Autumn Leaf

--

Season's Fall

--

The world deteriorates and flickers like a candlelight. Darkness obscures vision and everything falters, the thin line between consciousness and sleep blurring as the cold pavement hits me like a wave.

I don't remember what I did to myself.

I don't think I want to, either.

(This is all my fault)


--

"So how's my baby girl?" Did you do something again?

"Okay." Maybe. Why do you want to know?

"You sure?" I'm your mother and I'm curious.

"Yeah." You don't have the fucking right to know anymore.

Silence.

I feel the calloused hand of my mother's stroking my cheek, and I flinch from the touch. I am unfamiliar to this intimacy, now. The softness, the love. Everything seems to lack sense and logical explanation. I'm confused, hurt, broken but somehow still intact–– (kill me now)

"Your pills are on the table." Her voice is soft, quiet enough for only me to hear.

"Okay."

And she leaves without a goodbye.

I failed, as a human, a woman, and a daughter.

--

The fall leaves scrunch up and freely move with the wind. My left ear is situated against the glass panel of the window, stuck and unmoving while I try to listen to the crunching and rustling outside the lawn. The silence scares me (what's happening).

"What are you doing?" My brother asks. The voice is tiny, barely above a whisper. I don't turn to face him, and instead I reply with, "listening to the wind." (waiting for my death)

He's curious, now, and lightly paddles over and scrunches up his nose and rises on tip toes to look out at the world. The sky is polluted and grey, with the clouds dispersing behind the thick fog, and yet in his eyes I see a blue reflection. His eyes narrow and he faces the other side, sticking his ear against the window and putting his little palm gently against the cold panel.

In less than a moment he turns to face me, confused.

"I couldn't hear a thing," he mumbles.

I nod, relieved that I haven't gone completely insane, and knot my fingers together to soothe my nerves. (I'm completely erratic)

"Maybe there's no breeze anymore," is my feeble reply.

His expression contorts into a grimace, and the edges of his lips pull into a thin line.

"That's not fun at all!"

"Perhaps." I nod again, slowly this time.

"I'm going back to my room."

And he stalks away, but not before grabbing his basketball and clutching it tightly to his chest. I continue to look as he walks up the stairs, tiny footsteps echoing in the hall, and once he ascends, a grim realization spreads over.

I am alone.

--

My world is turning into a frenzy. It's too chaotic.

(Where are my pills?)

(Where's my brother?)

(Mom!)

I hear the deceased, I hear my own voice and I think I might be drowning–– (oh god im going to puke)

Bile rises in my throat and I grasp at the arms of my chair, fingernails scraping against wood and body wracking like hell.

I'm dying, I think.

I am dying.


But if I were…


Why is the sensation of death so familiar like many times before??

--

Dreaming

I wake up coated in sweat. Derek sleeps soundly besides me and I turn, shaking and trying to stop myself from vomiting a storm. The pills are in my hands and I quickly --and clumsily-- spill a few onto my open palm (a bunch fall out and onto the floor). I clench and unclench my fists to feel the air against my clammy hands. My brother moves and turns to face me (i can feel it) and he parts his lips and lets out a whine.

"What the hell are you even doing?"

His voice sounds different. Thick, raspy and coarse. Is this another one of my dreams? (or is time simply too fast for me)

I shake and look up and see the framed photographs and the trophies on the shelf.

Ah, right.

Time truly does function out of my head.

"P-pills—"

"What are you—"

"Where's mom-- I need my pills–"

He regards me pitifully.

I see him stand, and he crouches low. I see him under me now, on the floor, picking up the pills. Pressed against my lips.

"Swallow."

And my mind turns blank.

--

"What are you doing?"

"Pills." I reply nonchalantly. Derek tilts his head.

"But mommy said—"

"Don't tell her." My voice cracks on the second word.

"But–––"

"Don't tell her!" My voice raises to a shout.

The pills scatter on the ground and I can't control my shaking anymore. He's scared, aiming for the door knob (he's telling he's telling rat rat rat)

I grab his wrist and cry. He struggles, and a red patch forms on his arm where I'm grabbing. He's sobbing too.

"You're hurting me!" he shouts.

I only shake my head and cry even more.

"Don't tell, don't tell!"

And everything crashes. The ceiling seems to crash like waves, so does the walls, and the world spins out of control.

"I'm sorry."

(im not)

I hug him.

"Don't end up like me," is the last I remember saying.

--

The last thing I hear are the scrunching of the leaves.

--

Don't end up like me
--

Entirely up to your interpretation. 1AM my arm is tired I'm tired so no more totally oneshot please tell me your ideas on what this oneshot is totally curious im gomen sayonara //dies

 

BUMP

 

I'm so glad you think that!!!!!!! *is bad at taking compliments* I LOVE MY READERS

I guess it's a fuck up on perspectives

The hardest thing to explain is the age thing with her lil bro

I guess I pictured her as the mentally ill child who's highly dependant on her pills, and overdoses on them and gets mad hallucinations whenever she does.

The scene where she and her 'little' brother can be real, or a dream scene from the one where her brother matures. Either way, she dies after that little episode and boom packa whack it's depressing now D: