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I now sat here, alone. Alone in a room so quiet that all you could hear was the sound of the wind coming out of one white fan in my square place of a room. Nothing but the cold breeze whipping my face and drying the tears streaming down my face, but only soon would more just appear.
Why?
Why have you been taken away from me? Why have this one prayer been ignored upon many others, and let me down? Why have you taken my true best friend?
My hands clutched together in fists, making my knuckles turn as white as my face. My straight brunette hair streaming down my face, covering my empty face and red eyes from the many tears.
A new sound soon joined in with the humming of the fan in the room. Plip plop, plip plop. Tears started to stain the pages in front of me.
Why God? Why him? Why did you have to take him away from me now? I want to hate you. I want to hate you so bad and shun your name, but I wont. I have learned from the many teaching in Bible school that I shall love you forever, and death is not your fault.
I let out a grimace as I used my red hands to wipe away the corners of my eyes. “Dang it! Not now!” I swore in distaste as I wiped at them consciously, trying to wipe away the disgrace of my weakness.
Soon giving up on the theory, I threw my book on my bed, not really giving a care if the book fell the wrong way, if I lost my page, or if the cover just ripped.
For now, I just didn’t care.
My legs swung over the edge, planting them on the tan colored carpet that fuzzed in between my bare toes. I took only a couple of steps till I finally reached my bedroom mirror, trying to look at the miserable girl in front of me.
If only I could see her first.
Eyes a blur from the tears I tried to hold in so long, I took both of my hands and wiped at them fast. Only after a couple of rubs I then looked back, vision cleared.
I couldn’t help but scowl at the sight. The sight of the sad, broken down fourteen year old girl in front of me. Hair only half wet, or half dry that she took only at least half an hour or forty-five minutes ago. Dressed in the same old, gray T-shirt pajama top and black comfy P.J. bottoms as in every night. But the face, the face was just the very thing that made me scowl. Her eyes all red and puffy at the many times of rubbing, cheeks all stained from the few tears that escaped her grasp. And the quivering scowl that she gave right back at me.
Pathetic.
When I couldn’t take it any more, I looked away, not wanting to see another ounce of it. I then reached for the box of tissues, taking out a couple to blow my nose and wipe my eyes. Smashed up in a ball, I scored it in the wastebasket of no return.
My body soon collapsed on the floor at the edge of my bed, which I usually do when I am in a bad mood, or either that I wanted to rummage through my pictures.
And that is what I planned to do.
I went to my bottom left drawer as I took out a orange photo album that I got from one of my closest friends. Flipping it open, I started to rummage through the pages till I find what I was looking for.
I passed through years of my past, my “Happy” Self. One I recognized was the whole BIG family photo when I was around…nine of ten, maybe younger. Another was the time at Kings Island, Ohio with my uncle, cousin, half sisters, parents and brother. Man I looked happy.
I continued to flip through a couple of more till I reached the last day of school in 7th grade photos. I suppressed a small smile, seeing how happy and joyous ma and my bit group of friends were. Man, were we some goof balls. But they are all memories now, one that we wouldn’t be able to remake since some now hate each other.
With a sigh of that memory I skipped them, finally reaching what I was looking for. Yes, there he is. There is that little devil that I have known for 7-8 years. There is that black and gray tiger fur ball in that little girls warming arms, my arms. That was the day we first brought him home, the first he joined our family.
A droplet fell on the photo in front of me, landing on the happy girls face. A tear. I wiped my face with a sniff, continuing on in my memories.
There he was again. But this time that same girl was asleep. Asleep in her own bed as the now fur ball, who was not longer small anymore, lying beside the snoozing girl in her Minnie mouse bed.
I coughed out a small tearful laugh as I remember those times when my mother told me about how he would sleep beside my head like a guardian angel without me knowing. Two new drops of tears fell on the photo, but this time, both landed on him, and not on the sleeping girl. I turned the page, wanting to go to the next one.
This was new; the little girl was not in this one. This photo showed the same fur ball, but sitting up, watching the cage of the hamster I used to own, Anica. He always loved to spy on that hamster. I remember the day he almost ate one of them, and my mother had to chase him half way around the house to get the poor hamster out of his mouth. Or the time he ran away and we had no idea where he was. We were divested. But my mother had the clever idea of putting the cage up against an open window, and see if that would work. I remember the next morning that he was back home. My mother told me that in the morning she found him perched up at the window, watching the hamster. I have been grateful to that hamster ever since.
A smile crossed my face at another funny memory of my best friend. No tear fell down this time, but I turned another page.
The next photo showed of the fur ball sleeping under the Christmas tree. I remembered EVERY year, when we got out tree up and ready, he would just go tight under, chew on the bristle a bit but then just sleep under it using the gifts as pillows. My parents would just get mad sometimes and try to get him out from under it. They didn’t really like him doing that.
Pages flipped till I reached the last photo of him. It showed that same happy girl. But just a bit older, in a new home, and the cat just an itsy bit bigger. Her arms were around him with a big grin as he rubbed his head up against her. A few bags were at the right of them, so I guessed that we just came home from a trip and he missed us.
I slammed the photo album shut and stored it back into it’s original spot. Not taking it anymore I jumped onto my bed and just buried my face in the pillows, finally letting the tears stream down my face.
“Why you have to go Boots? Why?” I cried out, voice cracking a bit from the sobs. I just couldn’t believe it, my best friend was gone, he was gone and not coming back. I pushed the book onto the floor, turning off the lights and just cuddling up in my pillows and blankets, sobbing into them and making them wet.
And just before I finally found peace and about to sleep, I managed to sob out the words, “I love you,” And slip into darkness.