Monday, May 11, 2009

Dear Annabel,

This is a short story I wrote for one of my english projects last year about responsibilty. I'm aware that it just touches the topic without completely covering it, but my english teacher said she thought that it was an interesting way to look at it. Haha, you decide.

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Why is it that when we love something unconditionally we always seem to need to do what we think is best for them? Who decides what's acceptable and what's not? I think everyone has a different perspective on love. Like snowflakes, no two people think the exact same way. They might have similar patterns and processes they go through, but if you tracked their DNA you'd find that it's impossible to be identical. Not everyone agrees with your opinions, which is why our world will always be in conflict and is such a cruel, harsh place.

I'm sorry Annabel.

I first met him when I was only 17 years old. We just kind of had an instant connection, one that couldn't be ignored. We didn't get together however, for another three and a half years. Our lives went in different directions until we met again at a grocery store downtown. He was picking up ingredients for a BBQ he was throwing and being who he was, asked me along. I naturally had nothing to do, so I accepted.

That night went well, it's one of the best memories I have of us together, one of the rare few. We hit it off, our chemistry strong as ever and were married in a little over a year. As you can tell, I fell absolutely in love with him.

I'm sorry Annabel.

We were at a party one time and he got a little drunk -- scary drunk. From wine spritzers and champagne, kokanees and canadians, to martinis and pina coladas. I'm sure he had at least two of each. It's safe to say he had no idea who he or anyone around him was. So when he hit me, I blamed it on the alcohol. The next morning as he started to come to, he asked me how I got my black eye and I told him that I had hit my face on a doorknob while sweeping the floor. I lied to him. For him.

I used to wonder why you can't remember anything that happens while you're drunk. Experts would say that it probably has something to do with a chemical imbalance, but I refuse to believe that. You forget what happened the night before because you don't want to remember. You don't want to have to face everything you've done because all we want is to get away from ourselves and our problems. And that's no excuse. I know that know.

This was how things went in our household for most of the next year. I didn't know what I'd done to deserve this kind life and I still don't understand why this happened to us.

I'm sorry Annabel.

When I walked through the front door of our house I could smell it -- the alcohol. It reeked of empty pizza boxes and beer cans. I made my way through the hallway coming to a stop at the opening into our living room. I could hear his steady breathing from the doorway. I peeked around and saw that he was sleeping, so i tried to make my way as quietly as I could, past him and up the stairs. If I was lucky, he wouldn't wake up until after i was gone in the morning. I wasn't.

As I was rounding his chair, i didn't notice the pyramid of cans stacked beside and being a naturally clumsy person, crashed right into them. He woke with a start. I can still hear his words in my mind. His usual soft, bright voice was replaced by a deep, throaty snarl as he came straight for me. A human's natural instinct is to run away from a threat, like animals, and if they know they can't escape they fight back.

I ran; up the stairs and into the closet. I knew he wouldn't be as fast as me, he was way too drunk to comprehend what was happening and i hoped that if i waited, he'd finally get so upset and lost that he'd pass out.

I waited in the closet for what seemed like hours. I couldn't hear him anymore, so I pushed my way out cautiously. He was waiting for me right outside the wooden doors, in a daze.

I'm sorry Annabel.

Those white, gauzy curtains, blowing lightly in the summer's air. Back and forth, in and out. It was a rhythm, constant, never changing, that I focused on. It would soon be all over, I knew. I'd close the window afterwards, in my solitude, to stop the pattern, the thoughts. They'd swirl around inside until I could no longer feel myself. What can you do when you're all alone, holed up in a room that you don't want to escape from? The answer is think; and my thoughts were never right, which made the silence deafening. We all like to pretend that everything's just fine, when the truth is, it never is. Something in someone's life is always going wrong. It might be a minor, little detail, but it counts. And those white, flowing curtains helped keep me sane through the madness. They were something I could always count on to be there for me.

I'm sorry Annabel.

I found out weeks after. A month and a half maybe.. the first week of September when I left for my parents in Michigan. They couldn't tell yet, it wasn't obvious to anyone but me. I kept us a secret for as long as I could, but maybe even that wasn't long enough. It's easy to come to conclusions after the fact, you already know what to expect; but when you're dealing with the unknown, everything's a gamble and I wasn't willing to put us on the line. So I left.

There probably would've been a better time to leave, considering the -15*C temperature outside, but I knew we had to get away from him. We made our way to the nearest homeless shelter and were told we could only stay the night on such short notice beacuse of the family rule. I was so glad to finally be away from him and I could tell you were too; the way you can feel when something has finally gone right for a change. This was a step in the right direction for us. Being away from him was safer, more relaxed, controlled. And that's what I needed for you. For us.

The usual residents were wary at first. Why did this woman have such well fitting and stylish clothes? Why did she look so put together? Why, was she here? I answered all of these questions,but the last one, with ease. They seemed to understand that we were in the same situation and I made friends with a few of them. They knew where I was coming from. Especially Alanne. A lot of broken familes had come in and out of the home and a lot of them even had personal experiences that matched my own. They didn't judge me because they knew that it happened to the best of people, after all, it had happened to them hadn't it?
When they told me later that they'd be sad to see us go when he came to get me, i was shocked. I never considered that he'd want to come looking for us, I just assumed he wouldn't care that we were gone. Well, that I was gone. If he knew about you he'd be back to get us and pretend like nothing had happened to pull us apart.

She was right. We'd been at the shelter for a total of 2 1/2 months and when he walked through that door, bouquet in hand, my heart dropped out of my chest. He had come. He could see the truth now. I could tell that he was angry, I saw the flash behind his eyes, but his smile never faltered. He was a wonderful actor.

He came in close, all of my new friends were watching warily for my reaction. As he leaned in to hug me and kiss my cheek, I flinched and saw the flash again. I remember him whispering that we'd talk about you later. To most people that might seem reassuring, but to me it was pure terror. I didn't want to talk about you, there was nothing to say, nothing more to do about it.

I knew that I somehow had to get out, so I went with him, assuring my friends that we'd be alright and told them not to worry, that I'd be back. I knew I could never return to the same place, the same friends, if I didn't want to get caught again.

I'm sorry Annabel.

He yelled all the way home, as soon as we were out of view and I was afraid for your safety more than mine. He threatened us, when we got inside, disregarding my feelings and pinching me in the face, then stormed up the stairs. I heard the clash of beer cans as he made his way up. And as I looked over my newly acquired bruises, I realized I didn't have to take this bullshit anymore. That I could handle this and take care of you my way. I was gone before he knew what happened.

It's so cold tonight. I can't believe it's April and it's this cold... As soon as I walked away from the house I knew it would be tonight, so I had to prepare myself. I walked to the bridge that Alanne had once described to me and when I got there, I knew exactly what she meant when she told me that it was the best place to sit and think.

There was a wooden bench, the metal legs bent up to the sky, as if reaching for the heavens, that faced the flowing river. The rain was coming down in big fat drops, plop, plop, plop. The setting was perfect for what i had planned, but instead of going ahead with it I did exactly what Alanne told me to. I sat and thought. About what I was going to do, about how it would effect everything and everyone. Some people would remember the good things, others the bad. Some people would miss being around me, some people would forget. I could take that, it wouldn't be much longer anyways, I could already feel the pain writhing through me then.

Four hours later and here you are. You're so beautiful, crying in my arms. I know I've hurt you, which is why I can't let you suffer anymore. Stroking your tiny little fingers and toes has made me smile one last time and for a moment I wonder if I can really do this.. But it's too late now, I can see your body growing still, the morphine kicking in. I couldn't let you grow up with him as a father. It wasn't fair to bring you into a broken, abusive home. It was my fault for putting up with him and his ways, and I'm sorry my little Annabel.

You're cold now; I didn't used to believe that that happened when somebody died, but now I'm faced with the reality. It's starting to become harder for me to breathe, my eyesight is blurring and fading and I feel as if I have abolutely no energy left. I wonder if this is what it was like for you mere moments ago? But it doesn't matter anymore, soon I'll be on the other side with you, I know you're waiting there for me, for us to go together. We're going to a better place Annabel Rayne Jones, a place where he can't hurt you, or me any longer. I'm only sorry that you couldn't grow up to see that this world isn't as bad as everyone makes it out to be. That there's still sunshine through the darkness. Like what's happening right now for example. Goodbye world, hello Annabel.


Love,
Kaela Annabel Jones



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