Chapter 76: Chapter 76

Chapter 76 Practice makes perfect

I sat near my mother's grave as I mended the broken guitar in my hands. I glanced up at her headstone every now and then, and bitterness would creep up within me.

I'm horrible. I shouldn't be bitter still, my mother is dead. She's dead and there's no going back. I've just been having such a hard time letting my anger, hate, and bitterness towards my mom go recently.

Memories burn deep, and they hurt. They hurt me, and for that, I want justice. But who am I to want justice after someone's child is in the ground because of me?

Often times, it feels like I'm drowning. So much guilt, shame, and anger I have bottled up over the years that it takes very little to push me over the edge. My emotions are so overwhelming, and paired with the flashbacks from my past, it's like a storm.

A storm that threatens to blow me over.

One can only deal with so much crap until eventually, they break down. They break down and lose themselves to the insanity life throws at them.

I just feel heavy with the weights that have been placed upon my back over the years. It's overwhelming, and it's hard to sleep at night with this much pain in my chest. I wish I could be free of all my pain and hardships.

But there's nobody that will be willing to listen to my cries and hear my pain. There's nobody I can share my problems with and release my bottled up emotions to.

Then again, would I really want to tell people?

My past is dark. Would I really want to share that with people?

I don't know.....I just don't know.

I guess for now, I'll just have to hang on and make the best of it. It won't be easy, but by now, I'm used to life not being easy. What's one more little problem going to do to me?

I'm fine. I'm fine! I think to myself as I stand up and dust myself off. My guitar is almost fixed, and though it looks wounded and scarred, I'm happy with the way it is turning out. It's still beautiful, even with the scars it holds.

I sling the guitar over my shoulder, whistling a tune as I walk out of the graveyard. I was excited to show Dagger the progress I've made on my guitar, and I think he'll be pleased with it, too.

As I'm exiting the graveyard, I frown when I see little teddy bears and blue balloons wrapped around a headstone. The grave is decked out in children's toys and flowers, and my heart aches when I think of a child that has lost their life way too young.

I read the engraved letters. Charlie Maxwell.

"Charlie Maxwell." I whisper aloud, the name rolling off my tongue in familiar waves.

I turn away abruptly, my clenched fists quaking at my sides when I realize who this little boy is. Who this little child is. And what exactly I have done.

Deep breaths, you didn't mean to. It was an accident. You couldn't have known you were going to kill someone in the process. R-remember what they taught you at the asylum, just breathe and all your nightmares will d-disappear.

Air fills my lungs and my body shakes when I remember today is the fifth year anniversary of this little boy's death. Today was the exact date five years ago that this child took his last breath, and it was all because of me.

Damn it, don't lose yourself. Not here. Not now.....

But my walls of steel that have been built up over the years are crumbling down. The mental band-aids that the asylum had treated me with are peeling away, revealing scarred, eternal wounds that I have sustained.

My knees shake and I stumble forwards, my hands grasping the little headstone that belongs to the boy I've killed.

I remember that night when I tried so desperately to fix my sins and pull him out of the burning, shattered vehicle that was cutting his skin.

I sit on my knees, feeling weak as I hang my head in shame. My hair shields my vision and my hands find the smooth edge of the headstone. I run my fingers through my hair out of nervous habit.

"I'm sorry, so so sorry, little one." I whisper sadly.

I don't think I've ever hated myself more than that moment. To see the effects my mistake has had on others just devastated me. Judging by the way his grave is decorated, I just know his mom comes here often and cries over him.

He had a mother who cared for him and loved him. Why couldn't the roles by reversed? Why couldn't I have died in that crash?

The one person who was deserving to live life to the fullest died.

I should have been the one, I'm the one who made the mistake and I'm the one who should have been punished by death, not him. Not someone so young with his entire life ahead of him.

It just isn't fair.

It's just not fair at all.

My tears wet his grave. One by one they fall, and I clench the grass beneath me in anguish. God, I feel so alone. I feel so alone in this world, this fight. But I deserve this. I took a child from his mother. I deserve to feel her pain and so much more.

I dry my eyes and stand up.

"Goodbye, little one." I don't know what else to say. If saying sorry could bring him back, I would apologize until my dying breath.

I kick pebbles and keep my head down as I walk the streets alone. My hands are shoved into my pockets and I hide my eyes from the world.

My shift at work was soon, and I just don't know if I feel up to singing tonight. I was in one of my moods again. I'm exhausted, emotionally drained, and depressed.

Every now and then I'm hit with a sudden wave of depression and self hate, it's random and unpredictable.

And when it happens, it's so severe that I battle over self harm and suicide. I remind myself to hold on, that this pain is only temporary and will be gone soon.

But I'm just so tired of this emotional cycle. I just wish.....I wish I could have a normal life. I hope my wishes don't sound selfish, because I certainly don't mean for them to be selfish.

I just feel like it would be unfair if I lived a normal life while the mother that has been effected by my actions will suffer for the rest of her life. How could I ever live normally when she was out there, crying over her dead family members?

It just doesn't seem fair for me to move on when I've committed the crime.

My shoulders heave with each breath and I'm not looking where I am going. I don't see the people I'm passing by, nor do I care.

I have to get to work.

But a voice halts me in my tracks.

"You look like hell."

Turning around, I see Colton, leaning up against one of the street lamps with a cigarette in his mouth.

"Not now, Colton." I say, not looking at him in the face. I don't want him to see my red, puffy eyes from crying. But I'm pretty sure my scratchy, after-cry voice has just given it away.

I continue to walk down the street. I don't want to deal with his cold personality right now, that's the last thing I need.

But Colton, for whatever reason, isn't having it. He stops me once again, and this time, he's blocking my path.

"Leave me alone, please," I beg, "And why are you following me all the damn time? It's creepy. Just leave me alone right now."

He doesn't answer, instead he stands there, analyzing me. I can feel his gaze on me and it's uncomfortable.

"You're crying." He states.

"I'm not." Not anymore, at least.

He scoffs and puts the cigarette back between his lips. He's no longer looking at me, but down the streets. "Why are you crying?"

"Drop it, Colton. Just let me pass, please. I need to get to work." I tell him.

"But-"

"How does it feel to be on the receiving end? You won't tell me anything about yourself so why do you expect me to?" I ask him, becoming fed up. Hell, I am fed up. Fed up with just about everything, really.

He doesn't say anything, and I brush right past him.

And this time, he lets me go.

* * *

Dagger smiles at me as I am about to sing. I know he senses something is off about me, but I choose to ignore it. I don't care what people think.

With a shaky voice, I introduce myself and the song I am to to sing to the crowd. I choose songs that I can relate to and that makes me and others think. I choose songs that I can connect to emotionally. I think, perhaps, that was my mistake tonight, because what I didn't realize was that this song would be my downfall on stage.

I start to sing.

How do you love when your heart is broken?

How do you speak when you feel outspoken?

I can forgive and be forgiven.

By learning to heal with a heart wide open.

I'll be OK.

Halfway through the song, I start to feel shaky. Panic is creeping up on me but I try my best to stay cool and composed. But it's hard to do so with so many eyes watching me. Colton is watching me in the back again.

His eyes are so haunting.

The song itself, seems to be speaking to me and I struggle to reign it in. Halfway through the song, I start losing myself to my anxiety, panic, and overwhelming emotions that flood me as I sing this song.

The lovely face of lives we chase.

Is but dust for wind to take.

When all is gone the only loss.

To not have loved at every cost.

When you can say and I can say.

W-we loved with every step we take...

I'll be OK.

H-how do you love wh-when your heart is b-broken?

At this point, my voice is breaking, and tears are streaming down my face. I'm too overwhelmed with life and my own memories in problems that I'm drowning.

I'm drowning, and this time, the freedom of singing can't even help me.

Life is like being lost at sea. Everywhere you look, there's water. And in the water all around you are hidden dangers. Sharks lurk below you and other dangerous creatures swim about, looking for their next meal.

You may feel like you're drowning.

And that may be true.

You're surrounded by endless oceans and hope has long faded away.

And sometimes, all you need is someone to throw you a life raft. Sometimes, all you need is a little help. If not a someone, then something to drag you out of the water. Perhaps, you think you can get out on your own.

But sometimes, trying to solve problems on your own just causes your own demise.

And sometimes, you're too far out in the ocean for anyone to find you.

And at that point, nobody can save you.

That's exactly how I feel.

And it's the worst, darkest feeling imaginable.

Everything is spinning around me and and people's concerned faces blur together. Dagger looks worried and I don't even realize that I have stopped singing until the sound of my labored breathing echos in my ears.

"I-I'm sorry everybody. I-I can't. I can't...." I mutter as tears stream down my face. I feel so embarrassed that I quickly turn, not wanting to see everyone's expressions as I dash off of stage.

Dagger calls after me, but I don't stop. I can't. Not right now, at least.

Damn it! I hate being an emotional wreck! What is wrong with? I yell at myself as I run out of the club. Dagger will probably fire for me this and I don't have the heart to face him right now.

I just want to curl up somewhere safe and never see the light of day ever again. How can I even face anyone after this?

I run down the streets, my guitar strapped to my back. Finding the nearest, narrow alley, I hide away and tuck myself away in the darkness. I pull my knees to my chest, fighting away the coldness that seeps into my body.

Burying my head into my knees, I silently cry. I'm not sure exactly why I'm crying. Maybe the fear, the anger, the shame, the bitterness, the memories, the utter, painful loneliness....maybe I'm finally breaking.

I've held it together for so long but now? Now it's all bubbling to the surface. I just need a little break. A little time. I just need to learn to adapt.

Adapt. Adapt. Adapt.

I've always adapted to my situations before, and this time it's no different. I will find a way to adapt, it's just only a matter of time, right?

Just...you'll find a way. I don't know how, but I will. I reassure myself.

"Crying again." A voice tsks out of nowhere, but I immediately know who it is. His voice is, as usual, cold, with no hint of emotion in it.

"No." I lie.

Colton lets out a rumbling chuckle. "Back at it with lying." He says nonchalantly.

"Go away. Can't you leave a girl to cry in peace?" I beg through my breaking voice. I sound pathetic and I cringe at my own voice.

"I suppose I could, but where's the fun in that?" Colton asks, his voice deep and low. Before I know it, he even sits down across from me on the pavement.

He looks rather uncomfortable, however.

"Why are you suddenly talking to me? What changed? I-if I recall correctly, last week you told me to 'get out of your face' and to 'never talk to you again.'"

He blinks a few times as if to be in deep thought. "Your tactic won't work. We're not talking about me, but about you, right now, damn it." He says.

"Why? I-I thought you were selfish-"

"For fuck's sake, I'm trying to be....be.....What's the word? Dammit, I don't even know the word." Colton admits, rolling his eyes and shrugging.

I raise an eyebrow. "Nice?" You're trying to be nice?"

He visibly cringes, as if the thought disgusts him, and his eyebrows scrunch together. "Is that how you say it?"

I nod.

"You're not very good at being nice." I tell him truthfully.

"Yeah, no shit. But practice makes perfect, so stop fucking ridiculing me because I'm trying to practice." Colton says, smirking.

I smile.

And then I laugh.

I would have expected Colton to be the last person on earth to make me laugh.

Colton smiled, too.

And when he smiled, a spark of joy danced in his eyes, and that joy made Colton feel happy.

For that was the first time Colton had ever experienced a positive emotion.