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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/972528-Shot-in-the-Chest
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Death · #972528
A girl struggles to live after everything she loves is taken away. Not finished.
Shot in the chest. That’s how it feels when everything has been ripped away from you. When everything disappears suddenly, and you don’t know what to do, or where to go, you feel as if someone’s standing on your chest, awaiting your last weak breath. You’ll do anything to at least keep your head above water. But your efforts prove fruitless, and you become angrier with each passing minute.

“It’s all the same,” she said with an indifferent shrug. I knew what she meant.
“It’s not all the same, but what can you do?” I looked down at the keyboard, then back up to her. “You want to get out of here?”
She shrugged again and replied, “It doesn’t matter. We’ll do the same thing out there as we would in here.”
I nodded. “I think it might rain soon.”
“What’s there to do?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps we can get Sean to get us some vodka. I’ve got a few dollars.”
“Let me call him.” She got up from her seat, and made her way to the dining room, where the phone was. A few minutes later, she rejoined me, and told me that he’d be here in a few minutes with two bottles of Vlad. I nodded again. I wasn’t sure why, but I wasn’t as excited about it as I would have been normally. Anger seemed to be getting the best of me. Whatever the reason, I knew I was going to get shit faced.
“We’ll have to go in the woods to do this.”
“That’s fine. Bring the guitar, and I’ll bring the bongos. We can make drunken music.”
“Good plan!” She smiled and went to get the instruments from her bedroom. “I love making drunken music with you,” she said as she came back into the living room, handing me the bongos.
“As do I.” I smiled weakly, then fell silent.
“Hey,” she started, “don’t be sad. We’re getting drunk. It’s all gravy.”
“I’m not sad, I’m angry.”
“So you’ll get drunk, and punch a few trees. You’ll feel better.”
“I like to punch trees, especially if they punch back.”
“Oh, they will. Trust me.”
“I always do.”
Just then, Sean walked in the door with a paper bag in his hand. He handed it to Lethia and threw me a pack of cigarettes. “I figured you might need them,” he said with a slight smile.
“Thanks, Sean. You’re the best best friend’s brother that I’ve ever had.”
“Hey, I’ve always got your back…Now let me look at your ass.”
“How about…no.”
“Right-o,” Lethia said rolling her eyes. “Let’s go Pix.” She waved toward the back door. I handed Sean the money, and thanked him again.
I followed Lethia diligently to the spot where she was sure no one would find us. When we reached the tiny clearing, she sat down on the dirt, and handed me a bottle, and took one for herself.
“It would be nice to be on a boat right now,” she said.
“A boat? Why a boat?” I took a rather large swig of my vodka. It burned my chest, and screwed up my face. I loved it.
“Boats are nice. I’m not really sure why. When do you think it will rain?” She strummed the strings of the guitar once, and opened her bottle.
I glanced at the sky. It was a nice shade of dark grey, and the green of the leaves contrast against it nicely. “Soon,” I replied simply.
“Good.”
There was silence for a few minutes. I lit up a cigarette from my already open pack, and offered her one. She took it along with another drink. These were the moments I enjoyed the most. I pondered on the fact that she was the best friend I had ever had. A smile made its way to my lips. “What? Do I have a booger?” she asked, putting her finger in her nose.
“No, I was just thinking that I’m really glad I have you. Get your finger out of your nose.”
She smiled and started to play a song on the guitar. I joined in on the bongos, and we both began to sing the lyrics to the song we had made up a few weeks ago. “When I was young, my mom was the milk man. My dad was the queen…” We stopped singing momentarily, but continued on with the music. “I WILL LICK YOUR BRAIN!” I yelled.
She looked at me strangely, and laughed. “I’m glad I have you also.”
The rain came then, and it was the most refreshing thing I could have imagined at the moment. I tilted my head back and opened my mouth to allow the rain to drench me, inside and out.
“Have some vodka!” Lethia yelled, holding up her bottle. “We’re getting drunk tonight!”
“Hell yes!” we clinked out bottles together. It would have been a real clink if they were glass, but they were plastic, so it made a thud instead. “Tilt your head back. Let’s finish the cup!”
“I love the Beastie Boys!”
“Leth, we’re so bad.”
“I’m sayin.”

That was the last time I saw her. It’s been four months, and I feel empty without her presence. I resent the decisions I was forced to make. I was forced to move five states away. I curse the day I had that party in the apartment I had once occupied. I curse the day I called my mother to tell her I was leaving town with my boyfriend. If not for those actions, I wouldn’t have gotten in trouble, and I wouldn’t have gotten caught. I would have everything I want. I would have the two most important people in my life close to me. I wouldn’t have these violent images tacked to my brain. So, yes, I blame myself for my own demise.

“I miss you.” His voice was nearly silent and somewhat emotional over the phone. I could barely hear him. I felt helpless.
“I miss you too, Baby.” My words wouldn’t come out the way I wished for them to. What I wanted to convey to him wouldn’t come out through words alone, anyway. Words only seemed to mar what I wanted him to know. Besides that, I had already said all the words I could think to say, and they were beginning to feel overplayed, like a bad record.
I had to remain strong for him. But inside, I was quickly crumbling. “Don’t worry,” I said, “time will go by quickly if we just keep occupied.” I didn’t believe what I was saying, and I doubted that he did either. But he went along with it. I knew he didn’t want me to worry about him. But he knew that I worried anyway. Worry was inevitable.
He didn’t say anything.

Rage. Pure black rage. I felt it, and so did my fist, and I’m guessing the wall did too. It was times like these that words weren’t enough. Words were never enough, and I was beginning to realize that.

“How do you know?” Lethia asked, slightly disbelieving.
“Her dad told me when I called the other night.” He was crying.
“Shit…” she breathed.
There was silence then, because there was nothing else to be had. The two had never liked each other, but at that moment, they seemed to come together.
“How did she do it?” she questioned.
“Overdose. What else?”
“Christ. I never thought she was serious.”


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