First and Final

March 28, 2017
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Death. Such a weird thing to think about. Death is a random being. It can never seem to make up it’s mind. One minute you're having the time of your life. The next you’re gone forever. Death is the unexpected. It’s devastating, for everyone. Family. Friends. Yourself. After a while, death is no longer devastating for someone like me.  There is no point to my life anymore.
I get up from my seat at the edge of the counter. It’s not the most comfortable, but I’m used to it. I make my way to the mirror, the same one that I grew up beside. The same one I’ve been staring at for months. As I look into the mirror the light flickers, a memory flashes into my head. I was in the exact same place, the light flickering when I had my first steps. I was happy with my parents, my life was amazing.
Until they got replaced, by newer and more technologically advanced toothbrushes. They were like gods, compared to us. They looked forever new, clean, stylish. My parents were tossed away into the trash, where they died of starvation. I was lucky as most would think. When they threw me away, I bounced off of the trash can, leaving me with a scar, running through my bristles. I still miss my parents.
The sound of the toilet brings me back to reality. I make my back to the edge. My final steps. I am re—
“Heeeeey! What are you doing up there,” a warm british accent asks. I turn my head to the right. I see a tube of toothpaste on the pure white tiles below me. She was wearing a blue dress, with streaks of white and red. Her eyes sparkled like a star in the night sky.
As she makes her way up to the top of the counter, I start to panic. Why would a girl like her want to talk to someone like me? I begin to feel self-conscious about the messy bristles on one side of my head, and shade of blue that I was. My heart was racing. I was too distracted to see that she was already right in front of me.
“What are doing up here?”—she says—“It’s awfully high for us toiletries.” “I was just about to—I mean, just enjoying the view.” “It is quite nice, isn’t it? Aubrey, Aubrey Colgate”—she announces, her hand extended—“And you?” “Augie Gum,” I squeak. “Nice to meet you, Augie. Mind if I sit? You look like you're in need of some company.” “S-s-sure.”
We sat there till it became night. We just talked, about life, likes, dislikes. “Hey, Augie.” “Yah?” “Take this.”—she said handing me a light, silvery bracelet—“If you ever think of jumping again just look at this. It can be your reminder that you have a friend in this world.” By the time I could think of a response she had fallen asleep. I wrapped her in a towel. With a yawn, I passed out.
She is the first person that I had talked to for awhile. Just one conversation between us seemed to have lightened the thought of death that I was constantly having.
Three years later, we are eating leftover french fries (chips as she calls it) and burgers found under the mini-fridge, watching women’s hockey, as we sit on the human’s bed, right next to their suitcase. A lot has changed in these three years. I still live in the bathroom, but I visited the other rooms quite a bit. I made a life for myself, all because of Aubrey.
“So, how’s the baby,” I ask, as I look at her stomach. “He’s alright,”—she chuckled—“only kicked a little bit today. Three more months then I get to see my son.” “Thought of any names yet?” “Nope, John and I decided that we will name him in the moment.”
The rest of the day was normal. We continue to watch tv, as the human showed no signs of coming back, talked about life, and ate food till we could barely move. We got up and started to walk towards the makeshift ladder that we had been using. “Same thing next week,” I asked. “Yu—” Suddenly the lights turned on. “Thunk, thunk, thunk.” We both turned around. Above us stood the human. He scooped Aubrey off the bed. My hand intertwined with hers in attempts to save her. My strength was like nothing compared to the human. He flicked me onto the floor like I was nothing. He put Aubrey into the bag, never to be seen again.
In the blink of an eye, my world was destroyed. I lost the person who kept me from walking into the toilet. She was my anchor, now I will forever drift, like a worthless piece of sand. I could no longer watch comedies, or eat french fries and burgers. I was unable to go near anything that reminded me of Aubrey. “So, tell me how are you feeling,”—the therapist asks—“how have you been after Aubrey got taken away?” “You can talk to him Augie, he’s a friend,” John says. “I-I-I think that it would be better if I wasn’t here,” I run out of the room. “I’m-I’m sorry about him”—John says—“He’s been through a lot after Aubrey left.” “I understand. Should we try this again next week?” “Yea. That would be great. See ya later Doc.”
I ran straight to the counter. I sat there for hours, rethinking my life, trying to find my self-worth in this world without Aubrey. I stand up, looking down on the toilet. I feel the silver bracelet wrapped around my arm. A tear drops from my eyes, as I rip it off and throw it into the white porcelain toilet below me. I close my eyes. My final steps.

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