It's been two weeks since I woke up from my coma. I rely heavily on sedation and medicine to make me feel numb. To help me forget the nightmare I am living. Today is the day that we have a memorial for Luke. Since I was in a coma for Miles and Ady's funerals, this is the first time I will be admitting that they are gone.
I stare in the hospital bathroom's mirror. I'm wearing a plain black dress. My wound on my head is almost completely healed, but it will leave a scar to remind me that no matter how much medication I take, I can't escape this. I leave the bathroom and join my parents in heading to the nurses' station for my parents to finish signing the discharge papers. I get to go home today after the memorial.
The car ride was silent and the sorrow in the air made it hard to breathe. We finally reach the church and take our seat on the pew. There won't be a need for a graveside service since they never found Luke's body.
The service starts with music before a preacher gets up to speak. I'm not listening to anything he says. I'm too busy starting at the picture of Luke in the front. He's smiling which makes his dimple pop out. I'll never get to see that smile again. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks and I find it hard to breathe. I know about to have a panic attack. I've had several since I woke up.
My breathing is shallow and my hands start to shake. My parents quickly help me out of the pew, but my knees give out. My father picks me up and carries me out bridal style while I sob into his chest. The car ride home is full of my sniffles and my parents concerned glances. I close my eyes and let the sleep come. This time I don't have any nightmares. I don't even dream at all. My sleep is full of darkness.
I wake up and see that I'm tucked into my bed. My dad must have carried me up here when we got back. I look to my nightstand and see pictures. Pictures of Luke and I. Pictures of us with Ady and Miles. Pictures of just Ady and me. Pictures of all the reasons I had to live. I feel my body go numb at the thought of them gone. I don't want to be here. I didn't want to wake up. I wish I died with them.
My legs feel like they are filled with led as I make my way to the kitchen. It's past midnight so I know I won't run into anyone. I grab the first knife I come to and without hesitation slice my arm vertically from the inside of my elbow to my wrist. I watch as my blood starts pouring out. I feel relieved to know it's almost over, but then I feel guilt. I'm taking away my parents' last child. It's too late now though as I feel my whole body go cold. I feel myself fall to the floor as my vision goes black. I hear screams from my mother before I fall into the comforting darkness.
I wake up to the beeping of machines again. I look down at my bandaged arm and the memories of the early morning come flooding in. I see my mom walk to the edge of the bed before grabbing my hand. I'm too ashamed to look into her eyes.
"Emilia, look at me."
I look up at her. Her eyes are swimming with tears and I feel terrible for doing this to her.
"Don't you ever do that again. If you can't promise yourself to move on and live, then I want you to promise that you'll do that for me. Promise me that you won't ever try to take your life again because I need you. You can't leave me too."
She is sobbing by this point so I squeeze her hand and muster all the strength I have.
"I promise, mom."
I'll do this for her.