I'm Dying, Agnes.

October 18, 2011
By nicxle SILVER, Chicago, Illinois
nicxle SILVER, Chicago, Illinois
6 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
Hon'ne. The contrast between a person's true feelings and desires, often kept to themselves in secrecy.

To keep it simple, have faith.

“I can’t do this anymore!”

I had screamed to my parents as we gathered for dinner. “Daddy’s job had moved” again and I had to leave everything just when we had gotten settled in. She said it’s what’s best for us all, but I don’t care.

“You can’t control me. I’m not leaving!” I yelled loud and hard, and ran through the patio doors. I knew it wasn’t because of Daddy’s job we were moving. It was because of me, my issues, my anger, my depression. I didn’t cause Agnes to die. It’s not my fault. But apparently it made a deep cut in me and turned me different according to mother and the therapist. I had over heard them talking a few weeks ago, after Agnes’s sudden death, about me. They thought I needed help, serious help. I had gone crazy after Agnes was murdered. They said I couldn’t be fixed unless I would be removed from it all, restart, find other friends. But no way was I leaving. Agnes loved this place, and I’m not leaving her.

“They want me to leave. They want me to forget you!” I yelled to the rustling trees, the whipping wind, and the cries of the wild wolves far off the valley. “I’m not going, Agnes, believe me. I can’t abandon you. Friends stick together always.” I said a little bit softer. But then a bolt of thunder crackled in the sky and then came the rain. Dark clouds crowded around me, swallowing my tears of a emotion I’ve never experienced before. My sobs wet my cheeks faster than the rain, my body shook, and I collapsed to the ground grabbing my hair in clumps on my head. My vision so blurred I could hardly notice there were trees not 10 feet away from me. “Why is this happening?” I whispered, but I couldn’t hear myself speak. The wind rattled louder and tree branches fell with thuds. The woods seemed to be swallowing me, and the wind pushed me around and around. “Help!” I heard myself escape those words. “Someone please help me..” I whispered as I lay on the leave-covered dirt. I am alone, all alone. Mother and Daddy gave up on me. I was too difficult for them, and now I am alone. “Curse you, Agnes! Curse you for making me this way! I am not under your spell anymore!” I scream until I feel a sickly taste of blood in my throat. I cry and cry, all alone in the storm of the clearing in the woods. I cry myself quiet, and I lay there frozen in my own depression, while I hear Mother’s distant voice calling my name. I want to call out to her, and I try, but I can not find my voice. I frantically tap the ground as if she will hear me, but it isn’t loud enough. I push myself up off the ground, cheeks swollen and eyes burning, I stumble across the clearing. I look frantically for Mother. Roots trip me, but I just push everything aside; I need to find her. I start breathing heavy as the wind picks up, and her voice is almost impossible to hear. I find my voice and yell, “Motherrrr” I croak with a loud cough. I gasp suddenly, and kneel to the ground hacking and coughing. I roll on my side when my knees give out, and stumble onto the bed of rocks. The last thing I see is a girl in a pure, white nightgown, staring down at me. It’s Agnes.

“They don’t find you,” Her voice colder than I remember a couple months ago. “No one can hear you out here."

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