow! This was a deep and rich tale of both tragedy and life. You capture the reader and embrace them in the flow of the tale, so that they can't help but swim to it's end to know how it the final outcome will come about and what it will be. This was amazing!

Aaron

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing writer. You brought me in with a powerful lead and you create a powerful and intense story. You touched on many subjects in this outstanding story.
Coyote