I Remember That It Hurt, Looking At Her Hurt.

• Isabella Shonk, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2014

I was young. Unaware of the pain and hurt that surrounded me. My mother passed away when I was seven years old. People had expected me to mourn and to cry, but I did not cry. Nor did I mourn.
I was seven years old and was jealous of my mother passing before I did. I never told anyone about my jealousy. Who would be jealous of death taking a life before he took mine? Certainly not anyone who was normal.
At ten years old, on the 14th of January 1999, I decided I wanted to die. So I tried, but I was found by my sister in the bath. Of course I was admitted to hospital. At ten years old they asked me to go into counselling. I did not.
At thirteen years old, again on the 14th of January 2002, I sat outside my house wearing a singlet and shorts. I had lay down in the snow and made a small snow angel whilst the wind harshly pulled at my skin. My sister found me the next morning. I was once again admitted to hospital.
At sixteen years old I was once again found in the bathtub in my house, on the 14th of January 2005. This time my sister took me out of the bath and cleaned me up. She did not call the hospital. She did not call anyone. She looked at me.
I remember that it hurt, looking at her hurt.

--

I am now seventeen years old. It is the 13th of January 2006; the day before my mother’s anniversary of death.
My sister looks at me with empty eyes. She has caught the pattern. I hope that tomorrow, she leaves me to fall into death’s arms.
His arms which seem so inviting.
We sit together in front of the television.
The screen is black but we both stare at it, as if our thoughts are on the television.
She looks at me again. “Tomorrow there will be no snow storms, and the bath tub has been removed because of pluming problems.”
I couldn’t really come up with a response to that.
I just sat there with her and held her hand as we sat there together.
I remember that it hurt, looking at her hurt

--

Then it was the 14th of January 2006. I woke up as I did every day. As straight as a stick, no dreams, nothing.
I had looked at the small alarm clock beside me. It was seven thirty six in the morning. Today was a Saturday; I wanted it was a school day. My sister was at home too. I had really wish she wasn’t.
We sat in silence together at breakfast. As usual.
I could see her look at me from across the table; her eyes were wondering that day, they weren’t as dull as they were every other day. I was glad for that.
I had always been good at reading faces. Her face was curious, wondering, but something felt off. Her eyes had a tint of sadness. I was taken aback. I wasn’t used to that at all.
We looked at each other for a while, and I had come to the conclusion that she would once again try to stop me today. I was always hoping that she would never stop me, but she always did.
But it seems, ever since my last attempt, I had been dreading that day. It was as though I wanted her to stop me. It was an unusual feeling, but I made a point to ignore it.
She has still been looking at me.
I remember that it hurt, looking at her hurt
--
Nine thirty two am. I was still as the dining table while my sister cleans up. I could see her from my chair, she was continually looking to me, and away again. It was as if she was waiting for something.
We were both standing in silence in our spots. Not looking at anything in particular, but just thinking.
Until he came in. My father. Drunk as usual. My sister’s eyes wondered ever so slowly to look at him. He was looking at us. I had expected him to walk away, as he usually does but he didn’t.
He looked at her and walked into the kitchen, with me watching his every move. I saw her cower in terror as he stood over her.
What happened next I was not expecting, but she was. I could not explain the anger I felt when he did that to her. It was as if I had been told I would never die.
He was grinning as he continued. I saw her close her eyes and ask him to stop.
He didn’t.
I remember that it hurt, looking at her hurt
-
It was the 14th of January 2006, three twelve pm.
I was outside. It was not snowing that day. I felt a little bit disappointed at that.
My road was busy today, cars running up and down the street.
I sometimes looked at the cars and wondered. Were the people running from something, or to something?
Most of the people in the cars looking oblivious. Just like everyone does.
It seems as though everyone is oblivious. Completely and utterly oblivious.
The cars were still running.
I had started to make my way up towards them.
The people were still oblivious.
I knew that this time, if it worked, it would be instant.
The cars were running faster.
I heard a door open and close behind me. I heard yelling.
The people were still oblivious. Completely oblivious.
Cassie was coming.
I was next to the running cars, staring.
One more step.
The people were staring now, completely oblivious.
One more step.
I turned around.
Cassie wasn’t running, or yelling.
She was watching.
I remember that it hurt, looking at her hurt.
--
Death is something beautiful. It is nothing yet something.
I always used to wonder about Death. About rolling into his arms and finally feeling free.
I was so close, I could see him, looking at me.
I knew it was him, even though he looked like any other person. It was him.
He was on the other side of the road, watching, waiting.
I remember recoiling, suddenly afraid of him.
I was scared. Scared of what I had hoped for most in my life.
I staggered back; I found it hard to breath.
I had fallen to my hands and knees, it hurt. My hand was on my chest. I could feel arms around me, although I wasn’t sure whose they were.
I looked up, he was closer. He was right in front me.
He bent down to my eye level in one swift movement.
We stared at each other for what felt like forever. He smiled and put his hands over my eyes.
The last thing I saw was Cassie.
I remember that it hurt, looking at her hurt.
--
Darkness. That is what I saw first. Pure and utter darkness.
I was turning around, looking for any source of light, anywhere.
But there was only darkness.
“Arthur” I could hear her. It was the only voice I wanted to hear at that moment.
I felt a hand on my cheek, I could see nothing in front of me.
I reached out, hoping to find something, anything.
I did.
I grabbed it, and pulled it close.
It was her. I was happy.
I was laughing, crying.
She was silent. Her arms wrapped around me.
My mother, I was finally with her.
She was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear her, I yelled out to her but no words left my lips.
All of a sudden, there was light. Everywhere, and there was white all around.
I could see her, she was looking at me now, her hands on my shoulders.
She was smiling.
“Arthur” she was crying “you must leave, look after Cassie, she needs you. Leave Arthur”
She started walking away, I tried calling out but once again, no words left my lips.
I tried running but my feet were un-moving.
She looked back one more time.
I remember that it hurt, looking at her hurt.
--