'Nothing will ever be the same with me ever again.'


I thought this as I looked out the clear, oval window seeing the passing clouds fly. I sighed. I didn’t want to move, not one bit. But my dad came home with news that he was being deployed to France for some reason. He was staying there for two years. Two years is a very long time so my family got the bright idea to move. My sister and brother were all for it of course. I hated the idea. “We are just over the Pacific Ocean! Can you believe it? Just think, we are just a couple thousand miles above tons and tons of water!” My sister exclaimed. I rolled my eyes. “Does it matter?” I asked. She stared at me. “Of course it matters! We are so close to-” I cut her off. “To nothing. It does not matter.” I turned back to the window and continued to stare into nothingness, ignoring the world. It felt good to look out at nothing. It was sort of relatable to me. It was like the nothingness of my existence. No one would care if I had suddenly disappeared. No one would care if I became a mute, no one would care if I did anything. A pit of sorrow wallowed up inside me. The sadness started to choke me. No. I couldn’t cry. Not with everyone here. I bit my lip, hard, forcing the pain to dispel into the blackness from which it had emerged. Breathing deeply, I drew my gaze away from the outside and looked around at the people on the plane. There weren’t very many people, just my family and I, and two French tourists. I guess they wanted to see the United States. Who wouldn’t want to see it? I would love to go back. It was my homeland, my place, my life until now. I sighed again. I hated change. I wanted to go back to my school again. I wanted to see my friends. I wanted to be there for them. I even wanted to see the guy who broke my heart. I missed feeling extremely crazy with my friends, that or helpful at least. I missed feeling a dark wave of depression threaten me every time I walked into a class that I had with the guy I had loved. I missed me. I missed being me. I shook my head, trying to relinquish all of my thoughts. But a part of me continued to cling on to them. I gave up and put my headphones in, so I’d at least have something else try to take over my mind. Suddenly, the plane gave a strong, forceful jerk. I grabbed the armrests as the plane shuddered and started to descend. I stopped my music and pulled out my headphones. I immediately wish I hadn’t. My little sister was screaming so distressfully it made me want to die. My older sister had fainted and my brother was going into shock. I looked behind me to see my parents rushing towards us. They gathered us up in their arms and held us tightly to them. “We’re gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay.” My father kept muttering over and over. We sat there for a minute, listening to the waling sirens, the rushing of fire, and the screaming of the other passengers. A strange peace swept over me. If this was my end, I was ready for it. I was ready to die. All of a sudden, I couldn’t hear. All the noises disappeared. Then, a deafening crash broke through the silence. I felt the impact almost at the same time as I had heard it. My father’s arms slipped away as the plane crumbled into a metal heap. I was lying on the ground, fire surrounding me, sand falling onto my face when a black wave rose behind my eyes. I didn’t try to stop it. Maybe it was death. I let is wash over me, and I could see no more.
I awoke to the sound of my mother screaming. I slowly pulled myself up so I was sitting. I felt intense pain from my ankle and a few fingers, but I didn’t think anything was broken. But I couldn’t quite hear right. Every noise felt distant and not really there. I looked over at my mom and dad seeing them crouched down over a body, with my dad’s face turned to the Heavens and my mom’s to the body below. Who was that? I struggled to get up. The pain in my ankle intensified to an excruciating pain. But I had to get over there. I slowly limped over. The persons face lethargically came into focus. My eyes widened as I realized who it was. It was my brother. For a minute, I couldn’t feel anything. My heart was in my throat and tears were spilling down my face. I fell to my knees, grief taking over me. “No!” I shrieked. “Why, God, why?” I let my face fall into my hands. I couldn’t stop crying. My parents and sisters continued to cry. Then sun had set and the moon had just begun to rise when we finally pulled ourselves together. We had a proper burial, the best we could do in a desert. We found a part of the wing of the plane arching high overhead and made that our temporary home. We cried ourselves to sleep. The next day, we tried to scavenge anything we could use from the plane wreck. We did not speak of my brother. We couldn’t deal with the pain. Not that way. Suddenly, my sister screamed and fell down on her arms and knees. She started gasping for breath. I dropped everything I was holding and ran over to her. Everyone else did too. She began to cough towards the ground. I saw little droplets of red start to spew from her coughing bouts. Then she just began emitting large amounts of blood. My dad’s eyes widened as he saw a little critter crawl away from my sister. It was a scorpion. We watched as the poison slowly took control of my sister. We were unable to help. Tears started to flow down my cheek. What was happening to me? I may have a bad life but I never thought that my siblings would die. Since I knew that there was nothing I could do, I crouched down next to her and whispered ever so slightly, “I love you, sis.” A ball seemed to be lodged in my throat. I recognized the feeling with a bang. It was sorrow. Sadness. Depression. My sister was dying and I couldn’t do anything. I watched as her eyes slowly had the pain disappeared, replaced by an unsettling dullness. Finally, her body gave one final jerk, as her heart gave out, and she remained eerily still, staring into the nothingness of the sky. She was gone. My mom closed her eyes with the gentle touch of her fingers. I looked at my sister’s face, feeling an emotion I was not ready for. Longing. I was longing to have this over. Even though it has only been two days, my ankle hurt so very bad, my two of my sibling had died and...my dad. I looked at him strangely. He was smiling. He had a wild look to his eyes. I edged away from him He started jerking then he turned and ran towards the still continuously burning plane wreck. “Dad!” I screamed. “What are you doing?!” He turned around; smiling deviously but there was great sadness in his eyes. “We are going to die anyway right? Why should we delay our deaths? I will not wait around for it to reach me!” He yelled. He turned back to the fire and run straight into it. I froze. I wanted to put my hands to my ears so bad, to block out the terrible screams that had begun. My eyes widened in horror as I got a glimpse of my dad, running from one wing of the plane to the other. Half his face was black, the other was gone, pieces of skin still slowly dripping off his skull. His arm was gone will the other was burning; the skin was flying off in large scraps. His legs were both black and he had one foot. I clutched my stomach as I vomited. It was such a terrible sight. I wish I could get rid of it. But it kept coming back. After I finished vomiting, my dad was dead. I couldn’t see him, and I didn’t think I wanted too. My dad had died. He burned himself alive. He’d gone insane. I looked over at my mother. She was crying so very hard and retching so much. I ran to her side and tried to help her. But she just kept vomiting. Continuously. It began to dawn on me that I was losing my mother as well. I threw my arms around her and screamed at her, “No! You can’t leave me mom! YOU CAN’T!” I wept as she looked up at me with sad eyes. “Good-bye. I love you.” Then the light that I loved disappeared from her eyes. She was gone. My brother was gone. My sister was gone. My dad was gone. I was alone, in a desert, with nothing to help me take care of myself but a few scraps of metal and some burnt food. How could I survive? My phone was in the plane wreck, along with everyone else’s. I had no way to survive. I looked at the scraps of metal, an idea forming in my brain. My dad was right. Why hold off from death any longer? I slowly got up and walked over to the wreck. Nothing mattered. My friends will understand. Hopefully. When I got over to the wreck I found a sharp, slender piece of metal. I took a deep breath. Could I really do this? I could. Would I really do this? I would. Can I really do this? ...I must. I stared at the piece of metal. This was going to be hard. I thought about my past life. Usually when I do this, I think of everything bad that has happened to me. But for the first time in a long, long time, I thought of all the good things that had happened to me. I remembered the first time I started to play my trombone. I remembered when I met my best friend in fifth grade. I remembered sixth grade, and my improvement on the trombone. I remembered fourth grade and my talent for poetry that was discovered. I remembered seventh grade, oh how much happened then. I remember how I met my now closest friends. I remember dancing with the boy I had loved, I remember him telling me he loved me, I remember when we first kissed, when we first held hands, when we first hugged. I remember when I went with the eighth grade band to a band judgment. I remember when I went to Arkansas for two months. I remember in eighth grade, when I became an esteemed writer. I remember when my art skills flew through the roof. I remember getting better at the trombone. I remember finding diamonds in my backyard. I remember my hair getting longer and turning black. I remember beginning a charm necklace. I remember reading an amazing book series. I remember excelling at math and English. I remember learning Grade 6 music on the piano. I remember finding a musical group that could sing my thought exactly. I remember trying this before. I remember how I cut myself with a pencil, slowly upgrading to a razor, and then a knife. I remember the blood, pouring out of my arm, my mom screaming at me but me not hearing... No. I can’t go out with bad thoughts. What else was great? I remembered spending time with my friends. I remembered how much they helped me through my depression and suicidal thoughts. I remembered my family. My sister, always positive and having a sixty-thousand word dictionary in her head. My brother, the sports fanatic, who was always beating me at sprinting but not long distance running. My mother, caring, kind, loving, all that I could ever wish for, always was helping others. My father, always in a rush, for fear that life could end at any time. And...me. Before my attempted suicide, before someone tore my heart in two for the first time, before all the sadness...I was happy. I was at peace with my life, content with my surroundings. I loved life. I didn’t quite have many friends but I didn’t care. And now, for the first time in a long time, I felt the same way. Happy, and content with life. I was again at peace. I would now be moving on to another peaceful, worry-free life. I just had to die. Slowly, I lifted the piece of metal to my chest. I was ready. I was ready to die. I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see the metal go through my chest. Then, with my last tear tracing down my cheek, I plunged the metal through my heart. The pain was sudden and sharp, but began to dim away as I died. And then, when I was gasping for air, I had my final thought.
'Nothing will ever be the same with me ever again.'