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"I love you," she whispered into her black sequined cell phone. All you could hear on the other line was the rustle of paper that returned what she thought was a start of something new. "Did you hear me?" she paused. "I said I love you." After another pause of silence, tears streamed down her puffy red cheeks as she tried to settle her breath and clear her mind. “Dad, please, respond to me?” Another minute passed and by this point she was leaning against the wall as silently as possible sobbing with despair as the phone call drew to an end causing a beeping noise. As she got up off the floor to make her way to the restroom she felt broken. Broken into a million pieces that could never be put back together. She looked into the mirror and
“Picking up the pieces of their shattered lives was very, very difficult, but most survivors found a way to begin again.” Once again, Helen was faced with the struggle of living life day-to-day, trying not to continue feeling the pain of her past.
One late summer night when AAM was ten years old, she was cuddled up with her younger brother and sister in piles of sleeping bags on the floor. The pain of the last few months had graciously excused itself that night while hope, instead, was finally welcomed in. She remembers the night feeling carefree; especially once her parents came into join them. However, the happiness quickly vanished and heart-crushing fear began to set in as her parents said, “We have something to tell you.” Her heart began to beat unsteadily with each breath catching in her throat. She looked around to find her little brother and sister pale and lifeless. Her dad looked distant while her mom was epically failing at hiding her tears. All too soon the four most horrid words AAM would ever hear were said. “We are getting divorced,” her parents stated. At that moment, the entire world crashed down around her; leaving her helpless and alone. All she remembers today is her mom’s piercing cries in her parents’ old bedroom, and the terror-stricken fear of not knowing what will happen tomorrow.
Wendy cried more with recognition of her father’s impatience. Her tongue fumbled to find her words. “I … it’s the voices… I … I heard the whispers daddy.” She said, spitting the words out.
“We played The Soul Game today.” Her words hit me like a wrecking ball. “What’s the soul game?” her head was like a spinning chair, for she couldn’t keep her gaze. Her amber eyes darted all over the car, and sweat beaded from her brows. “I said no thank you, but she told me we wouldn’t be friends anymore if I didn’t!” a tear ran down her cheek. “WHAT. IS. THE. SOUL. GAME. TELL. ME. CHILD.” I turned off the car. “I cant tell you, the rules are so horrible! I cant!” she screamed. “Well will Violet tell me?” the look on Alyssa’s face was pure torture towards me. No one ever wants their child to appear so angry and frustrated. “NO!!” she squealed, scaring me, and making my blood run cold. “DON’T ASK HER. PLEASE. DON’T!” I opened my car door, confused and frightened. “PROMISE ME MOM!” I shut the door, heading towards her side where she was going ballistic. She was bawling, terrified. I opened her door and took her in my arms, and rocked her the way I used to when she was little, and had a bad dream. She fell asleep there, and I calmly took her to her room and laid her in her bed. Maybe sleep would make her
“Please don’t go Dad.” Ell said with tears forming at the corners of her eyes, “Please don’t”. “I’ll always be here honey, never stop trying” Ell’s father said with his last breath. The room fell silent, then the heart rate monitor let out a single droning beep. Ell’s father had gone still, and now with tears rolling down her cheeks, Ell hugged her father, “I’ll make sure of it Dad”.
The car ride to their house was dead silent. When we had gotten to their house, they sat us down and told us the horrible news, Daddy was in the hospital. I sat there in shock for a moment to really understand what they had told me. Then when I understood what was said, my heart fell to my toes. I busted out into tears. I didn’t know what was wrong with him. I didn’t understand why he was in that place. He was fine this morning, he brought us to Nana and Poppy’s house and he was healthy. How could he be sick?? For the next few days, I wasn’t myself. The days that he was gone, I couldn’t eat or sleep. I was too worried to even go to school, but I had to go. I didn’t play with my friends on the playground, I couldn’t take naps, and I didn’t even want to color. My friends knew what was going on and they tried to help, but the only thing that could help was my Daddy being okay. While he was there, I didn’t get to go see him once. I hated not seeing my Daddy. I just wanted my best friend home with me. A few days had passed and he finally came home. I was so excited when he came home. I thought, “Finally, things can go back to normal.” I didn’t believe that anything would change. The day after he came home I overheard Mom telling Nana and Poppy what the doctor told her, “He had a mini stroke. And if doesn’t stop smoking, he wouldn’t live much
the cry and looked around she said “hello?” then she heard from above “can you please help
I quickly dried off with the pink mermaid towel. Our friends came outside and sat down on the poolside chairs without making eye contact or making a single sound. I went inside to find my father sitting down on the big comfy lazy boy chair in our living room just off the kitchen. He asked me to sit on his lap, and he put his arms around my side. We sat there in silence for a few seconds. My stomach churned, something was really wrong. In a quiet calm voice my dad explained to me where my mother was and why she wasn’t with us. I couldn’t hold it together; tears came pouring down my face, I wanted to scream. I wanted to see my mother so bad; her gentle hugs were so comforting. All I could think about was how I would no longer be able to ride my blue sparkly bike with My Little Pony stickers on it down the street to my grandparents house to hear my grandpa's’ stories, eat all the orange popsicles in the freezer, and call him up to see if he had the ingredient my mom forgot to get for baking. My dad asked me not to tell my sister yet, that she was too young to understand what was going on right
Esther heard the phone ringing as she turned down the side walk from the alley and entered the back yard. Unhurried she leaned her bike against the house, her usual spot just behind the lilac bush and before the cellar. She pulled the canvas bag of groceries from the basket and headed for the back door. The cell phone in her hip pocket sounded, a text message had arrived. She ignored it. She pulled the screen door open, twisting, she pivoted far enough to shove the back door open with a generous hip and let the door roll across her shoulders. She entered the kitchen with a complete 360 degree turn letting the screen door slam behind her. Esther crossed the worn linoleum floor from door to table in three long strides, dropped the bag on the table top and reached for the phone. “Hello?” she said then realized the black hand-set was only half way to her ear. “Hello?” It was actually in place. Wrinkling her nose she closed her eyes to concentrate on the call. “Hello?” Only the dial tone answered back. Puzzled, she placed the receiver back in its cradle on the wall.
Waking up with Shay cuddled next to me was magnificent. Her skin felt softer than freshly plucked rose petals, and she smelled even sweeter. I wanted to pinch myself, but I knew I wasn't dreaming because I was wide awake. I pressed my nude body against her warmth, kissed her on the nape of her neck, and tried to wake her up but it was useless.
Melanie Smith, whom was seventeen, was an ordinary girl like no other. She went to school, had a sweet sixteen, had friends, had a puppy, even had good grades, but there was a catch. She ended up coming home from school one day, with her mom and her older sister standing in the living room looking upset. “Your grandmother,” her mother, Maria starts. “Is at the hospital.” “Why?” Melanie asks. “She has,” her mother begins, not wanting to finish what she was about to say. “She has cancer,” her sister, Mandie replies. “She does?” Melanie asks, her eyes starting to water. They nod. She swarms them both in to a hug. “I’m sorry, mom,” Melanie says, letting go of them both slowly walking up the stairs to her bedroom.
Sitting on the bathroom floor, my mother, sixteen year old Andrea Butler, was curled up in a ball crying more than ever before. Several minutes passed before she stood up and looked into the mirror. She tried to compose herself by brushing through her dark brown hair, but as she looked back down at the small, plastic stick with two pink lines on it, her chocolate colored eyes immediately fill with tears once again. “What am I supposed to do?” My mother thought over and over in her head. She was among the top of her class. She had a plan. She wanted to graduate school and to attend college. Everyone expected the best from her; no one thought she could make a mistake that would cost her so much. “If I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant with you when
She looked down at her finger and realized that this might have just been her husband. She began to wonder around the house, looking at pictures of herself at her high school graduation, college graduation, and finally her family. She had two beautiful little girls and a handsome boy. While she was still trying to figure her life out, her phone began to ring, “Ms. Tamiya you have a client in your doctor’s office that wants to see you immediately. Tamiya couldn’t believe everything that was happening. She wasn’t ready for all of this responsibility, “A husband, kids, and job is not what I signed up for,” she said to herself. But she only had 15 minute before her birthday was
I can remember sitting in my small twin-sized bed, cold and alone, at midnight, listening to my strong and independent mother cries through the walls, because of the situation that we were in; this left me, at such a young and vulnerable age, confused and unsure of my families’ future. My adolescent mind could not understand the rough times that my mother faced each and every day, and I knew she didn’t deserve any of the hardships
She slammed the door behind her. Her face was hot as she grabbed her new perfume and flung it forcefully against the wall. That was the perfume that he had bought for her. She didn't want it anymore. His voice coaxed from the other side of the door. She shouted at him to get away. Throwing herself on the bed and covering her face with one of his shirts, she cried. His voice coaxed constantly, saying Carol, let me in. Let me explain.' She shouted out no!' Then cried some more. Time passed with each sob she made. When she caught herself, there was no sound on the other side of the door. A long silence stood between her and the door. Maybe she had been too hard on him, she thought. Maybe he really had a good explanation. She hesitated before she walked toward the door and twisted the handle. Her heart was crying out to her at this moment. He wasn't there. She called out his name. "Thomas!" Her cries were interrupted by the revving of an engine in the garage. She made it to the window in time to see his Volvo back out the yard. "Thomas! Thomas....wait!" Her cries vanished into thin air as the Volvo disappeared around the bend. Carol grew really angry all of a sudden. How could he leave? He'll sleep on the couch when he gets back. Those were her thoughts.