A Life Through My Looking Glass
Author's note: This was also a piece for an English class. We had to write about social issues (mine was... Show full author's note »
Chapter Four: DelilahTwo Months Later
Chapter Four: Delilah
It’s been two months and nothing has changed, I’ve talked to my parents, teachers, friends, everyone! Nobody knows what to do. I have told them just what they need to know. I have not let on about how truly awful this is getting. No one is talking to me but there isn’t a single person who isn’t talking about me. My life is terrible and I just don’t care anymore. I have done everything that I could. It’s useless. I surrender life. I’m going to kill myself. Nothing and nobody will stop me.
Ssssss..... I had to breath through my teeth to prepare myself for the pain that I was ultimately about to feel. I looked back at my short meaningless life, thinking about all of the things that I’ve never accomplished, never done; all of the things that I would have done but I was too scared to try them. The kind of person I was like until all of this torn brutally away from me. I looked in the mirror across from me, I saw a sad, pathetic ghost of a person. My life was yanked out of my desperate hands and that left me drowning. I was looking for something to hold onto, something that could make all of this better. I needed a constant, a happy place, my savior? Some way out of my own personal little hell. I just wasn’t strong enough; I just can’t find the will. Everything I cared about...gone. My life is crumbling around me, what else is there to live for; everyone was clearly better off this way, even me.
All of a sudden my world went black. I felt nothing, saw nothing, cared about nothing, heard nothing, and smelled nothing. It was easier than I’d thought. Almost like falling asleep. Falling into a silky black sheet of bliss. I’d taken care of everything, left a will, and a suicide letter. Now I’m merely just a memory.
I stood at a lectern Wearing an elegant black dress. I looked out into the mass of people. I saw Delilah’s mother and father and her little sister Rosemary. She looked just like her sister did when she was little.
Rosemary was just seven and all that she understood was that her sister was dead. She used to have such a gleam of happiness in her eyes. That was gone now I had killed it. I had killed her sister. I saw Vladimir, Brittany, my parents; I looked back at Delilah’s family. Then I looked over to the open casket. I saw my bestfriend laying there cold and dead. I owed them all this much.
I tapped the microphone twice gently just to make sure that it was working. I cleared my thought and begun talking.
“I came here with a eulogy written for my best friend. But, thinking of it now, it barely begins to describe what I really need to say. Delilah was the most.... well I can’t describe It.” it was then that I started crying. “Delilah didn’t deserve to die, not even close. I was the one who said all of those terrible and untrue things about her. I started this all, and I am responsible for her death.” I looked out at the crowd, there were so many disappointed and hurt fasces. Not a dry eye out there. “I know,” I pushed on “That i’ll never, ever is able to make up for this. But I’m so sorry.” I couldn't handle this anymore, I stumbled back from the lectern feeling the eyes of all of the people in the church boring into my head, what was left of my soul was being eaten alive. Suddenly I regained feeling in my body and my ears stopped sounding so muffled. All of a sudden everything was in sharp focus, it was too much, my legs had a mind of their own and before I knew it I was out the back door in hysterics.
I’ll never be able to forgive myself. But I know that Delilah was such a good person to the core that she would really want me to be happy, no matter what and she wouldn’t want me to blame myself. But how could I do that? I’m going to try my best to keep her memory alive, and to be the person that she thought of me as. Seeing her sister today reminded me of just where we started. How far we’d come.
I found out later that year that Vladimir was planning on giving her a promise ring the week that Delilah killed herself. He loved her so much, I wasn’t even aware. I had hurt him so much by hurting Delilah. And to think that I was so jealous of their relationship I ended it by letting Delilah kill herself. I found out that Delilah’s parents were planning on giving her the car that they had bought for her for her 16th birthday that week. I was the reason that all of this went to waste. Delilah was set up for an extremely happy life, but I was just so terrible that I couldn’t let her have it.
I said that I would get my revenge even if it killed me. But I never thought for one minute that it might kill Delilah. I said that she was so dead to me, and I made that my own reality. I don’t know that Delilah really had developed an eating disorder because of the things that I was saying, I thought I made that up; and I wish that I had. And little did I know that when I said I would wait and figure out how far I could go with this, and that I would cross that bridge when I got to it; that that bridge was going to be a toll bridge. And the price was Delilah’s life.