‘I Don’t, I Can’t. Not Anymore.’ by Eden, Fallibroome Academy

I sit there in the hostile hospital room, the cold air burning the nape of my neck, my eyes averted. I’m frightened. Frightened that if i look into her eyes one more time it’ll be the last. I lift my hand gingerly, I think about taking hers in mine, squeezing it like I wished she had done when I was young. I place my hand back to its rightful position by my side, comforting me. I’ve always comforted myself when she wouldn’t. Her bed looks stiff, uncomfortable. I think about getting her another pillow, I think about easing her pain. But I don’t. I can’t. Not anymore.

I sit there in the hostile cafe avoiding her gaze ,she looks strange, she looks unfamiliar. She asks me questions: “ are you eating enough?” please. It used to be, “ look at you, no one likes a fat girl, you should put the biscuits down!”. Why is it that her words cut like knives, even now, even after all these years? I look up at her into her sorrowful eyes, I try and I mean I really try to feel sympathy for her but i don’t, I can’t. Not any more.

I sit there in the car staring straight at the road. I’m silent. She’s silent. I exhale. I hear her mumble something and she sounds weak. She sounds old. “You should come home for christmas break” she sighs half sincerely, “ I” she pauses “ I need help. You know ever since you moved out i’ve been all alone and it’s not like you ever call!” She sounds exasperated now, I should’ve expected it, I did expect it, I expected her to accuse me of not calling her ,not seeing her enough, not spending time with her and she’s right, I don’t. I can’t. Not anymore.

She looks down at me, her hostile hazel eyes boring into my soul. “ I just want what’s best for you, you know. I mean look at you, no one likes a fat girl, you should put the biscuits down!”. I try and I mean I really try not to let it fall, but a solitary tear burns my flesh, settling uncomfortably on my now red and blotchy cheek. I reach out to grab her hand, I reach out to feel her, to know her, I reach out to take some of the pain I know she must feel in her heart but she pushes my hand down with her needle fingers piercing my heart for the hundredth time. I want to reach out again but i don’t, i can’t. Not anymore.

As they lower her casket I no longer feel the hostility I once did, I no longer feel the years of distance growing ever thicker, the visage of us shattering into ever smaller pieces. I want to reach out again, I want to feel her touch, I want to look into her eyes, I want to ask her if she felt the same hostility I did but I don’t. I can’t. Not anymore.