To Break a Heart and Silence

A fatal car accident causes a girl to break through her unconsciousness, and try to wake herself, before it's too late.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to react. Needless to say, I sat there silently. The breeze picked up a little bit, shaking the crisp fall leaves off the trees. I watched the red, orange and golden leaves unlatch from the tree as they gracefully twirled to the ground, and then I watched them as they gracefully landed onto the frozen November ground. I felt the temperature drop, as all color left my face. I sat down on the cold, damp ground; it was the most comforting thing around me. He looked at me, with a blank stare, and I returned a gaze of complete and utter sorrow. Tears filled my desperate eyes, and overflowing, they rolled down my icy cheeks, bringing eyeliner and mascara with them.

  There is nothing more disheartening in this world than when someone that means more to you than life itself goes astray, and when they go out into the world and they forget you, they forget why they ever needed you, and maybe even forget about you completely. When they receive a message from you and they have no sense of urgency to respond, or they see you and don't get the same butterflies in their stomach as they used to when they saw you. What do you do when you get the feeling that they don't need you anymore, and although they already promised you the world, you see the space in their world, that you used to fill, now filled with someone else? What do you do when you know that that other person will ever know him as well as you will? You see pictures of him with her, and know that the secrets he used to share with you in the most intimate of conversations, he is now sharing with her, sitting on the dock of a river, holding her hand. That same dock that he held you, told you he loved you and that he was never going to go. The same dock that he told you that he no longer chose to love you, and you were no longer everything he needed. What if he told you that the memories you two had and the dreams you two shared were no longer his dreams? What do you do when the dream that you had, that was meant for two people, was going to have to be lived out by you alone?

     Even when I slept, I knew I would see him. I saw every promise that he ever made, tearing apart right in front of me. I would see house that we dreamed of moving into ripped straight from the ground and sucked into the sky. The screams of our children that would never be born filled my ears, as they were swept away with the house. I would see him walking by, holding the hand of the girl that he loved, pushing a stroller and laughing down a sunny path, filled with flowers and butterflies. It wasn't me. I kept chasing him, trying to tell him that it was all a mistake, but the closer I got to him, the harder the rain poured. The more it rained, it became much harder to see him, and he began to run faster. The nightmares that I had would be like a reoccurring reminders that my life had truly come to a screeching halt.

I was trying not to act like pathetic. But I knew this was the end. I knew that if he left this time; he was not going to come back. He took his eyes off me, and looking at the sky, he turned around, and began walking back.

I couldn’t help but watch him walk away. His shorter brown hair blew with the breeze, and his frame didn’t seem so have any struggle against the strong gusts.

I watched him until he was just a shadowy figure, fading from my life, forever. Something about that day broke my heart. I couldn’t tell you if it was the fact that the most certain thing in my life just created a huge gap within me, or if my heart felt as if it had broken into a million tiny little pieces. I sat there on that ground. I looked up at the dim sky, as rain clouds rolled into view, and then seemingly paused right over me. The wind steadily blew harder, and rain began to sprinkle down. I pulled my knees up to my face, and hugged them as tight as I could, trying to comfort myself.

I looked up, and then I looked at everything around me. The wind gusts were beginning to race against my already frozen face. I put my face against the ground, and stayed there. I was too upset to walk, and too angry at myself for looking so pathetic and being so weak.

I stayed there that night. Unable to breathe and unable to move, I sat there in my emotions. It wasn’t like me to act like that either. It was completely out of character to let something like this define me in any way. I felt just like the trees. Everything around me was falling. But unlike a strong, sturdy tree planted in solid ground, I felt as though I was weak and bare, growing in sand. As I watched the leaves fall from my branches, I knew that if the wind blew too hard, I would no longer be standing.

I was still pretty much like the strong tree. I was watched the best thing in my life disappear. It shook me, but it wasn’t going to destroy me. I wasn’t going to let it.

                After a sleepless night lying in the woods, I got up and collected myself. I walked the mile back to my house, knowing that my mother wouldn’t even have care if I had died in that stupid forest. I walked through the door, and there she was, watching her soap operas. I shut the door, only to hear her hardly pleasant voice scream, “Charlotte, is that you?”

                I swallowed my emotions, and walked into the living room, “Yes. I’m here. I’m sorry. Carson and I got in a pretty big fight last night.”

                My mom looked at me and laughed. “You look like hell.” She said, noticing the mascara dried to my cheeks.  I fought the urge to scream at her. As I continued trying to decide if I wanted to fight with her, she opened her pouty, bright pink lips and said, “What he finally found a reason to dump you’re little a*s?”

                “Well mother,” I said, fighting the tears harder than ever, “he did. But I am fine and if he hadn’t then I would have broken up with him last night.”

                She looked at me, rolled and then popped some popcorn in her mouth with her bright pink acrylic nails. She turned her bleach blonde head away from me and then turned up the volume.

                My mother would be considered the epitome of a Dolly Parton want to be, straight out of Paris, Tennessee. It seemed as though almost every single thing about her was fake and everything about her big. Her personality, her hair and even her ego were big, very big. If I had ever ended up like that woman, I would probably kill myself, to save the world from that.

                I walked up into my room, slamming the door behind me. I walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. What I saw was almost alarming. My dark brown eyes were completely bloodshot, and the mascara that used to be surrounding them was mow resting on my pale cheeks. My auburn hair was completely disheveled, leaves and small sticks poking out through various spots. My pale skin seemed to be a little bit more pale than usual. I got out of my dirty jeans, putting my extremely comfortable t shirt and the tie-dyed sweatshirt I had gotten from the beach. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to sleep for a while, no matter how exhausted I was. I decided to go on a drive, clear my head, my thoughts and try to just enjoy myself.

                I slipped on some slippers, grabbed my keys and headed downstairs. I ran out the front door certain that if I were to see my crazy mother, I might go crazy.

                I made it out the front door, where my beautiful black 2006 Volkswagen Jetta was waiting patiently for me.

                I loved that car, not only because it was insanely beautiful, but also because I bought it. Spending countless hours waitressing at a small diner with that image in my head, there was nothing more special to me than my car.

                I hopped in and shut the door behind me. It was starting to get a little dark outside, but the cool early autumn breeze felt wonderful blowing through the window. I pulled out of my rural housing development, passing gently over the potholes. I made it on to the main highway. It was a beautiful night, the stars were shining brilliantly and the moon lit up the entire night sky. It was absolutely gorgeous and really brightened my mood. I decided that the headlights of the other cars were really distracting to the adventure that I was embarking on in hopes to improve my mood and truly get over Carson for good.             

                I cruised down the back roads as it began to get darker and darker. The moon began to disappear behind thick black clouds, leaving only remnants of light. I turned up the radio and let the wind carry my long, thick brown hair through the breeze. I turned on my bright lights and decided to just cruise.

                I woke up the next morning with a horrible headache. I felt sicker than the night that Carson had dumped me. I leaned up in my bed, and my back ached with the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my entire life. I got up, and got dressed. I didn’t know why I felt so horrible, but I did, and so I went downstairs and sat on the couch, trying to decide what could possibly be wrong with me.

                Several minutes passed, and I was unable to come to any conclusions.

  I decided not to waste my time, as I forced myself to get up and begin to get ready for the day. I got up, and in a moment, felt a terrible pain rush through my spine. "I need to get a new stupid bed." I whispered to myself, blaming the pain on the broken springs in my mattress. I walked to the bathroom, sore and exhausted, and shut and locked the door behind me. The pain grew worse though my back, and what I saw in the mirror surprised me. My make up was thick and smeared, as it was after every morning that I fell asleep without taking my make up off first. I wiped the make up off my eyelids, but with every stroke of my hand over my eyes, the more sensitive the area became. I came to realize that the little spot on my forehead, which I had thought to just be smeared mascara, would not come off. The more I scrubbed it, the more it began to hurt. This was stupid. It made me angry that I let myself get to this point in just the two days that Carson and I broke up. I mean, I was a disaster. "All these little bruises and injuries must have formed while I was asleep in the woods, or sometime during the break up."

           I reassured myself that everything that was wrong with myself was totally explainable... because it was. There was absolutely no reason that I let myself go, and no reason that I let myself go.
          Obviously I was not one hundred percent. If I was one hundred precent, I would not look and feel so terrible. I decided that I needed to pull myself together, and quickly.
       
          I hopped in the shower, and quickly got ready for the day. I threw on some old clothes that were laying on my bed, and slipped on some boots. I had to go to see Carson. I needed to. I did not give myself an option. I was going to force myself to talk to him, and at least understand why all these things happened the last time I encountered him. I ran downstairs, and went to grab my keys from the coat rack., but they were not there. I ran back upstairs and I checked my old pants pockets, and found nothing. I ran out to my car, and there they were, still plugged into the ignition. Yeah, anyone with eyes could see that I was the victim of a breakup. Scatterbrained and clueless, I ran back up to my house and locked the door.
I ran back to my car, hopped in, and started it up. Well, I revved the engine a few times, before the car actually started, but after my little victory, I pulled out of the driveway.

          I drove the fifteen minute drive to Carson's house. It was a very rainy day, and a weird one. I did not see a single car on the road, but that was not atypical for the low-populated area in which we lived. I got to his house to see that his car was the only car in the driveway, I guess he was the only person home. Without even ringing the doorbell, I ran through the front door screaming his name. I ran up to his room, but did not see him. I ran down to the basement, and did not see him. I ran out back into his back yard... He was not there.

"Carson!" I shouted, searching his house even further. "I know you are here. if you hid just because you heard my voice, I am going to kill you!"

I searched and searched, but he was nowhere to be found. "It was a stupid idea, anyway." I assured myself as I got back into my car and started the engine.

I drove back to my house, surprised that I had not noticed that my mother was not at home. I went back to my room and shut the door.

            "It's been such a weird day," I told myself as plopped down onto my bed. I mulled over everything that had happened, and tried to determine why today was, in fact, so strange. I began to think over the past few days, remember vividly, as if I were still in the moment, the breakup that Carson and I had had just two days ago. I remembered falling asleep in those woods, for not more than two minutes, and I remembered that there was not a single instinct within me telling me that I should get up, or any voices in me telling me that everything was going to be ok. I remember going home the next day, and I remembered the conversation with my mom. I remembered he nasty remarks, and my simple refusal to deal with her and her comments. I sifted through the past events, determined that there was something a little off about the whole situation.

         A few moments passed, and I was up to the drive that I had taken the night before. The drive thhat I had made to clear my head, and to try and figure out everything that was going on in my life. I remembered the ups and downs on the country roads and the breeze blowing through the car, making it chilly, but manageable. Then- without reserve, the memory shook me.

          I ran downstairs, looking for my mom. I went down to the basement, and ran outside, trying to locate the woman. I walked back inside, only to be momentarily interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. I went, and collecting my emotions, calmly answered it.

         "Hello." I said, trying to sound normal and sane. The phone kept ringing. "Great, must be unhooked." I followed the cord from the bottom of the phone to the outlet... It was plugged in. Disturbed by the problem, I let the phone go to voice mail, and the message machine went through it's usual response, "Hi, you have reached the Harrison family, we are not here right now, so just leave a message. Thanks and God bless you." The usual beep followed the uncharacteristic answer of my mother's voice on the voice mail machine.
         "Uhm, Hello Mrs. uhm... Miss Harrison, I just wanted to tell you that I am so sorry about what happened to uhm... Your daughter. I mean, I just, yeah. I am sorry about what happened and I really hope you do not think that uhm... this was my fault or anything. Let me know if there is anything uhm... you need from me. Alright. Oh, this is Carson. Ok, Bye."

     I sat on the floor next to the outlet, speechless. What could he have meant by what happened to me... I am fine. A little upset but fine.

    Just then, it all made sense to me. The bruises, the phone... This could not be happening to me.

I was in shock. It all made sense to me. In that moment, everything else in my life seemed so unimportant, so stupid and petty. In that moment I realized that I was trapped. I was trapped in a world that was not the world that I had grown up in. I was not living in reality, but rather, a universe that was created solely through my imagination. I got up, and poured a glass of water. For some reason, it seemed like the best idea at the time. I began to dig threw things that were laying around my house. Piles of papers and mail. I knew that there must be something to tell me what had happened. A clue or something, that could help tell me what was going on, and what I was supposed to do.

An hour passed, and I had made my way to the table in the living room. There was a piece of paper with some phone numbers on it, and an envelope which seemed to have some pictures in it. I sat down, and first studied the phone numbers, but none of them seemed familiar. Then, I opened the envelope. The glass of water slipped right out of my hand, and stunned, I sat down in disbelief.

     I did not know what to say, or how to react. I thought that I understood what was going on, but I suppose it was much worse that I had originally guessed. As the glass fell and hit the floor, it disappeared. That alone was weird. But when I opened the envelope I saw pictures of my car, totalled and destroyed. The pictures were from every angle. As I looked through the pictures, I began to cry. Was this a dream? Was I dead? How did my mother feel about the whole situation? Did dad come down from Maryland to see me? Was Mom planning a funeral?

     Questions filled my head as I sat in disbelief. I did not understand what had happened. But I needed to find out. There was no way that I was not going to try and solve this. There was no way that I was going to sit here, invisible to everyone, and live the rest of my life, or, worst case scenario, spend the rest of my eternity like this.

     I put all the thoughts of my current state behind me, because all the nerves had made me more thirsty than I was before. I opened the same pantry, and the glass that I had dropped on the floor was sitting right were it was before I grabbed it. I picked it up again, filled it with water at sat it down. It disappeared again, right back to it's place in the cabinet.

"Well, this all out to be a blast." I whispered to myself as I went and sat down on the couch.

Just as I sat down, my mother walked through the door... She was on the phone with someone, and she was using her fake voice that she used with all strangers on the phone. There were talking about bills and insurance. I did not really understand what the conversation was about, but I listened attentively, hoping to gather clues.

"Alright, sir. You have a wonderful day now, ya hear? Don't work too hard now, darling. Alright. Thanks again."

My mom finished her conversation and put the phone down on the little table that all the pictures and phone numbers were.

She sat down on the couch next to me, but I undoubtedly knew that she could not see or hear me.

"That little selfish b***h." My mom whispered as she scanned through the photos. I looked at her, and even though her words were brash and rude, I could tell that she cared, or at least cared a little bit, because there was a little tear forming in the crease of her right eye.

     I sat with her for a little bit, as she stared at the pictures. I wish I knew if I were alive or dead, but I guess spending this moment with my mom, where it seemed as though she actually cared about me, was better than trying to arrive at the dreadful conclusion.

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar, spelling... Please let me know what I can do to make what I have of my story (so far...) better!!!!