Tristan
April 6th, 2014
Two Days Until Goodbye
“You haven’t eaten in days. Please, Tristan. Just take a few bites of a sandwich,” Mom begged, sitting across from me. The sound of her voice annoyed me more and more each day. She slid the plate in front of me and asked me to eat again.
“Not hungry,” I replied, pushing the sandwich back toward her.
She nodded once. “Your father and I are worried about you, Tris. You’re not talking to us. You’re not letting us in. You can’t just keep all your emotions bottled up like this. You have to talk to us. Let me know what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”
“I do.”
“Trust me, you don’t.”
“No. I do, honey.” She reached out, placing her hand over mine, almost to comfort me.
I didn’t want her comfort.
I wanted her to leave me alone.
“Okay. Well, if you can’t talk to us, at least talk to some of your friends. They’ve been calling and stopping by every day, and you haven’t spoken one word to them.”
“I got nothing to say to anyone.” Standing from the table, I turned to walk away, but paused when I heard Mom cry.
“It’s breaking my heart to see you like this. Please, just say whatever’s on your mind.”
“What’s on my mind?” I turned to her, my brows knit, my stomach knotted, my mind clouded. “What’s on my mind is the fact that you were behind the fucking wheel. What’s on my mind is the fact that you fucking walked away with a broken arm. What’s on my mind is that my family is fucking dead and you were the one driving the car—you were… YOU KILLED THEM! You did this! You’re the reason they are dead! You murdered my family!” My throat tightened, my fists formed, and I stopped talking.
Mom cried more and more, her howls becoming louder and louder. Dad rushed into the room and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her some sort of peace of mind. I stared at her, feeling the distance between us. I felt the beast inside me growing more and more each passing moment. As I studied her tears, it should’ve sickened me that I didn’t feel pity for her. It should’ve worried my soul that I didn’t feel the need to comfort her.
I merely hated her.
Because of her, they were gone.
Because of her, I was gone.
I was becoming a monster inside, and monsters didn’t comfort people. Monsters destroyed everything that crossed their path.
When I stepped into the shed, I slammed the door, locking it from the inside. “Shit!” I shouted, staring into the darkened space, staring at the scarred walls and bookshelves. The memories were rushing over me, choking my mind, suffocating my heart. I couldn’t take anymore.
I sent one of the bookshelves flying to the other side of the room, my heart beating at a speed I was certain would cause an attack. I leaned against the closest wall and closed my eyes, trying to take back the control of my breaths and my heart that had somehow been stolen from me.
There was a knock at the door.
I wouldn’t answer it.
I couldn’t.
I could’ve killed him. I could’ve killed him. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I knew Elizabeth would try to pull me back to her, pull me into the light. She would try to save me from myself. I couldn’t be saved.
She kept tapping lightly, and my footsteps moved toward the sound of her knocks. My hands ran across each other before I stood in front of the door, placing my hands flat against it.
I assumed that her hands were resting on the other side of the door, her fingertips mirroring mine.