We Need To Talk.

April 1, 2012
By TheAnthonyYa BRONZE, Los Angeles, California
TheAnthonyYa BRONZE, Los Angeles, California
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Jeremy, a humble and friendly teenager who wanted nothing more in life than to please those closest to him, was sitting quietly on his bed, twiddling his fingers hastily. He was exhausted, exhibiting extreme signs of emotional anxiety. This went on for several minutes, Jeremy intermedditely rubbing his head, pinching the skin between his eyes, until he finally took in a heavy breath, looked to his left, and opened his mouth slowly.

"Betsy, we need to talk."

Betsy said nothing. Jeremy waited a few seconds, and continued.

"Look, honey, I love you. You know that, right?"

Once again, Betsy remained quiet. A single, moist tear dripped down Jeremy's left eye and onto his cheek. He didn't even bother attempting to wipe it away.

"You, you know that. Right? Honey?"

Once again, nothing. Jeremy was crying.

"Look, honey, I'm no fool. I know when a relationship is ending. I can tell. And with us, it's just...I haven't felt a spark of energy in us for months now, honey. Have you?"

Betsy stayed quiet, her expression remaining quaint, unmoved by Jeremy's emotional words. Jeremy was very cleary running out of words to say; he was stammering, attempting to stay coherent amidst the face of neuturality, but he was losing the battle.

"Besty, if you want this to end, just keep sitting there, ignorning me. Just sit there, and this relationship...there won't BE a "this relationship", if that's what you want."

Several seconds ticked by. Seconds that quickly turned to minutes. Minutes that very slowly turned into an hour and 34 minutes. Jeremy took in another heavy breath, checking his watch to see how much time had passed, and looked into the mirror, hanging on the opposite wall. From the depths of the mirror, he, in amazement, realized that his eyes were stone-dry, and his face had returned to its natural color; the bitter, lifeless look in his eyes, even to this day, has never left him.

"I understand." Jeremy sat quietly, thinking to himself that, plain and simply, it was over. He stood up, slowly picked Betsy up from the bed, and took her downstairs. He was once again beginning to tear up, but not as much as earlier. His emotion had run dry.

Betsy said and did absolutely nothing. As a decorative pillow with a drawn-on smile and arms made of twigs, it was kind of impossible for Betsy to say anything at all.

Jeremy rubbed his head in pain yet again, as he had fallen off his skateboard a few months earlier, and was still recovering from the extensive brain trauma. He shook his head, attempting to get rid of his pain, but this only led him to bleed out more and more tears. He stared into the large, empty closet that he had dragged himelf and Betsy into.

"Goodbye, baby." Jeremy, after shedding one final tear, thoughtlessly dropped Betsy into the back of the closet, which was stuffed with several pillows, cushions, and inflatable rafts. With the sound of the door slamming behind him, he walked back into his room, and allowed his body to collapse onto the floor. He stayed there, lifeless, for what felt like an eternity.

Several minutes had passed, and suddenly, Jeremy didn't know what was going on. He had no recollection of the events that had just transpired, and was looking around his room, in blurry confusion. Suddenly, he turned to his right, and his eyes gazed on the sight of a navy blue body pillow, leaning against the backboard of the brown bunk-bed.

Jeremy took in a heavy breath. "Betsy, we need to talk."

Betsy said nothing.

The author's comments:
I thought of this idea in a few minutes, and decided to roll with it. I just thought it'd fun, and I hope whoever reads this feels the same. (:

Features a reference to the famous story Night by Elie Wiesel, which we recently read in class. If you haven't read that, check it out. It's incredible.

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