The Result

Another day. Another day of the same thing. This has become a routine. It’s Wednesday afternoon, middle of the week. No one would be home for a few hours. I return home from school feeling the same unceasing pain of failure. I go to the kitchen to get a bottle of water then head to the living room to watch TV in hopes to get things off my mind. I find myself getting angrier and angrier. The overwhelming sensation of failure haunts me like never before. My mind is a death trap and there is no way of escaping it. I couldn’t stand the mental and physical pain anymore. I turn to the worst thing to solve my problems. Drugs. Painkillers to be exact. I can’t even explain where this naive, strange, stupid decision came from. It was almost like I transformed into a totally different person.

 

I return back to the couch after rummaging through the secret medicine cabinet with the, supposed to be, inaccessible bottles of supplements. I give the drugs time to sink in, but it wasn’t quick enough for me. I’m too impatient. I get this bright idea that alcohol would hurry up the process of escaping reality. I open the liquor cabinet reading through the different brands and finally set my mind on some Jameson. I was familiar with it so I thought it would have been the best choice. One shot…two…three.. I lay back down and search for something more entertaining than Disney Channel. Why was that channel even on? Don’t ask me!

 

I start to feel the narcotics take affect. It enlightens my mood. I had this unacceptable flow of relief. I even caught myself giggling every now and then. I got up to use the bathroom and had a sudden rush of dizziness. I only smiled. I sit there on the throne with my head drooping. I was completely numb. As I use the soft blue towel hanging on the rack to dry off my hands I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I set it aside and stare for a minute. I extend my arms and support myself on the counter with my numb hands. I stare at my brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. I stare at the tiny smudge of eyeliner in the corner of my eye. Then I look myself dead in the eyes. In disgust I whisper, “what have I done?”

 

The haunting thoughts in my mind are building up and I start to breathe heavy. “UGGGGHHHAHHH!” I scream and rush out of the bathroom. I pace back and forth in the living room. The sound of the TV increases my rage and I feel the anger pulsating through my entire body. I’m treading through my house clenching my fists and my nostrils flared. I pick up a glass candle holder and slam it to the ground. I go to my room and punch a hole right out of the dry wall. Smash my stereo. I slam my door and break the right side of the frame in half. I broke every bedroom door in the house. My door still shut so I returned to my room and locked myself in. My mind was acting as if it was a confused VCR player. Stop, play, fast forward, rewind, all at the same time. My hearts racing and I can’t help but to fall. I fell straight to the ground and cried the hardest, longest, and loudest I have ever cried. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was going to die.

 

I hear a continuous bang on my bedroom door. “OPEN UP! IT’S TYLER OPEN UP! PLEASE OPEN UP!” I could hear the fear in his trembling voice. This was the most scared I have ever been in my entire life. All I wanted to do was die. The questioning of the importance of my life was the only thing left on my mind. I get quiet. “I’M COMING IN!”, my brother shouts. By the time he picks the lock and barges in there I am standing in the corner watching him drop to his knees in silence staring at my cold dead body hanging from the bedpost by a long red scarf. Tears rolling down his overwhelmed face. He reaches out to touch me, feels how cold I am and jerks his arm back and starts to crawl backwards towards the door. He then pauses and sits up looking around as if he can feel a presence in the room. He looks right at me. I am unsure if he can see me, so I wave. He gets up and we walk towards each other. We get about a half a foot apart and he strokes the side of my head as if he was pushing my hair back, but his hand went right through. "Why?" he asks. I speak but no sound is escaping from my vocal chords. I start to fade away and he's crying, begging me not to go. That he was sorry he was never there for me and that he didn't make it on time. He tells me that he knows this is what I've wanted and he hopes I find true happiness at last. Tells me he loves me. I mouth it back while reaching out at his hand, but it's too late. I've already disappeared.

Reviews

[Dingo the Archwizard of..]

That was, indeed, very powerful. However, the ending was a bit weak, if you ask me. For me, it just seemed like a way to cut off the story very quickly.

[Cafe Reader]

Powerful writing!

[Cliff Rhodes]

I always hope when I read about drugs and booze and anger or depression that it does not end this way, because I have known too many that did. Brings back memories of perfectly normal people that were even jokesters and always funny to be around. Sad ending but this is normal when all the other things kick in. It is a good writing and happens all too often, but still leaves me an uncomfortable feeling when those faces rush into the present.

[GTVile]

Wow, powerful and chillingly haunting. Very vivid depiction here, and you build it very well to the suspenseful climax.