Death of June

It was my psychologist's idea to keep a journal. From feeling to print, it's like shining a flashlight in the unknown darkness. You get to see what is, or in some unfortunate cases, what is not there. I hope that is not my story.
     It is indeed odd that I am writing in a journal, or taking any of the advice that my psychologist gives me seriously; after all, I only started attending sessions for the purpose of entertainment. I'm really not that crazy, or if I am, there is nothing that can be done about it.
     Oh, we don't talk about too much; not because I am afraid, but because I am not in liberty. Such a thing is unknown to me. I am robbed of free will just as I rob it from my victims...but it is not my choice. Just like I said, I have no choice. Ah, look at me, rambling off. Its odd how you can just trail off like that; I like it. You never know where you will end up or what you will find along the way. That is one thing that many people do not do; let themselves go, one of their biggest regrets.
     Like freedom, I do not know regret either. Without being able to decide my own path, I am unable to err, and therefore, I can never reminisce about how I should have done this, or how I wish I had not done that. He makes all of those decisions for me, that monopolizing b*****d. But I am bound. However, in all dark clouds there is a silver lining; I need not fret over blame or responsibility; oh I have a duty to perform, but no obligations. It's a dictated carefree lifestyle. Hah...life.
     I always get to hear their should haves, their shouldn't haves, and best of all, their wishes (it is quite a fulfilling morsel). I get to taste life through their death. It's somewhat bland, but nonetheless addicting. Sometimes I will befriend them anywhere from a couple of weeks to a month before it is their time, but it is only the special ones. I will talk to them; learn from them, live through them. When is it their time to die, it is my time too. What suicide, what larks. I have never felt particularly sad or remorseful to see them go to wherever it is that they go. My interest in them is detached. I suppose it is really hard to get attached in just a few weeks. Perhaps this is why I target those that Time has chosen to extinguish. Time is His greatest achievement, or so He believes. Time is His Beloved, and I am Time's b***h. You know, the hierarchy.
     This time I chose a girl for my focus, to be my host so to speak. She was a young innocent girl of twenty but her virgin smile could not hide the mischief and knowledge held within her green eyes. Such secrets were only emphasized by the undulating way she moved her hips; it was only so subtle. No one understood her. She did not even know her own deepest fathoms and it would remain this way long after the cold darkness enclosed upon her and the opportunity for discovery no longer existed.
     It was a little sad to rob the world of such beauty so soon; it was like cutting a bud yet to fully bloom off a rose bush. Her glory did not only lie upon her skin and bones, but deep inside her soul as well and all the good within her blinded her from all the hardships of the world. I am sure that the sugar coating provided by her parents only added to her sickeningly sweet idealism. She was the daughter of a doctor and school teacher and all that she wanted was hers (perhaps to masks her parents’ faulty ways) but all their pampering did not keep her from the boys. They liked to pamper her too for she more than returned the favor.
     The girl's name was June and I had grown rather fond of our visits, more so than usual. Even my psychologist noticed a difference in my demeanor. He told me that I had been smiling more in our past few visits ( I met with him for twice a week at this point). He added, in a self-assured tone that made me think that he had used this line before, that he liked it when I smiled because it was very beautiful. His body language spoke with hidden implications that told me that this line often worked as well. I replied by drawing my eyes upon the small golden bond that titled him husband and father. Our session ended quickly that day but I would be seeing him again soon.
      On our outings, June would often talk about all sorts of things; this is why I liked her most. Many of the people that I have befriended before their deaths only talked in a circular way that was perfected by many years of practice. I would never know what June would teach me next; her mind wandered more than the others' did and she had no hesitation about bringing me along. Yet, even if I could I would not miss her when it was time to depart her from the world and myself; I knew she had to die and there was no point in wishing that she didn't. He doesn't care but at least Time makes the pain go away.
     One day, not long before her death would be upon me, June told me about her plans for her future. It was odd, for she did not have any. She said that she felt as though she was not ready for the world, but sometimes I look back on the person she was and think that the really, the world was not ready for her. After saying that, she looked at me as though she knew my true identity; however, I knew that was impossible. I suppose that my imagination likes to wander because my entirety can not but that is not the point. June went on to talk about how she had made many mistakes in her life and I assured her that everyone does. This statement did not sooth the obvious pain that the young girl was feeling so I asked her to elaborate. Hesitating for a moment, she swallowed the heavy lump in her throat and proceeded to explain herself. I did not understand why she was acting this way; it was the first time that she ever exhibited inhibition. I was slightly taken aback at this display but I gave her the attention and concern that she was silently asking for, eager to learn what made her feel and act this way.
      In a weak voice, June told me that a year ago to date, she had an abortion. "I killed my baby," she repeated to me, gasping to hold back the sobs that were yearning to escape their murky chambers. "Why? If it pains you so, why did you go through with it?" I asked. She explained that she knew she was not capable of caring for a child and neither was the father, but when I asked about adoption she told me that she knew that would have been impossible. June said that after her child grew inside her and lived from her for nine months, how could she give it away. She sat there for a minute and fumbled softly with the folds of her floral printed skirt. After a few moments of long unbearable silence had passed she went on to say that her mother had a lot do with her decision. She was all her mother had since June's father started working the long hours at the office, or at least, this was the excuse her mother and father gave to her. However; June was not stupid; she knew what her father was out really doing. Her mother started relying heavily on June in order to evade the horrors of her rotting marriage. Apparently, if June had the child, she would have disgraced her family and her mother would lose the last thing she had, her baby. June gave-up her child so her mother could keep hers. Now June's baby was a part of her that she would never see and never know.
     She laid her head upon my lap and a great release came over her as she cried profusely. I could feel June's tears seep through my jeans but I could not feel the sadness that had tormented her for a whole year. "I am a horrible person!" she said between sobs. I just gently stroked her head and whispered softly, "All roses have their thorns. Your pain will not continue much longer." June seemed to be comforted by this statement; which is a rare occasion indeed.     

     That was the last time I talked to June. She died the next day in a car accident. This day also happened to be my last appointment with my psychologist, but when I went into his office; her receptionist said that he would not be in for the next week or so. "Why?" I asked trying to conceal the knowledgeable grin on my face. "Because his daughter was involved in a fatal car accident." I turned my eyes to the ground and walked out of the door.
     As I walked slowly down the street I could feel the arriving fall air ruffle my hair with its gentle crispness. I thought of how things would be better for June's mother after her distraught husband would commit suicide. It would only be a few more days and she would be able to leave behind the depression that her failed marriage had embraced upon her. Of course it would take some time to recover from her daughter's death, but she wouldn't need June anymore with her husband gone; besides, Time was on her side. After reveling over the events of the past month, I decided to go to the flower shop and buy some roses for June's grave.

Reviews

[Calypso]

I love this. It's such a wonderful and descriptive piece. This is one of my favorite pieces. It reminds me of my therapist and her daughter.