Categories > Original > Drama > To Be Left Behind
I never realized how much my life would fall apart without her. Calle was the glue that held my life together. It’s been three months, four days, six hours and twelve minutes since the car crash. That damned car crash. I’ve escaped the numbness, I wish I hadn’t. That was the only thing holding back the sorrow, the flashbacks. Before, all I could do was sleep, now I can’t manage to even close my eyes. Her face, brown curls blowing against her olive skin, piercing yet soft brown eyes… Haunting yet comforting me in and out of sleep. For the most part I can get through a day, but the waves of despair just consume me all too often. She’s gone. She’s gone; the truth that I can’t wrap my mind around, but is slapping me in the face every minute of every day. Every day that goes by feels like a waste without her. Aiden is at least a little comfort; he’s one of the only people who seem to care anymore. But even he can’t fill the void she left in my life.
A noisy classroom. Laughing, talking, loud students. Open notebooks, the smell of sharpies and graphite. Notes being thrown across desks, gum being chewed, gossip being whispered hastily before the bell rings. All the desks are full, except for one in the second to last row. A boy sits next to the empty desk, his head on his own desk, elbows wrapped around his face, shielding him from the outside world. Another student turns from his seat in front of the boy, and leans on his desk, “Demetri? Demetri. Come on man!” He shook the boy’s elbow.
Demetri raised his head, his moppy brown hair covering his eyes. “Go away. Aiden, I’m not in the mood.” Aiden rolled his eyes, “Not in the mood for what? Smiling? Learning? Come on, dude. It’s been four months. We all feel the loss, and it was a total bummer, but you have to learn to get on with things. Being all depressed isn’t going to bring her back.”
Demetri clenched his fist and looked down, his hazel eyes burning with tears, trying to think of a retort, or a way to prevent himself from punching his best friend, and only friend, in the face. “Just shut up…” he ended up muttering, right as the bell rang.
After class, when the entire class had mobbed and shoved through the door into the hall, Demetri walked out. Holding his books close to his chest, and keeping his head down, making his was silently to his locker. He opened his locker, closing his eyes, fighting the grief that waited for him. It pained him to keep the photograph of her and himself, just the summer before, clipped to his locker wall. Her bright smile, the two of them laughing at some hidden joke, just months before the accident… Oh, how things had changed.
He looked at the picture, tears now flowing down his face, and ripped the photo off the inside of his locker door. He felt like screaming at it, sobbing, falling to his knees, disappearing… He looked at the photo one last time, gripping it, and then tore it down the middle; perfect halves, him on one side, her on the other. He gritted his teeth, tears racing down, and ripped the picture into shreds, letting them flutter down to the ground and then stepping on them with his black Converse. Looking down at the shreds, he immediately regretted it; desperately wanting that picture to hold close to his heart then pin it back up to the locker wall. He swept up the scraps with his hands, tears falling onto them and staining the image. He swore and let the pieces fall into his backpack. Scrubbing at his cheeks, he ran off to his next class.
A noisy classroom. Laughing, talking, loud students. Open notebooks, the smell of sharpies and graphite. Notes being thrown across desks, gum being chewed, gossip being whispered hastily before the bell rings. All the desks are full, except for one in the second to last row. A boy sits next to the empty desk, his head on his own desk, elbows wrapped around his face, shielding him from the outside world. Another student turns from his seat in front of the boy, and leans on his desk, “Demetri? Demetri. Come on man!” He shook the boy’s elbow.
Demetri raised his head, his moppy brown hair covering his eyes. “Go away. Aiden, I’m not in the mood.” Aiden rolled his eyes, “Not in the mood for what? Smiling? Learning? Come on, dude. It’s been four months. We all feel the loss, and it was a total bummer, but you have to learn to get on with things. Being all depressed isn’t going to bring her back.”
Demetri clenched his fist and looked down, his hazel eyes burning with tears, trying to think of a retort, or a way to prevent himself from punching his best friend, and only friend, in the face. “Just shut up…” he ended up muttering, right as the bell rang.
After class, when the entire class had mobbed and shoved through the door into the hall, Demetri walked out. Holding his books close to his chest, and keeping his head down, making his was silently to his locker. He opened his locker, closing his eyes, fighting the grief that waited for him. It pained him to keep the photograph of her and himself, just the summer before, clipped to his locker wall. Her bright smile, the two of them laughing at some hidden joke, just months before the accident… Oh, how things had changed.
He looked at the picture, tears now flowing down his face, and ripped the photo off the inside of his locker door. He felt like screaming at it, sobbing, falling to his knees, disappearing… He looked at the photo one last time, gripping it, and then tore it down the middle; perfect halves, him on one side, her on the other. He gritted his teeth, tears racing down, and ripped the picture into shreds, letting them flutter down to the ground and then stepping on them with his black Converse. Looking down at the shreds, he immediately regretted it; desperately wanting that picture to hold close to his heart then pin it back up to the locker wall. He swept up the scraps with his hands, tears falling onto them and staining the image. He swore and let the pieces fall into his backpack. Scrubbing at his cheeks, he ran off to his next class.
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