BeckeeRenae's photostream

Every second is a highlight
When we touch don't ever let me go
Dirty dancing in the moonlight
Take me down like I'm a domino

Waking up on a cold pillowcase next to the imperfections of a bed that has recently been slept in was never a dream of mine. I rub my thumb softly over the spot on my sheets where your head used to be and pretend I'm brushing your hair out of your eyes as you sleep.

When the moon rises high into the sky and I close my eyes, I dream of beautiful islands, bright city lights, and holding your hand as we lay in fields and gardens forgotten by man. Then my dreams color themselves black and gray and become nightmares worse than those written about in books. You turn towards me, an darkness in your eyes I could never imagine. Your teeth are jagged like glass, and your fingers curl around my skin. You're an animal and I'm your prey. The clouds cover the sun, and I'm blind. The pain overwhelms me. You're screams reverberating through my eardrums, your hands leaving bruises on my face, your hatred consuming me like a fire.

Then I wake up.
I turn and am surprised to find your eyes staring deeply into mine. You smile, and I can't tell whether or not I'm dreaming.

You can be whomever you let yourself believe that you are.

The clock strikes three, and I pinch my arm, hard enough to draw blood, to numb the pain.

Spinning. Everything is spinning. The room, my mind, my thoughts, my heart. I push my spine further and further into the wall as your screams get louder. The sharp antiseptic smell of the hospital curls its claws around my ribs and with every breath, it gets harder to fill my lungs with air. The moon is shining and the hospital waiting room is empty except for a few lifeless chairs and my comatose skeleton.

“John over-dosed.” Only a few hours, those two words reverberated through my head like a voice through an empty cave. Tragedy comes in three steps: shock, grief, and unending paranoia. The tears took a few minutes to set in, but once they did, they never stopped. My breath came in short gasps and everything in my chest fell down my spine, to a casket unknown. The terror shook my hands as I drove to the hospital, running light after light. When I arrived, I almost turned around to leave because it was impossible to ignore your screams which resonated through the sterile, white walls and the nurses rushed back and forth across the floor.

Glass breaking, women crying, you yelling obscenities, the hard clash of metal restraints against the hospital bed. “Stay where you are!” A doctor covered in blood and sweat commanded me, as I fought ever muscle in my body. Your screams are nonsensical and horrific, and the darkness closes in on my body. I have nowhere to go, nothing I can do.

Even when I closed my eyes, images of you flashed onto my eyelids, screaming at me. You were anything and everything to me. The brother I always wished I could have, my childhood friend, my companion. I could hear the doctor’s instructions as he pumped your stomach, but all I could imagine is your face as you consumed all the drugs that brought you here. A late night party binge for which I couldn’t help but feel you would pay the price. You were always imagining, creating, and pushing the limits of everything you knew was true. Maybe this time you pushed too far. My heart wept for you as I remembered the first time we drank, coke and vodka in my mom’s plastic cups. As I remembered our accidental kiss, when we were both too tired and drunk to know the difference. As I remembered holding your hand as you tried not to cry about your parents divorce. As I sat in this same hospital after all four of your car accidents and your numerous violent outbreaks at home. I try to ignore your screams coming from the room next to my head and imagine your comforting, omniscient voice, “You know everything will be all right, you know everything will work itself out. You’re family to me and family sticks together.” As I sit in the hospital room for the seventh time, waiting, I’m sticking with you, but this time, I doubt everything will be all right.

The clock strikes four, and I pinch my arm, hard enough to draw blood, to numb the pain.

Oh the thinks you can think when you think about Seuss!
Sister and best friend

Photo credit to MaryKatherine (EmmKay)