July 20

July 20

            Of all days that have sucked since I’ve been here I’m sure yesterday is up there.

During school I was wondering how bad of a punishment vacuuming could be. I used to volunteer to vacuum the youth room when Dad was busy.

            In English we’ve started reading Homer’s The Odyssey and in photography we were given a new assignment.

            Mr. Cooper is teaching us about lighting or something like that. I didn’t fully understood what he said, but I knew for the assignment I would turn the lights down before taking a photo to make it look like I knew what I was doing.

            At 7 pm I was study for my Sunday morning Bible studies when Janna come up to me. She waved her finger to tell me to come. I slowly packed my Bible and notebook in my purse before flowing her into the second half of the library.

            She went into a small closet and pulled out a vacuum and said, “Okay sweetie just vacuum the most you can in a hour.”

            I wasn’t the only one who had to clean. There was a girl with blond hair (which was in pigtails). She was dressed in light blue track shorts and a Flyleaf T-shirt.

            Also there was a boy. He looked like he would be more comfortable in a wife beater and vinyl shorts then the clothes he was wearing.

            We never spoke as we worked (even if we could have) and I wondered if that was a rule. They both seemed more concerned with getting the task at hand finished. They barely even looked at me. Of course I wasn’t expecting them to do so, but there was an air of shame to them.

            Luckily for us the rest of the people having free time was in the other half of the library. The one I was working in was being remolded or ‘having a face lift’ as April said jokingly. We had to clean up from all the sawdust and pieces of carpet.

            We were finished in thirty minutes. I had been finished for two minutes but I kept vacuuming because I wasn’t too sure what to do if I finished before time up.

            The blond pigtail girl asked one of the counselors what they should do next. The counselor himself was surprised by the break in silence. After throwing the newspaper he was reading on a table beside him, he when into the janitor’s closet and came out with two large buckets filled with water, a mountain of soap and three large sponges.

            The boy took one and I the other. The other two seemed to know what to do but I awkwardly pressed the soapy, wet sponge against the window. As I worked I as saw three teens throwing water. They were in loose fitting shirts and shorts. There were genuine smiles on their faces as they threw bucketfuls of water onto each other.

            They were standing by the pool and were getting the water from there. The pool was open to everyone. Normally only patients level three and up can swim, but because of the smouldering heat they are letting anyone swim. So now you are always seeing patients all around the five-foot deep  pool at all times of the day.

            I have never been fond of swimming and since Dad brought me my short Wednesday I have been cool enough to not have to swim.

            Whenever I think of swimming I think of one person- Morana. She was gifted at swimming. At times she would consider that her gift. One time she thought she was sure to win place in a swimming contest at church camp. She came in second place. Morana had won first place many, many times before and a few more times before her suicide, but that one lost hurt bad.

            Ironically before Morana’s suicide she told me she was worthless, good at nothing and had nothing to offer this world. I brought up swimming but she just sobbed. In between her sobs she told me that swimming wasn’t a talent, it was a thing of survival. Our ancestors only swam to survive. At that point Dad thought she was just jabbering, and though he was considered when she said our lives would be better without her Dad did nothing about it. We later found out this was her way of passively asking for help.

            Although when she killed herself she was meaning to die. She had used Dad’s favorite handgun to blow her brains out in her room. The blood still stains the walls.  

           

            After cleaning the windows the male counselor who was watching over us took the buckets before thanking us as if we volunteered to do it.

            I wondered back into the old library, but paused before sitting down. I could feel every bone in my body quiver. At that moment I felt like I was struck with lightening and I could barely speak when I asked, “Is it really July 20th?”

            The librarian looked up from her Time magazine and nodded.

            Feeling like a zombie I feel down by the chair and cried.

            I wept bitterly until I felt like I was going to be sick. I didn’t care if anyone saw me; I just keep moaning and crying.

            “Aelge what’s wrong?” April asked. She keeled by me and tenderly placed her hand on my shoulder. The action barely connected.

            Eva did the same. “Hay Aelge talk to us.”

            I didn’t move or try to stop crying. I just keep the tears flowing. I know I was starting to make a scene of my self, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to let the sorrow I’ve felt for so long come.

            Both April and Eva tried to get me to talk with no avail. “Go get Janna.” One finally said.

            When she came April and Eva departed because Janna told them to. Janna sat down carefully beside me and placed her arms around me. I didn’t know I was in the fetal position until then.

            “C’mon Aelge, why don’t we go to my office?”

            I didn’t respond, instead I keep crying. I wasn’t trying to be me; I was just crying heavily.

            Janna started rubbing my knuckles “Please let’s talk.”

            I finally nodded and Janna help me up. Once in her office I let myself sob until I was sick. Janna didn’t say anything for the 20 minutes I was crying. She stayed beside me, holding my hand until I spoke.

            “She…. she has…b-been…dead…” I huffed. “Morana… died today.”

            “I’m sorry.” She whispered.

            Some how that comforted me. A little bit of kindness goes a long way with me.

            I ended up saying in her office crying until journal time in which Janna is now watching me like a hawk. I don’t mind it though.

Reviews

[PyroKitty24]

How sad. I can relate to this. I've said many things like that, trying to get someone to care, and I've attempted to kill myself before. And I've also had a friend who killed themselves, so I can relate to that as well. This chapter really hit home, but the emotions were perfect for it

[Chris38]

A moving chapter.

[Tina Kline]

A very sad chapter. I felt for her.