Permanent Desisions

This piece Is inspired by A dream I had, soon after losing my father and I had attempted suicide. It haunted me in one of my darkest hours

I had nowhere to run, no one to run too. Nowhere I could go to escape my own head, I have been struggling with my own thoughts for a while, Bad thoughts would cross my mind constantly.I wasn't sure what was reality or what was a dream. I would sit in a room perfectly happy and a black smog would enter and engulf the entire room, Spiders would crawl from my food or any shaded spot my eyes could spy. Images of deranged faces would appear from nowhere. They would surround me as I walked outside or as I lay in bed profusely struggling to sleep.In my dreams A figure of a decrepit woman would wake me to tell me that I had to hold perfectly still, for if I moved they would have permission to come into my bed and harm me in whatever way they saw fit. They would cut my arms , bruise my chest and back or even scratch my face, on the rare occasion where they wanted to show their hold over me.

The last three years of my life have been a living hell. It all began as a night terror and developed almost overnight where I could no longer tell When I was asleep Or whether I was awake. It would vary day to day. In the back of my mind, there was a constant hum, On other extremities It would feel as I would brush my teeth and lift my head to reveal A nest of spiders break from their eggs and crawl out by their hundreds from my mouth down onto my toothbrush. I was drowning and could take no more. I was a''Childish, paranoid teenager with an over-active imagination''. No one would believe me.

I'm the eldest of three siblings. My parents are of lower working class but we get by. My father was recently let go from his job as a Builder. After many fights between my parents, my father began searching for employment again, with great difficulty. He found two where he was offered a job almost instantly. This would be due to his excellent references and service presented in his resume. My father would work there for a short time and then leave due to the job not being good enough for him. In my opinion, this isn't true. I think that he is depressed. And losing his jobs on purpose and is too proud to say otherwise. My father Is diabetic, I have noticed he hasn't been taking his medicine and loosing significant weight my father Has always been a big man but as of late his face is becoming gaunt. And he complains about his jeans falling off his hips. I notice when he is at home he sits in his chair and smokes his Major cigarettes, up to 40 a day .He would spend all his money on them regardless on whether there is food in the fridge or not. This puts tension on the family.

My mother Petite blond shy and frail. She keeps her opinions to herself rarely likes to get into a confrontation and is the living rendition of someone who lives a life under the radar My mother works two jobs , with young children. She takes pride in her home and garden. My family doesn't make a lot of money, but we get by.

My two younger siblings 'the twins' are three years apart in age but are both very similar. They have similar personalities and sense of humour. They both enjoy to play games together and watch similar movies. They don't like to admit it, but they love each other very deeply.

I'm the odd one out, the black sheep. Nothing spectacular . Dark hair average build and bluish green eyes .I'm in no way standoffish with no overly attractive features. I blend in perfectly with my background, I'm pretty sure if I tried hard enough I could blend into a wall. In school, I Keep my head down. I take average grades regardless of the fact that If I wanted to I could get much better grades, but I couldn't imagine my embarrassment with the attention. Also I find it exceptionally hard to concentrate with rats and Spiders dancing on your hands as you attempted to study.

One thing that I find hurts my feelings Is my peers inability to remember my name. I would often be referred to as ''Avril'' , My name sounds as little to do with the name Avril, It's Claire. A perfectly average name for a perfectly average human. Unfortunately I have A completely obscure and Un average view of the world around me and because of my lack of management I would allow myself to execute an act which would destroy and change the lives of the people around me who I thought deemed me as invisible.
A family gathering surrounds me . Dozens of children run around my feet, smiling and laughing. They are all in full holiday spirit. Which had little to do with the birth of Jesus and more to do with what Nintendo Dsi that they hope to receive on Christmas morning. They chat and boast amongst themselves. The boys play games on their small handheld devices whilst the girls giggle at each other and model their dresses which their mothers would have proudly bought for the occasion each child had a cheeky grin on their face. I guess that's the charm of children. They are funny little creatures.

I sat alongside my cousin who Is not much younger than myself Speaking politely and making small talk about how cute the children were and how fast it was that they were growing up, whilst trying my hardest to ignore the black fog that skulked its way out of the children playhouse. I would retch quietly to myself as the children ran In and out of the playhouse unharmed.

My ears began to ring a high pitched squeal.It nauseated me instantly. My eyes glazed over as if I was looking through incredibly intoxicated eyes. I closed them immediately and shook my head in hope that the feeling would go away. An Ungodly shape of a woman , The woman who would often haunt my dreams took form in the window box in front of me She was a haggard woman who wore dull tattered clothing not from this era. Her hair was Black with silver routes. Her hair was broken and Torn with dreadlocks from being unkempt . As she smiled at me she Had dull, broken teeth with patches of Rot scattered through her disgusting mouth. The woman never spoke, she communicated by what seemed like a wire directly into my mind. It would boom over all my other thoughts so as I couldn't escape. As she spoke, she would lift only the corner of her mouth to reveal her rotten teeth.

I couldn't take this any more, I ran to the bathroom to remove myself from her . She laughed at me . I entered the bathroom underneath the stair. It was a small room with a cream pink tile. With a White border tile decorated with gold shell filigree. The room contained very little A toilet A sink and A small white wicker basket for waste paper. Over the hum I could hear the whir of the bathroom extractor. I sat on the toilet with my head in my hands waiting for the rush to go away. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror .Through the drunken haze, I saw My own reflection In the small shell mirror. My brow was beading a cold sweat through pasty skin. I looked like the aftermath of a witness to a car accident. The black fog entered the room sliding under the door. I then noticed A large hairy spiders leg pressing its way out of my left ear knuckle by knuckle.I ran the tap and splashed water on my face. The vision had disappeared.

I stumbled out into the kitchen where the older members of my family sat. My aunts, uncles, grandparents and parents sat around the decorated kitchen table, drinking Tea or glasses of whiskey or port. Depending on who was designated driver. I Whispered to my father, asking him whether or not he was free to drive me home. Begging him that I wasn't feeling well. He looked at my pasty skin and told me as he had been drinking he couldn't drive me home. He found my mother and she dropped me home.

I walked in the door being greeted by two excitable dogs and waved goodbye to my mother as she left the house to return to the party. The dogs ran up and down the hall barking and yelping with excitement, however I was too exhausted to play with them. My episodes really took it out of me.

I sat down on my fathers chair and tried to relax. It was an old three seater couch. It was sprinkled with some dog hairs had some small stains from general old age and use. It also Smelled of my fathers tobacco. Although the smell of tobacco wasn't a pleasant one I found comfort as it was the smell of my father. I would also find myself drifting off into a soft sleep.

I was awoken to the same high pitch squeal. And saw the woman standing over my face. Her breath was retched she whispered into my ear and as her breath whisper along my ear my body cramped with goose bumps. She whispered slowly ''you are Nothing''.

The words she spat rang and looped around me it was nauseating . I needed it to stop. The beads of sweat ran from my brow. I placed my hands over my ears and swayed back and forth hoping that it would stop, but it intensified. I crawled across the floor to the alcohol cabinet I took out the first bottle I could be found which was A bottle of Jameson whiskey. I fumbled clumsily around the room through pressing finding boxes upon boxes of my fathers neglected prescription. I found a plethora of insulin to blood thinners . I sat on the ground in floods of tears, The woman stood above me and carried a smug look on her face. And once again whispered “Nothing!” The sound of her whispers sped up in my mind in a frenzy. I Took my first handful of the cocktail of medication and shoved them into my throat . I swallowed the cocktail with great difficulty, The pills varied in size and shape. Some were soft capsules, they burst in my mouth Leaving a sour taste that caused me to shudder ,others were large and solid they cut the walls of my throat as they made their way down to my stomach. With each mouthful I washed it down with a mouthful of bitter whiskey that burned my throat as it went down and I felt a Warming sensation as the whiskey coated the end of my stomach. I felt froth of the toxic mixture push its way up my throat It burned quite intensely. But with all my power I forced it back down. I continued to shovel handfuls into my mouth. My arms began to grow weary I found it increasingly hard to lift my arms to my face and it was even more difficult to aim

The bottle correctly to my lip I would pour the whiskey all down my front. I lifted the remainder of the pills to my lip and vomited in my own mouth as I filled it with pills. It leaked onto my shirt swallowed the pills and swallowed the remainder of the vomit by washing it back with the whiskey. The woman had gone, Disappeared from existence.I was so dizzy I dropped the bottle shattering it into pieces. I leaned over to clean up the mess, but slipped on the spillage and fell into large shard that protruded from the remainder of the bottle neck. It slipped through my throat like butter. I gasped, trying to let out a scream that would not come. I watched as the blood pumped from my throat mixing with the whiskey spillage permitting the cardboard medication boxes. That's when My world went black.

The keys rattle in the front door, the PVC door unlocks and swings open. My brother and sister run up the hallway to the sitting room and general life re enters the home. Mother and father chatter at the door glad to be away from the hustle and bustle of the busy family get together. They moan about how they would love to put their feet up and have a nice cup of tea in peace and quiet. The kitchen door clunks as it opens, allowing a hollow echo bellow down through the long curved hall. My mother's nose turns up in disgust she smells the alcohol whoft from the kitchen and curiously turns her head around the corner. She enters a room of disarray with a scatter empty of Pill blisters a large spill of blood marbled with whiskey and In the middle of the mess her first born daughter lying impaled on a broken whiskey bottle, a rainbow of pill capsules caked around it's lips left to crisp and dry on the cold tile floor.

Mother screams a sharp, but scratching scream oxygen doesn't escape her lungs. She runs over to 'it' lifts her child's head and shakes 'it' profusely screaming out 'it's' name, slapping 'it's' cheeks trying her hardest to get life into her baby knowing by now that her child has gone and all that remains is a heavy lifeless corpse. She begins CPR, but on account of the piece of broken glass in 'it's' throat this is pointless.

The 'twins' run down the hall curiously to investigate the commotion . A father stops them by the door. They are far too young to be subjected to such a scene, however they see it anyway and begin to cry out of frustration and uncertainty. Father holds them in his arms and ushers them out of the room, closing the door behind them. Mothers wail breaks through the walls and echoes throughout the house. Uncertainty is the essence of the hour, but preparations must be made.

Friends and family arrive in the door quite early the next morning with tea pots and large platters of food. A silent mist falls all over the house. The house is filled with people, but hardly a word is said. The house feels cold,empty and damp. Many questions are asked about the discovery of 'it'. Apologies and short sobs whispered through the house. My siblings sit silently in the sitting room whilst the adults rushed around them, cleaning and preparing for the next few days. Grandmother and my aunt Marie put their arms around my zombie like mother. She says nothing, just is carried around to keep blood circulation in her body. They would ask her numerous times “come on Beth , you've got to eat. Do you want some tea, here is a sand wedge?” however all attempts fell upon deaf ears as she tried her hardest to keep the remaining bile in her stomach.

The house stank of synthetic Fresh mowed lawn plug in air fresheners and White cut off lilies in clear crystal vases scattered around the sitting room. Large slender candles of different heights lay flickering next to a photograph of Claire in a white filigree frame, the photo had been cut cropped and re-sized from a family gathering sat on the mantle piece. Mass cards were delicately placed around the room.

My aunts gathered everyone in the kitchen as the funeral directors discussed the ceremony. The type of flowers to be placed at the altar. They chose a mixture of white lilies and sprigs of baby's breath,priest sermons, music and most importantly the coffin . Prices are never discussed at the table. I'm sure it's the way the funeral directors show respect for the family and try to show that it's not only just a business for them. Making money off others misfortune.Little is said at the table. My aunts knew what was best, they made decisions as my mother nodded softly . My father held his hands intertwined and rested his head on his hands . My brother and sister peered wide eyed at the scene, unsure what to make of the situation at all. My mother stood away from the table exclaiming that she needed some air. I'm sure being surrounded by the ones you love can be smothering at times. My father exited the house also and lit up a cigarette. Both my mother and father sat at the gable end of the house and stared blankly into their huge garden that they built together. They married relatively young and had planned to fill this garden with children screaming and playing. Now they were a child short and going to live with that regret for the remainder of their lives I'm sure that this played on their minds a bit. They stood up and returned into the house.

The day had come my aunts and uncles and distant family friends flood the house. All dressed up neatly the men in suits with long slender black ties. The women were wearing a majority of different shapes and size dark clothing or slack trousers and a women's tailored blazer. Children were wearing comfortable, casual clothes such as jeans and a shirt or little dress and jacket. The children all have a nervous air about themselves. They are unsure what to make of the situation . Most of them have never seen a corpse before. They were all warned by their parents to be on their best behaviours and have manners towards Beth and the rest of the family. I can't say their parents were any more confident.

The children run into the house and kiss Beth and John. Say that they were sorry . No doubt they were only copying what the adults around them are doing, but they all did it with such grace that their parents are very proud. With each hug and kiss Beth Became a little bit more weary. The faces and apologies became a blur.Sam and Sarah were much the same. Growing more anxious about the situation at hand, Irritable that they hadn't slept in a while, having similar questions asked on loop. Mothers older sisters asked everyone to squash into the kitchen as the directors Were parked outside on the path in a black Mercedes hearse with the coffin. The kitchen is almost silent except for the odd cough and shuffle as the men set up the room and laid out the coffin. The men walk up the hall and inform my family that the room is ready.

Mothers oldest sister addresses everyone that the room is ready and my immediate family should enter first. Followed by the remainder of our family and friends at their own discretion. The room was set out beautifully It smelled of soft wax melting from the ivory candles and fresh cut lilies. Next to the wall there it lay . A long  panelled solid oak, casket with brass coloured metal handles, upholstered in white silk lining balanced on a clothed bier. Inside it It lay. I looked at my old body It was such a strange experience. I looked similar to what I had before, but now my rosy cheeks looked sallow, and I had a yellow , greyish sheen all over. I had my hair cut in a short, sharp bob.I'll assume the fringe was cut to cover any lacerations that may have occurred when I fell into the glass.'It wore soft make-up that seemed to cake off the skin A soft blush caressed my cheek. 'its eyes were painted in a soft brown, taupe shade with a small blur of eye-liner blended subtly into 'it's' eyelashes. 'it's' lips were softened with a light pink lipstick, however you could still see the blue sheen of dead skin. My mother must have chosen my clothes as I was dressed in, as it would be nothing that I would have chosen in my lifetime. Humorously it was no longer my lifetime. 'It' was clothed in a yellow sun dress and a soft white knit jumper. A small silken scarf was placed around my neck and draped onto my collar bone , a feeble attempt to cover the laceration from the bottle. My nails had been trimmed and thoroughly cleaned, a perfect manicure that I was never able to maintain life. My hands were woven together surrounded in rosary beads. A religious practice this that I would never have believed in life.

I watched a family member after family member approach the casket, kiss 'it's forehead and brush 'it's' hair. They would whisper secrets into 'it's ear before cracking up and leaving in tears to be comforted by a family member or a friend. Children would approach the coffin and ask whether or not ,if they touched the corpse 'It' would jump up and frighten them. This innocent humour was one of the things that softened the blow to the grieving people in the room. The children would place small notes about their dreams, daisy's that they had picked from the garden. The older generation would leave money in the coffin or small trinkets for me to bring to the next world. An old tradition that I thought had diminished many years ago.

My grandmother approached the coffin, she leaned down, kissed the corpse, called it a silly girl, told him that she loved her and would see me soon. She said a prayer and with tears in her eyes, she began to sing a song she'd sung to me as a child. It was about a teddy bear she had as a child with a growling mechanism on the inside. And when you would tip the bear upside down, he would sigh out a small growl, which to her meant that you had to return him right side up. Grandmother grew wary and she was ushered away from the casket side.

My heart was broken and I couldn't believe what I had done. I walked down to the kitchen after the commotion of the day had settled.I watched my mother cradle Sam and my father cradle Sarah. They discussed that They all needed to stick with
One another and tried to explain what happened to the young ones. I screamed desperately In hopes to get their attention, to no avail. I touched my mother and father's shoulder. Goosebumps crept up their shoulders, but my presence was ignored.

I had to make this right. I ran down the winding hall to the living room looked at my uncles sitting quietly telling stories by the soft glow of the candles. I turned to the corpse. I climbed gently up into the casket, put my knees into 'it's' chest and began to pound on the corpse's chest. I couldn't even move the light silken scarf draped on 'it's' clavicle bone. I lay down into the coffin hoping that if I lay in the same position, body and soul would re-unite and I could get life back into the meat sack. I was so mad . I sat at the end of the casket and looked around at the room of the people I loved, the people who loved me. I had always thought these people took me for granted and didn't acknowledge me. I thought I was alone, but these were the very people that needed me in small ways and I had taken that away from them.I made a permanent decision to a temporary problem. I was so selfish, I thought When I finish it all That was it, nothing but black I thought there would be no more suffering.

My mother, father, brother, sister, grandmother and grandfather came into the room closed the door behind them. They huddled around each other and kissed each other. One by one they approached the corpse and said their final goodbyes each breaking a tear as they did . I reeled with guilt. I got away from my misfortunes . They left the room, taking one last look at their daughter, their first born. The child they once promised themselves they would kill to protect. Lying dead, they would be left for the remainder of their years, wondering “what if?” The decision was made for them. For me, my troubles were over. For them, It was only beginning. 

Author's Note

Ignore spelling and grammar problems. First time writer