The Yellow Umbrella

Chapter Eighteen: Escape Plan

TW: SUICIDE

Sadness.

It was the only emotion I felt, it coated every fiber in my body, every broken bone and stitch. It consumed every other emotion, taking up any room there could have been to feel anything else. There was no escape from this sadness. Its presence was so heavy, it was almost tangible. Every breath I took reminded me it was there.

Worst of all, it wasn't the kind of sadness you could release from crying or smashing your mom's favorite vase. It was the kind of sadness you kept inside. The kind that brewed inside your core, tearing you apart piece by piece. But no one could tell or understand that wretched sadness. It ate away at me like a mosquito that I couldn't swat away. I had to pretend that I was fine, that killing my girlfriend was fine.

Everything was fine.

Another side effect of the sadness was feeling like I could cry at any given moment, but the tears never came.

I spent my days in the hospital pretending to be asleep so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone. That way, I could sit in absolute silence and feel this sadness to its full extent. I didn't want to feel like this anymore, but I was scared of what would happen if I tried to talk about it. I probably deserved to feel like this anyway. It wasn't until my mom pestered a nurse while she thought I was sleeping that I discovered it was called grief.

My mom, however, would not accept my defeat. She argued with the nurses, demanding they give me whatever drug to snap me out of this spell, but there was nothing they could do. And anyways, there was only one thing I wanted, one thing that I was sure would set me free from this feeling, this guilt.

"It's grief, Mrs. Morrow," The nurse said, "That's why we advised you not to tell him about the girl. It makes the healing process a whole lot harder."

My mom scoffed, "Her name was Mia. My son loved her, I couldn't lie to him. Please, you're a mother. Tell me what I can do."

"Give him time." She sighed and walked away.
The nurses were over my mom's constant helicoptering. I kinda was too.

At night, I waited. I waited till the footsteps and voices were far away, the door was closed, the room was still. Then, I would try to cry. There was this ache in my chest, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't empty it. Some nights, when I really hated myself, I would read old texts from Mia, look at videos and pictures of us. I ignored the messages and posts that blew up my phone after the accident from people who didn't even know I existed at school. All their messages were the same, wishing me to get well soon or have a speedy recovery. There was even a page online dedicated to Mia. When I got the message from Brandon telling me to hang in there, I wanted to text Mia and laugh about it.

But then I would remember.

It's hard to grasp how she was here a couple weeks ago, doodling in class, making fun of my driving, ruffling my hair in the hallway between passing periods.

Then poof! She was gone.

How could someone so great be on earth one minute, and then just not be? Where did they go? I just couldn't accept it. A piece of me hoped it was all a scheme, she faked her own death and would walk into my hospital room with that same sloppy smile that made my heart melt.

I clung to the dream that she was somewhere out there, and we would one day meet again.

---

I was nearing my last few days in the hospital when an unexpected visitor came. Both my ankle surgeries went well, my doctor said I was lucky and would be able to walk again on crutches. I was feeling far from lucky when I heard the knock on my door. I was about to pretend to sleep again because I assumed it was my mom. Her constant smothering was making me more suicidal than my broken ankle, but I realized my mom wouldn't have knocked. She was a bust-through-the-door kinda person. My eyes narrowed as the door cracked open. In a moment of panic and lack of desire for social interaction, I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. I listened as light footsteps crept near me, and then I heard something rustle on my nightstand. Curious, I opened my eyes to see Ricky staring at me, a sad smile teasing her lips.