The Blonde Girl pt. 2A Chapter by C. Lee Battaglia ... The Blonde Girl Part 2 Written by: C. Lee Battaglia It wasn’t always easy being a no one. It wasn’t easy being bullied. It wasn’t easy that Sara was now out of my life. Ever since she passed away, I got into things that were good at the moment because they took my mind off of her, but had a bad effect because of the long term. It started out when I went back to school and it had been a week since she had passed. My parents had to kick open the door to get into my room. I had been crying and sleeping all week and had gone without eating for a couple of days. After my mother had hugged me and she too was upset. I had scared her. She knew that Sara was very important to me. She said things like, “She’s in a better place now,” and “I’m sorry hunny,” and “If you need anything, just let me know, okay?” I really appreciate what my mom did, but at the same time it was worse. How could she be in a better place? She’s dead. She doesn’t have anybody to take care of her. I thought to myself. It bugged me when someone said that they’re sorry for something that they didn’t do. It also reminded me that if I had woken up a little bit earlier that day, I might’ve had the chance to be with her one last time. Whenever my mom asked me how I was doing, I responded, “I’m okay, I just need a little sleep.” Whenever she asked me if I was ready to go back to school, I’d say, “I’m not feeling well.” For both of these things she nodded her head and said, “Alright honey, go get some rest.” This had only worked for a week. Once a week had passed, I was still a mess and my parents had forced me to go to school. I couldn’t stand the thought of walking the same hallways I had with Sara. I couldn’t imagine going to class and sitting next to her empty desk. Who would sit by me during lunch? Who would tell me that I was worth something? Who would be there when I really needed it? My parents had enough and told me that Sara was gone. That I needed to move on. That you can’t cry and sleep in your room just because she was gone. Gone... Once my father said those words to me, It was even worse than before. As the words of my father actually sank in, I fell into an even lower state. That everything that I once saw with a hint of luster, now faded. Everything that once had purpose was now bleak. I couldn’t stand it. My twelve year old body, couldn’t comprehend the wild emotions that flowed dangerously throughout my body. * I walked down the hallway as if nothing mattered. I had a hood over my head and I hung it low to avoid the gazes of others around me. I didn’t want anything but to wake up from this awful nightmare. In class I put my head on the desk and blocked of the world of being taught. I used to love my classes, but whenever I looked at Sara’s empty desk, It reminded me of how she was gone. And not just because she was in surgery, but because she was actually gone. My teachers tried to get me to participate, but every time I hung my head on the desk and said nothing. Every test I was given, I ignored. Every assignment I was given, I refused. My teachers were worried about me. They had conferences with my parents. They even suggested that I go to therapy. But whatever they suggested, it didn’t matter. Sara was gone. Nothing else mattered. * After about a month, I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand it. The pain was to much. I found out about cutting through my cousin Beca who had scratches all over her arms. I asked her if she got into a cat fight or something because the scars on her arms looked like cat claws. Beca laughed and said yes but later that night when everyone else was asleep, I had to use the restroom and when I got up, I noticed that there was light coming through the crack of the barely open door. I peeked inside and saw my cousin. At first I thought she was putting on makeup but then realized the time and actually realized that it was blood on her arm rather then what I thought to be makeup. I walked into the room as she sliced her arm once more and said, “What are you doing? Why are you cutting yourself?” Beca spun on me and closed the door, and nearly looked like she was about to have a heart attack. She started to cry, “Chase, promise me that you won’t tell anyone…” “I promise,” I said as I started to cry also. Beca sighed and then looked at me with concern, “I’m sorry that you had to see me do this.” I just nodded as she said, “People are jerks. I can’t stand it.” “What do you mean?” I sniffled. “There are these girls at my school that think that they’re better than everyone else. They have been being really rude to me lately, saying that I’m a hoe and a slutt,” She said with tears in her eyes. “What’s a hoe and slutt?” I asked. “Not very nice things.” She said. I understood her and walked up to her and gave her a hug and asked, “But why do you cut yourself?” She looked at me and said, “It takes away the pain.” “But doesn’t it hurt?” I asked. Beca said, “It doesn’t hurt enough.” Confused I asked, “What do you mean?” “When they said those rumors about me, it spread throughout my school and everyone would say those things about me and It really hurt me. So when I cut, it helps me feel better about myself if that makes sense.” I nodded now fully understanding. * I had gotten out my pocket knife my dad had given to me for last Christmas and went into the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and pulled out my pocket knife. I unshelved it, and looked at it for a moment. After a few seconds, I pulled back my sleeve and pressed the blade against my wrist. I was surprised to see how easy it cut. I grimaced and felt my wrist pulsing. I washed my wrist under the sink but every time I turned the water off more blood kept on coming. I got a bandage out and placed it over my wrist. I felt peace for a few seconds, nothing else mattered besides the throbbing in my wrist. But as soon as it stopped throbbing, my thoughts went back to Sara. It went back to how she was actually gone and that there was nothing that I could do.
* Later that night, after I had another nightmare of Sara, I couldn’t stand the emotions going through my head. I had found myself heading back to the bathroom. I had taken off my clothes this time and got into the shower with my knife. This time, I cut two lines on both of my thighs that burned as the hot water hit my cuts. Compared to the last month of pure misery, I felt like I was in heaven. I don’t actually remember fainting, but when I had came to my senses, I apparently had fallen down and couldn’t remember how I had ended up on the shower floor. I tried to stand up but I was to week. I had lost a lot of blood. I called for my Dad and after a few minutes he had unlocked the door and came in. He nearly freaked out when he saw me. He grabbed me a towel and picked me up and took me immediately the hospital. Once we had gotten there, he took me into the emergency room and doctors came to my aid at once. I don’t remember most of it because I had fainted again but I did know that it was the same hospital that Sara had passed away in and It was more than I could bare. * After that scare in the hospital, my parents sent me to a mental hospital to try to fix me. They were worried because there son was broken and they wanted the doctor to replace me with they’re old son. I cried almost every day there. The doctors were rude and gave me happy drugs to help deal with the pain. But when they started to wear off it became even worse than before so everytime, they had to give me a little bit more to feel better. Those drugs really messed me up. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t focus. All I felt was like if everything around me was sunny and bright but I could still sense that there was something missing. When the side effects wore off, I knew exactly what was missing. Sara. When I was finally cleared to go back home, my parents felt like there happy son was back. But in reality I had just gotten to the point, that I was really good at hiding my feelings. The feelings were always there, I had just gotten good at bottling them up. I went back to school. I did my homework, took my tests, and passed 8th grade. * During ninth grade, It had gotten really bad. So I decided to take my life. It was during in between periods and didn’t have a single other motivation but to head for the railing that was 5 floors high. I had decided to go over head first. Nothing was going to stop me, nothing was going to change my course. I bent over but stopped, I looked to my left and thought that I saw Sara. The girl had blonde hair, blue eyes and a smile that I’ve seen before. This girl reminded me of Sara. She smiled and waved at me and then went to her class. I then for the first time in eight months actually smiled. I had forgotten how good it felt to smile and laugh. I went back to my class with a smile and tried to realize who that doppergangle could be. I asked some kids in my class if they knew who she was and they had no idea who I was talking about. They asked me if I was okay because the person that I had described to them were exactly the features Sara had. They laughed at me and said that I was imagining things. I couldn’t have. I swore that she was real. Wasn’t she? * After this experience, I had been more at ease. More peaceful, and more energetic then I had been before. I would search for her everywhere I went. I would walk around all the tables during lunch trying to see her. I was more out there and open with people. I even had to talk to them and some of them I actually got to know and became friends with them. It wasn’t till I was in english did I realize the truth. The teacher was talking about poetry and how poets from generation to generation used poetry to express how they were feeling. I had realized in that moment, that girl was actually Sara. She was looking out for me. She had given me another reason to live. She gave me hope and I knew that she didn’t want me to die. She wanted me to be happy. And realize what my full potential could be. I wrote this poem that day in class. What a shame That she had to go so soon What a shame That she can’t be here anymore Why is it that all good things Come and go? Why is it that There is no more light? I came to the edge And she flew at me Like a angel Smiling and lovely I went to look And she showed me Who I was And who I am. Sara was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have been the same person that I am today. She taught me how to love, and she taught me how to laugh. May her spirit live on forever. To The Blonde Girl RIP: 4/12/2012 © 2018 C. Lee BattagliaAuthor's Note
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C. Lee BattagliaAlpine, UTAboutMy name is C. Lee Battaglia and I love to read… I read so much that my Mom grounds me from reading and tells me to go do something else. I am 20 years old. I hated reading when I was little .. more..Writing
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