Blush (33 page)

BLOOD; RED, WARM, SLIPPERY, and bitter. That’s all
that I can see, feel, and smell. The darkness covers more than the
sky, it covers my whole life now.

She can’t get out. “Get her out! She’s stuck, please
get her out!“

No one can hear me. I’m screaming. My voice is
fading into the same darkness that my fear hides in. My hands are
numb. The tears are breaking through this life and I don’t think
that death can help with the pain. She will not respond to me.
Quiet, dark, unwritten words are all that I can see and hear.

The sound is gone and an ear piercing calm comes
over me. I can do it. I can do it. I want to save her, but I can’t.
I can’t, I can’t move through the darkness it’s too thick, so
thick.

“
Addie? Are you ok?“ I need to get myself out of
this stupid seat belt.

My hand is stretching to grab ahold of her. “Addie
can you hear me?“ Be strong Abby. Be strong Abby. Be strong Abby.
“Someone please get us out of here!“ My voice is so weak. “Please
someone help us!“

She’s so far away. What am I supposed to do? “Addie?
Wake up, you’re going to be ok. Addie, please wake up. I’m so sorry
Addie.“

I can’t see through the tears erupting through the
holes of my soul. Addie’s head is pushed against the roof of the
car that is now upside down. My hand reaches for her cold lifeless
hand. “Don’t leave me Addie. Please!“

Blood is covering our fingers. If I squeeze and I
don’t let go she can’t leave me. “Please. Please. Please. Don’t
leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. I love you Addyson. I’m
so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!“

THE NIGHTMARES ARE HAUNTING my days and nights. Sleep
has become a memory at this point. I close my eyes and my twin
sister is all I see, so yea, you can say sleep hasn’t been an
option for me in a long time.

The last time I saw Addie she was covered in
blood and that was the worst moment of my life and will haunt me
every day. I close my eyes.

The darkness that fills the room brings back
the memory of the nightmare in full force and the tears escape from
the locked room I keep them in. I can still feel the warmth of the
blood on my hands and hear the crippling silence that takes hold of
my fear.

The glow that peeks in through the window
from the street lights is the only thing that brings me comfort
now. Dr. Kendrick had always said that I had survivor’s guilt.

Addie was brilliant, she wanted to be a
doctor just like our dad and while both of our parents are
successful surgeons, she was always the daddy’s girl and wanted to
be just like him. I, on the other hand, clung to our mom, but I
never had the desire to be like my parents, I have my own dreams
that I want to follow.

Addie dreamed about finding a cure for
cancer. She wanted to save the world and I wanted to write about
it. I wanted to be the beams that supported her dreams. I miss her
so much. Tears are all I have to offer and that isn’t going to save
anyone from anything. It damn sure isn’t saving me from myself.

I don’t deserve to be here, she should have
lived and I should have died. Her light was so bright and mine is
so dull and on the verge of burning out. The physical pain that I
feel is blanketing me and one day very soon I will be covered in
darkness all alone and gone forever.

I reach for my buzzing phone that is plugged
in next to my bed.

“Hello“ I say knowing my best friend Amy is
on the other end.

“So I just met the hottest guy and fucked him
in a coat closet at a party. I’m such a whore.“ Amy giggles.

“Is that all you ever do is fuck random hot
guys? Can I live your life for five minutes?“ I sigh as I roll my
eyes.

“Hell yes you can! By the way I totally just
met Luciana Russo and Serafina Manzini.“ Amy says practically
hysterical.

Oh I wish I had my best friend’s carefree
life.

“Are you kidding me right now? The Super star
actress Luciana Russo and Vogue sex goddess Serafina Manzini? What
are they like?“ I sigh.

“OMG they are completely fucking hot and I’m
telling you if I wasn’t a complete whore for the male species I
would totally drool at their feet. They are so sweet and totally
down to earth.“

I sigh into the phone because Amy is so brave
and here I am in my bed at ten o’clock on a Friday night. I am
twenty two years old I should be having fun.

“What are you doing on this fab Friday and
please don’t tell me your already in your pajamas?“

I drop my head to the Victoria secret shorts
and t-shirt that I decided on for bed embarrassed that she knows my
boring ass so well.

“No I am not in my PJ’s and I’m offended
actually.“

“Yeah ok doll I know better. Gotta go. Love
you“

“Love you too.“ I push the end button and
snuggle back into the darkness of my empty room.

The trees are so beautiful, I am amazed at the beauty
as I stare out of my bedroom window, drinking my coffee. I can't
believe that this time next week Amy and I will finally be in the
same time zone.

I would probably be jumping up and down for
joy, if I hadn't sprained my ankle. The swelling has gone down a
lot, but it still hurts.

I decided I would run to class two weeks ago
to keep from being late for finals, but that didn’t work out.
Needless to say, I fell, sprained my ankle, and now it takes me
twice as long to get anywhere.

I really am looking forward to my best friend
coming home from college, I haven't seen her in what feels like
forever and I need my friend right now. Amy has just graduated with
her communication degree from NYU. I am proud of her for going for
her dreams and probably a little jealous too, although, I would
never tell her that. I, on the other hand, haven’t been very
adventurous in the twenty- two years I have been given. How can I
be? With the accident, and my overprotective parents.

I finished pre-med at UCLA two weeks ago. My
father expected that I would follow in my parents’ footsteps. Being
a doctor is the last thing in the world I want to be. Especially
after the accident, there is no way I can be a surgeon and deal
with death and despair. I cringe at the thought.

I want to be a journalist and I am now, well
a beginner anyway. I just landed a journalist position at
Page
Six
, a big time magazine in LA. I want to write to inspire
people. Unfortunately, my parents have no clue what I am doing, and
truthfully, I really don’t either. If my father finds out about
this secret it will mean I am unwelcome to be a part of my family,
he will disown me.

I am supposed to start the medical program at
UCLA in the fall and I don’t know what I am going to do. One thing
I do know is that my soul will not survive this too.

Dr. Kendrick, shrink-at-large, said that the
anxiety I have had for the whole doctor thing is called Post
Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD provided courtesy of someone
slamming into my car and killing my sister on our sixteenth
birthday.

It is either I’m happy or my father is happy,
it can’t be both and I hate him for that. Sitting at that kitchen
bar four years ago as I listened to him tell me I would never be a
writer killed what little hope I had left in my soul, the
excitement I had for life. I was sure that I would never be ok
after that and finding who I am as a person would never happen.

I did have happiness for a little while and
then that was ripped from my hands too. Marco and I met two years
ago in our Chemistry class, it was really boring. We would keep
each other entertained while playing movies on our iPads. It became
a competition to see who could come up with the funniest or lamest
movie from the eighties. I had never looked forward to any class
like I did that one.

It has been three months since Marco left to
go back home to Brazil. He’s was my boyfriend slash fiancé. He had
proposed to me at Laurel Gardens, on the bench next to the
fountain, one week before he left. He always said he would be there
for me no matter what. But, once he got on that plane I never heard
from him again.

A tear falls from my emerald green eye as I
remember that day. “Baby I will be back, don’t be so sad, I love
you so much,“ he said as he kissed the tip of my nose. He hugged me
and then walked onto the plane. I just know that something has
happened, but I don’t know where to begin, his cell phone always
goes to voice mail when I call. The thoughts that flood my already
crazed mind send the tears exploding from my eyes. I want
desperately to go to Brazil and find him. I am on the edge, ready
to jump.

THE REST OF THE DAY passed with no tears or painful
memories, thank God! I walk through the door of my apartment,
change from business attire to a black tank and yoga pants.

I drop to the couch, picking up my phone and
dial the number that has been on my mind all day. I just want to
hear his voice, knowing it will only be a voice mail.

I stand from the couch that sits in my tiny
apartment and walk towards the window. This should be the happiest
time in my life, planning a wedding, finding the perfect dress, and
instead I am trying to figure out how to wake up every day without
taking that leap from the heartache that plagues my heart. Dr.
Kendrick helped me hang on to the strings of my sanity. Those
strings are about to snap though.

The good ole doc was convinced that I needed
to find my place in society. I’m convinced she’s the crazy one,
nodding her head when I spoke about my feelings like she knew
anything about real pain. I would hold my breath during the
sessions with her, sometimes I felt better as I waited to explode.
My parents insisted I see her after the accident and I continued to
until a year ago. I haven’t kept any of my most recent appointments
with her and now I think going for a visit may be needed.