Ticket to Heaven | Teen Ink

Ticket to Heaven

March 1, 2012
By golfgirl99 GOLD, San Ramon, California
golfgirl99 GOLD, San Ramon, California
12 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Today was the day. The day I had so carefully planned over the last two years. The day of my death.

The last few years had been a living hell. After the tragic car accident killed my mom, I vowed to be with her again someday. I vowed to make things right.

This day was supposed to carry through today of last year. On the way home from the pharmacist’s, however, with my ticket to Mom in hand, Nate just had to be out on his daily run and bump paths with me. Sweet, sweet Nate. Though he doesn’t know it, he is the only reason I’m still here. He is the only thing worth living for, but he is not enough. He cannot take away the pain that is always throbbing inside of me. He cannot remove my haunted memories. He cannot change the past and the last time I saw my mother. He cannot make me forget my memory of her racing away in our beat-down Subaru after the last words she said to me. It was our worst fight yet. “I wish you weren’t my daughter.” The last words she ever said.

February 9. The date of my mother’s funeral two years back. The date I will escape the pain that has imprisoned me. The day that no one will stop me, not even sweet Nate.

I am sitting on the dark wooden floor of my bathroom, back to the door, pills in hand. I close my eyes as my last day flashes through my mind.

This morning I opened the brown cabinet in my bathroom. I stared at the bottle of pills that would take me to Mom.
After pulling on my jeans, I peered into the kitchen. Dad was sitting at the table, coffee by his side. His hands covered his face. I would make my mother’s funeral anniversary as easy as possible for him. He would not see me today.

In a way, I had been dead for a while anyway. I hadn’t had any life inside of me since my mother died. I had been an empty shell.

I spent the day in the woods next to the lake. I chose that spot to relive all my memories. First, I thought of the happy times. Me, dancing among the flowers in the field. I almost felt Mom’s silky brown hair brushing softly against my face again, sun shining down on us. I thought of Mom singing me to sleep and reading me stories by the candlelight while it flickered across her face. I cried silently when I remembered the happy little family we once were. Just me, Mom, and Dad. All together we had the world.

The day of the funeral flashed across my mind. The dark, rainy day. Everyone gathering around Mom’s casket, sobbing. Umbrellas poking me everywhere, sharp sharp sharp.

My eyes flew open. The pain was deep within me. I had to get it out, I had to escape. Someone was screaming. It was ear-splitting. I wished the person would stop. I started running, running, running away. Only when I crashed blindly into a tree and fell to the ground, sobbing loudly, did I realize it had been me.

I closed my eyes and forced the pills down my throat, all alone in my bathroom.

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