The Gift of Gulit

Chapter Five

It's 2:47 am when I wake up, screaming and shaking. It takes me a few minutes to decide what is reality and what is not. I calm down after minutes pass and I end up staring at the wall again. How could I have fallen asleep? God that was a mistake. My body keeps telling me that I should rest, sleep sounds tempting... But I can't and will not! I must stay awake. My nightmares have gotten worse than before, they're more vivid than my other nightmares. I can practically feel what was happening. I bite my nails vigorously, unable to remain calm. I need to distract myself from this horrid reality. I push myself upwards and spring out of my bed and walk slowly downstairs. I look to the living room and plop down on one of our soft brown couches we never really used. Suddenly, I remember something, my stash. Curiosity came over me like a current pushing and pulling the white sand wanting for it to stay forever. I fumble through the pillows and underneath the couch cushions. My hand then touches something, a bottle. I hesitate, I didn't think it was still here. I grasp the object in my hands and retrieve it from the depths of the couches. I open my hand and reveal an orange pill bottle, small but not too small. The bottle was full. I had brought it to California once I moved and went to an old school which I got out of.

*Flashback*

"Are you sure Ava?" My old friend Jenny asks me, concern and worry filling her eyes. What for? She has done this multiple times. Is she not used to it by now?

"Yeah Jen , I'm sure, you know I have to stay awake." I say eager to get them from her.

"Why?" She asks, her brown eyes narrowing at me and her black hair shinning in the sunlight that shined from the school tops.

"Well...erm....I need to stay wake...um, you know I have to study." I say lying, it wasn't a full lie though I did study when I got tired of staring at the wall. Jen, still not convinced, but agrees, nods her head and pulls out three pill bottles.

"50" Jen says. I reach for my wallet and grab a fifty and hand it to her.

"Thanks." I say and walk away. Later that night I had the energy to stay up. I felt amazing, never before had I felt so alive. I kept popping the pills into my mouth once that feeling had diminished. Soon enough I ran out around 7 am but I was wide awake, which was good. However, Danny had soon caught in and found my stash and took them away, all but one.

*Flashback Over*

I stare at the orange bottle in my hands. I stand and walk to the sink and grab a clean cup and fill it with water. I take 2 pills out of the bottle and put them both into my mouth. I drink the water and swallow.

This is wrong, my sub conscience tells me.

I push the thought into the back of my mind. I don't fucking care anymore. I decide to take the pill bottle upstairs with me and head to my room. I open the door to my bedroom and step inside. Surely there is something I can do in this place. I turn on the light and start towards my bookshelf. I prefer books than people, well, ever since Evan came into my life I haven't really read anything. A small smile appears on my lips at the thought then fades when I know I have to tell him about why I almost tried to commit suicide. I skim over the books and notice a bright yellow one, I've never seen this before. I grab the skinny book from the shelf and when it reveals itself from the dark shadows of the bookshelf I recognize it as a journal. Only it's not mine...

Confused and curious, I open the journal and flip to the first page. I recognize this hand writing, It's my mother's. My breath gets caught up in my throat, and suddenly I cannot breathe. My head pounds, for exhaustion maybe, but I took pills, or from this journal. I have no memory of brining this journal with me. After they.....passed....I was allowed to take items from the house, stuff from my room, etc. I've never seen this though, it's been 2 years since they left this world, and all of a sudden this journal shows up.

Maybe it's a sign? From above? I shake my head at the thought. That's impossible...right? I shake the thoughts from my head and open the yellow journal. Inside, there are words written in my mother's handwriting. I flip through the book and back to the first page. It has my mother'a original name, Evelyn Robinson. I flip to the next page, and stare at the dates and calculate the age she was in my mind. She wrote this when she was sixteen, I'm sixteen. I read the first entry. She discusses her feelings toward the journal, it is her best friend, she has none. She talks about her abusive father and she is planning to kill herself. I stop reading when she says she is planning suicide. Could she have been going through a state if depression like I was? I read more and more and I'm on the fifth entry by the time my school alarm goes off. I stop reading and close the journal and sigh. Suddenly it occurs to me that I am not going to school from my breakdown on Monday. I go back to my bed and read. For some reason this entry stood out to me:

May 8th , 1989

Dear mother,

Sorry I haven't been writing to you but a lot has happened since you passed. Today papa beat me. He slapped me and told me that he is glad that you're dead and he wished I could've joined you. Sometimes I want to join you because I miss you too much. He's been getting worse every second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year, that passes by. He isn't following up like you told him. Everyday he is getting drunk and bring new women home. Today is your birthday and he didn't even come to the grave with me, he was busy with some girl. By the way, I put white tulips by your grave, I know they are your favorite. I miss you so much, I miss the times we laughed, talked, fought. It's raining outside. It's the kind of soothing and depressing rain in which I know you loved. 5 years ago you were here and now you're not. It was hard for me to understand, I was 11. Life is unfair I always say. However mother I've been writing to you everyday for 5 years, even though I get no reply it makes me feel closer to you. I miss you mom. I love you, always.

-Eve (Evelyn)

Tears well up in my eyes and my heart aches for the 16 year old who lost her mother younger than I was. I want to go back in time and tell her that everything is okay. Wow! How hypocritical of me to say such things! I want to help someone, when I can't even help myself. I wipe my eyes and decide to read more tomorrow or next week. Right now, I cannot, it makes my guilt expand inside of me, to know I ended my parent's lives. I like to say it's a gift, guilt is a gift that keeps on giving, and it never stops.

A/N:

Sorry I took so long! I've had a busy week but it will try to update more! Xx.