out the in door

sidenote: this story is long and winding. it's not all that pleasant to write either. i feel that i need to finish it. there are lots of stories out there. i don't know if reading mine will help anyone or if it will help me. but this is something that i feel strongly has to have an end. i don't want to pick at this scab for too much longer... :end side note

school ended. the girl didn't feel the need to extend it. she packed her things and went home. she worked for her sister the chef. she waited tables, she made drinks, she made salads, she washed dishes. then she made more drinks and watched her sister. her sister's life was being erroded as she simply ate fast food before bed with a side of 12 beers, or 16, or a bottle of vodka. the girl's memory on this isn't clear.

time ticked on. the girl's father had parkinson's. he fell. he needed help. he couldn't put on his own socks. he couldn't finish sentences. he couldn't stay in bed and would emit a large thump as he hit the wood floor. he felt sad and he felt ashamed.

time continued to tick. the girl's mother couldn't find work. her memory had been continually fried by exposure to the shock therapy. she tried volunteering but found that every skill had disappeared along with the memories.

as time kept ticking, people died. people killed themselves. hearts gave out. cars left the road too fast and too soon. the girl kept getting out of bed. she went to funerals. she stopped looking in the mirror. she prayed for the end of summer.

summer finished up and she took her restaurant earnings to the big city. stayed with her college boyfriend. got a job working in a call center. the ideas for leaving kept dripping into her mind. she got a place on her own and was left with her thoughts.

she dated, she fell in and out of love. she was in a band. she cried and went to the doctor. she took the pills and she talked. then she broke. she saw her escape route. she took it. she swallowed a pint glass full of pills.

she woke up the next morning.

she didn't look in the mirror. she called her boyfriend and told him that she needed to be in the hospital. the girl wouldn't be able to push on for another day. she hoped for the psych ward. it hadn't worked for her sister. nor her mother. nor her grandmother. nor her great-grandfather. she did not care because the exit door she had avoided all this time had not opened. she didn't want to try and open it again.