Death Arrives Without Knowing | Teen Ink

Death Arrives Without Knowing

March 25, 2010
By marcela_flores BRONZE, Houston, Texas
marcela_flores BRONZE, Houston, Texas
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

The dark and freezing water was under my toes. Only 5 more steps and I’d be ready to give up my life for my family. I took one small step, then another, until I could see the water clearly with its tides going so fast you could only see shadows. That’s when I saw, right in front of me, what would happen if I didn’t die.


My family sat at the long, shiny table, eating and laughing at life. My sister’s pigtails were going from side to side. And my mother, whom never sat down to eat with us, was now sitting down. Her perfect black hair was sitting quietly in her fragile back. My brother was laughing and talking non-stop with un-chewed food still in his delicate mouth. But then the ogre and party pooper walked in, yes it was me. The atmosphere changed dramatically. It went from joy to dreariness. Their eyes held hatred. I had no idea how much my family hated me. My ruined pony tail, my long nose, and my face redder than a punched face did not look anything like my family. I was the alien from the house. I was the monster, the evil character in a book; I was the rotten strawberry from a sack of pure and perfect ones.

The vision of the future hurt too much, my heart bled and no band-aid would ever cure it. I flinched, trying to hold the tears, but they still kept flowing mercifully in my cheeks. I still loved my family even though I knew they didn’t care about me. If I died, “Oh well,” they’d think. If I hurt myself, “You’ll get better,” If anything happened to me, “You’ll survive,” To them I had no feelings, I was a thing. A thing they could throw out and never use again, like a teenage girl and its doll, which was now in the attic, rotting.
My vision blurred because of all the tears. I was left with no other option then to jump. Jump into the cold water. Jump into my death. Jump into my heaven. Living here was my personal hell; I couldn’t bear seeing my family suffer because of me, I loved them too much. So I jumped. Lightly at first, then the speed increased so much I couldn’t blink. I felt like a baby bird barely learning how to fly but kept failing since its mama wasn’t there to teach it. As I flew downwards, I kept thinking, “This is for my family, This is for my family, this is for my family….” On and on. I didn’t know how to swim, because I hate water. Then the small and delicate water splashed in my face, drowning it. Seconds passed, but they felt like centuries. That’s when I began to see light, first dimly then it started covering my entire vision. But then it started getting dimmer and dimmer. From white to yellow, yellow to gray, and gray to black.
“What’s happening?” I thought. Then I felt rough hands pulling on me upwards. I felt pressure all over my body, making me want to agree and let it take me down. Down until I was never found. Down until an animal ate me. But my wishes were not God’s wishes. The pressure kept increasing, making me want to scream, but I knew it would be impossible since I was DEAD. Or so that’s how it felt. But something awkward happened, I felt air. Air you could feel and smell. But the smell was a little off. It smelled like cologne, men cologne. It had a strong characterization that would drive girls crazy, except for me. The pressure was off, but there was something on my waist that held me secure. It held me like a mother holds their baby child. So I decided to open my eyes, to see why I felt air. Why I felt my hair moving. And why I felt a rough hand on my waist. SO I did. And what I saw was something you would never imagine. It was someone I never thought would rescue me. Someone I thought would never notice me. Someone I loved.


The author's comments:
This piece is very special to me because a long time ago that was how I felt. I felt like I didn't belong anywhere and that my family never liked being around me. But them I met the special guy who made me see the world in a different perspective. A perspective that inspired me to write this piece.

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