Pinky: A Fictional Narrative

I heard a feminine voice call out to me as I blazed out the front door. "Good morning Amber! Oh, where are you--" I cut her off with a sharp slam. I couldn't look back. With each step towards my car, I inhale painful sobs of air. I feel as if I don't know who I am, as if I was that 18 year old girl hearing the news of his death for the first time. I couldn't think of the name that belongs to me, or any one else but my father. Any face my subconscious offers had the resonance of a total stranger, then was replaced with the haunting image of

As I helplessly watch my fifteen year old roommate fall to pieces in front of me, I feel everything around me slow to a crawl. Blood pounds my ear drums, I feel the color drain from my cheeks, and my feet take me forward as if they have a mind of their own. I fall to my knees and suddenly everything speeds up again – the pounding in my ear drums intensifies, my hands are trembling but I manage to grasp the side of the bed in an attempt to bring myself close to her. Her face is buried into her sheet. Muffled screaming escapes her as I whisper gentle reassurances in her ear, hoping with everything I have that she can hear me. I know she doesn’t. Even if she does, she can’t make sense of it right now. She’s stuck somewhere else, somewhere she revisits every day of her life and every time she closes her eyes to sleep.

I need you home now.” This was my wakeup call and I knew that I had to hurry home. “I’m coming home now mom. I’ll be there in a bit. Everything is going to be alright.” Keeping my composure I went to the NHS president and told her that I had a family emergency and that I had to go. For some reason she was giving me a hard time about it but after seeing my eyes she asked if everything was alright. I just said I had to go and she finally let me go without asking anything further of me. I darted out of the cafeteria doors taking a right on the first floor hall way on the east side of the building and then a left I went through one of the schools entrances on 59th court. I live on the same street as the school just three miles away. At that moment I felt stranded. I did not have my “proper gear” to run it as fast as I could and at the time for some reason I did not bring my car to school. However, I knew I had to get home fast so I took off. As the cars passed me I lost myself in my head. I was not crying or even sad. I was unsure of how I should react. Then the thoughts of what if I never get to talk to him again ran through my head. That is when the tears started to pour down my cheeks as I continued to pant.

I walked away feeling like I was a complete failure and that I didn’t deserve to go on. On the way home my mother tried to talk to me, but, I put on my headphones and cried silently. Once we were home my father asked how it went. The tears that were in my eyes and they became more evident as my shoulders and chest were shaking and trembling. The only sound in the room was the sound of me crying and wailing. I started crumbling and falling to the ground and my mother and father rushed to my side. They held me until the tears came to a stop and a little bit afterwards

The song I chose was “I’m Sorry” by the artist Joyner Lucas. This song has a pretty deep meaning to me. It’s about a man who commits suicide. Last year around Christmas time I met this guy. He was a friend of a close family member of mine. He was always hanging around them so naturally we started talking. I’m the type of person who cares about people a little too much. I started noticing that he got more quiet and more to himself. I never thought he wanted to hurt himself. I trusted him and he knew he could trust me too. Things at home weren’t good. He was hurting. No kid should ever go through that (he is my age).

During this time, I felt alone. My parents were at the hospital a lot. I felt I could not trust anyone. I had no one to share my secrets with. I began to hide my feelings. I plastered a fake smile on my face and pretended everything was going to be okay. I knew it was not going to be okay. If Kaylee got her heart transplant, the family would have to get rid of our cat, Maggie. If Kaylee did not get a heart in time, she would die.

When you’re asleep, the pain stops. There are no thoughts or ideas that run through your brain, you are emotionless. I wish I could feel like that now, all the thoughts start to get to you’re head. At times I wish that I could end it, just to stop the pain. But I need to stay alive, to make sure they’re all okay. Afterwards, I can do as I like but right now, they are my main priority. I can't lose them, they are my one and only family. If they’re gone, then i'm nobody. I just need to go, the longer I wait the more I put myself at risk. Even though I hate myself for what i’ve done, I still need to stay

I could hear my breathing as if it was a voluntary action. As I saw my mom car come screeching into the driveway, she rushed out, I ran up to her as I tearfully asked, "Is he okay?" With hesitancy and a sorrow- filled voice she said, "He's dead," I screamed over and over again, "No, no, not my brother! Anyone but him!" and I broke down crying, I felt as if I was paralyzed, I felt like I was suffocating; as if a giant hand was clamped around my heart, I wanted to run, I wanted to scream, I wanted for it to not be

That day I was at school but was very worried about my little dog Fifi. Fifi was my life, and last night I had found her bleeding a little from her privates. I had cleaned her and set her on her bed with some cotton below her for the night. But today morning, after I walked her and fed her, she seemed okay I had settled her on her bed while going to school. Still, somehow, I couldn’t concentrate on my school work my mind kept going back to Fifi the whole day. Finally when I got home I rushed to her room and opened the door to see her passed out on her bed, when I saw her my heart literally dropped because I thought she was dead. I picked her up to see that she was still breathing but as I picked her up I could hear her cry and I broke out in

My father finally spoke up and said abruptly, we are moving to California. I said what!. That answer moving to California, was almost equal to my uncle telling me "Your Sister Jackie is dead." I knew that my girlfriend, my anchor on earth was disappearing from my life. And now she was gone, 35 days after I lost my sister. My earth angle, I dreamed of being my wife was gone. I felt like I was having a nightmare and couldn't wake up, how could all this be happening to me. Despair sit like a stone in my stomach, like concrete boots dragging me toward what felt like my inevitable end. "I'm not going to make it. "I was in a state of melancholy depression.Laced with a fatal sense of my own wretchedness. I was fourteen years old and felt like I was

I crippled down into a pit of confusion and sadness. Although this happened often, it always seemed to hit home hard as the months progressed. I arrived home and tossed myself into the soft comfort of my bed. Curled up into a ball, I tightened and released my grip on my white covers repeatedly, my body slowly dozing in and out of slumber as I watched small ripples in the outdoor pool shine upon my bedroom wall, the moonlight brightening it. Slowly the whispers began developing, and I allowed them. I needed to listen, they crowded my mind and maybe they were all right. So, there I sat in the silence. Jabbled words filled the room, they seemed to be everywhere. Woman, children, and men. I tensed at the words, trying to make out what they were telling me. In the background faint noises played, either from past songs the band and I had developed or ones that just kept coming. Threats or sarcastic remarks, occasional words remembered from my parents or enemies. They kept coming, intensifying by the second, getting louder and louder, until the point where... I snapped. I sat up and screamed into the darkness, pulling at my hair and kicking my feet, as if I were having some kind of a toddler tantrum. My breath quickened and my nose wrinkled, like how it always did when I got worked up. Slowly, and then all at once they stopped. My mind gathered in the silence, and I slammed back down into the pillow, turning my head into it, screaming once more until

All I do is lay on the couch, with a picture of my grandma, shredding gallons of tears while I attempt to watch a show on tv, but it is just too blurry for me to know what I am watching.  Everything happening just doesn’t feel real.  It seems as if I am living in the heartbreaking movies that my mom loves so much.  Sleep does not come easy, it seems like the room has gotten more humid from all my tears.  I toss and turn in my bed, not able to find that perfect position.  Once I am able to fall asleep, the sun washes my room in light.  Waking up after my quick nap, I have seconds of feeling normal before I remember the prior day's events, then my heart sinks deeper and I come close to sprinkling my pillow with even more tears.  Luckily, I seem to have completely dried out of tears.  For the rest of the week, I continue to mope around trying to distract myself by watching tv, and trying to play games with my sister, but nothing

At that point all I would ever hear from people was, “oh you poor thing”, or “I’m sorry!” The only thing I heard was people pitying me, but in contrary, those words and moments only sparked a strength that I never thought was achievable. I promised myself to turn those words that represented sorrow into drive to fuel that strength. The first memory that I realized that inner strength was when I was first told that I had cancer. I heard the door click open, five doctors appeared in their white coats, they would come in surrounding me at the hospital bed. I just laid there confused about why all of this was happening. None of them spoke for a minute. My guess is that they were trying to figure out how to tell a fourteen-year-old that she has cancer as if they expected me to start breaking down sobbing. Instead, my eyes refused to shed a single tear as just hearing the words, “ You have cancer.” Those three words turned my life upside down in a matter of a second. Then I proceeded to process them in my mind. Trying to calculate a solution as if it were a math problem. As if it was that easy, but I still managed to ask the question that I never

x-rays on my hand, a nice lady by the name of Dr. Rust came into my room and

I woke up in a cold sweat. Don’t do this to yourself again, I told myself. He’s gone. He doesn’t want you, he chose her. I still remember the day you told me you loved someone else. I can still feel my face fall and hear my heart break. I wanted to hate you, but I wanted to hate her even more. But I couldn’t make myself hate either of you, especially not the person who once brought me so much happiness.