Dee's Story

Diana Chow
11-F
ENG2D6-02
Ms. Mohamed
November 3, 2003

The Price to Pay

My mind urged me to leave the house as soon as I heard the loud yelling through the crack of my door. Yet that same fear that swallows me everytime got me again. But this time, I had to fight back. A thousand emotions swept through my mind as I looked back on all the times mom and dad fought. They were countless. In a rush, a surge of energy passed through me and deep down, I found the courage to run out of my protective room, downstairs and into the front hall that never seemed so long. People turned their heads to look at me as I raced out the door like a blur, but I didn’t care. I just needed to get out of there.

I couldn’t tell which was louder—the rhythmic pounding of my heart, or the steady beating of my white sneakers against the pavement. I looked down the path and saw the red, copper and yellow leaves as they swirled around me in a frenzied dance. The leaves seemed to be on a path, a never ending journey without a destination. They went wherever the wind blew. That’s how I wanted to be. Subtle, gentle and free. As I took in the view around me, I closed my eyes and remembered this moment forever.

I didn’t know where to go, nor did I know where I could go. I reached into the back pocket of my favorite old pair of jeans and pulled out my cell phone. In a dazed manner, I fumbled with the buttons, scrolling through my list of numbers. A part of me wanted to call my friends, but I had bothered them enough with my problems. I didn’t really know who to turn to.

Sometimes I would wonder if anybody really cared about me. It always seemed as if the whole world was too busy with something else, never being able to give me the time of day. Especially my parents. I always thought parents were supposed to be the ones to provide their child with nurture. Growing up, I’ve always watched the other kids with a longing to just be able to feel what it was like to be cared for by the two individuals who gave me the gift of life. I would always watch as the children weaved their hands through their parent’s with a genuinely happy look on their face as they took a stroll through the park or through the shopping mall. I can’t remember the last time I had experienced that kind of joy and love with anything concerning my parents.

I finally snapped back to reality as I realized how long I had been walking, and my hands were beginning to numb in the cold of late November. Wiping my eyes with my sleeve, I reached in my back pocket again and pulled out my cell phone. I began to call up Clarence. The phone rang and immediately, he picked up.

“Hello?”
“Hey … it’s me. Can I come over?” I asked, my voice trembling through the tears.
“Sure. Are you okay? Where are you?”
“Don’t worry about it … I’ll tell you when I get there. Just give me five minutes.”
“Okay, then … see you.”

Hastily shoving the phone back in my pocket, I walked in the direction of Clarence’s house. I guess he was watching for me through the window, because right when I reached the doorstep, the door swung open, and out stepped one of my very best friends, immediately embracing me in a warm hug. Once again, my emotions took over me and I could feel the tears well up and slide down my already tear-stained cheeks. He pulled away, and tucked the strands of hair that fell into my face behind my ears.

“Come in and tell me what happened,” he said in a gentle voice.
Entering his house, I immediately navigated myself into the living room, where we normally had our talks. This was like my second home. Justin wandered into the kitchen to make me some of his to-die-for hot chocolate. I know, because he always does when I come over. He knows it’s my favorite. I looked around the living room, at the walls that gave me a sense of comfort and security. I inhaled and was able to smell the tempting aroma of Vietnamese food that drifted from the kitchen, even though his mom wasn’t cooking. I looked up and saw the same painting of the open sea and the sun setting behind it, the same painting that I remember seeing the first time I ever stepped foot into this house. I smiled and knew that I would always have a place here, no matter what.

Clarence came back from the kitchen, with the two cups in his hand. Carefully, he handed the cup to me, not letting go until I had closed my hands firmly around the middle of the cup. The smell of his infamous hot chocolate filled my nose and I closed my eyes for a moment to remember this moment with my photographic memory.
“So, tell me … what happened?” he asked, with a look in his eyes that let me know that he was genuinely concerned.
“I …” And it all came out. Every last detail. Even things that I had never told him before, I finally opened up to say. As I talked, I felt my small, dark cell that I had trapped myself in for so long open up. I could feel every emotion pass through my mind as I spoke of every cry, every fight, and every long night. I paused a moment, making sure he was really listening. At that same moment, for the first time, I looked at him carefully, examining his face. I took in every single feature, from the depth of his soft brown eyes, to the dimple in his right cheek that showed up when he had that attentive look on his face. I could see his brows furrowed, and that let me know he was listening, lingering on my every word.

I then made a decision—a decision to tell a secret so deep, that I was afraid of the truth myself. I had buried that secret deep, deep enough so that nobody would ever suspect anything. I had concealed this so deep within me, that I wasn’t sure I knew how to express it. Slowly, I looked down at my arms that were covered by the long sleeves of my sweatshirt. “Look,” I said, not really believing that the word had left my mouth.

Hesitantly but slowly, I rolled up my sleeves. I quickly looked away, scared that the tears would start falling again. I didn’t know what Justin’s reaction would be, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know. I heard a gasp, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Cadence … why … why do you do this to yourself?” he asked as he cradled my arm in his hands. “Why didn’t you ever tell someone? Oh, my God …”

I looked at his face and saw true sadness in his eyes. I then looked down at my own arms, the thin red lines that I had created as a reminder of my struggles. Each scar represented a struggle that I had overcome, a battle that I had won. I looked up just in time to see a single tear roll down his cheek—something that I had never seen before. Somehow, I had broken the barrier that had been shielding the part of him that he did not want me to see. I didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry …” I managed to mumble, not knowing why I said it. “I don’t know why. Please don’t ask. It was the only thing I could do that wouldn’t harm anyone else.”

There was an awkward pause, a lull in the conversation.
He didn’t say anything in what felt like hours, but he broke the loudest silence by pulling me into a strong embrace, one that assured me that one day, everything would be alright.

“You know I would’ve been there.” That night, he walked me home. For the first time of the day, I wondered if my parents had noticed I was gone. Were they looking for me? But then I realized that it didn’t matter. I wanted this walk to last forever, but I knew I could only cherish it while it lasted.

When we arrived at my doorstep, we looked at each other, not knowing what to say. I went on my tip-toes, giving him a peck on the cheek, keeping it short and sweet. I then looked up at his height, and a weak smile spread across my chapped lips. “Thank you … you know … for everything.”

“You know that’s not necessary. Best friends are best friends for a reason, you know,” he replied to my gratitude.
With a single smile, I slipped into the house, not having a single clue what would happen the moment I stepped into the house.
And nothing happened. The feuding continued, and I stormed up to my room. It wouldn’t matter how much noise I made, they wouldn’t hear me. It was so typical of them to not notice at all that their only daughter had been missing for more than half the day. I went up to my room, my sanctuary. I sighed, flopping onto my bed, and began staring at the bumpy ceiling, secretly wishing it would just fall on me and end my misery.

I didn’t notice it at first, but I suddenly realized that the shouting had stopped abruptly. I walked to the door of my room and peered out to the hallway tentatively, listening for any sign of the war being waged only five minutes earlier. I then heard footsteps making way up the stairs, and I knew it was mom and dad. I frantically scrambled back into my room, my back facing the door.

“Cadence, honey …” I heard my mom begin. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear what she had to say.
“Your father and I have been talking and making some decisions.”
Yeah, more like having screaming matches, I thought to myself, a smirk forming at the corner of my lips. I wished with all my might that they would just disappear.

My dad spoke now. “You know how your mother and I have been having some hard times lately, and problems have been arising left and right. I don’t know how to put this, but love doesn’t last forever. And in this case, love ceases to exist between your mother and I. We think the only way to resolve this is for us to separate. Now, this doesn’t mean that you won’t still see both of us regularly. It’s just that—Cadence? Honey?”

“I think she’s asleep,” I heard my mom whisper. They didn’t even bother coming around to the other side of the room to see if I was really sleeping. The tears were staining my pillow, but I couldn’t care less. Mom and dad left my room, and I couldn’t help but think negative thoughts. I decided that tomorrow would be the last day of my suffering. I couldn’t let this go on to be the rest of my life. I wasn’t sure why I did it, but for the first time ever, I prayed to God, or whoever was up there, to let me be remembered. And I then let the whirring of the heater lull me to sleep.

5:00 A.M., my eyes fluttered open. I lay there, letting the scenes of the saddest and happiest times of my life flash before my eyes. Then, with a determination I never before experienced, I rose out of bed and into my parent’s bathroom. There in the medicine cabinet, I knew sat my destiny, my fate, in a tiny bottle. Silently, I opened the cabinet and removed the bottle of sleeping pills that I know my dad used. I filled two glasses of water, and carried it all back into my room.

Never looking back once nor hesitating, I sat on my bed. Opening the bottle and removing the tiny tablets from the bottle never seemed so difficult. I closed my eyes, taking in as many as possible and gulped down every last one of them.

I then lay back in bed, covering myself with the blanket. I looked around my room, trying to remember every last detail, every sign of comfort that I had wrapped myself within for the past sixteen years of my life. I thought of Clarence and everything he had ever done for me. It was then that I realized I couldn’t have even lasted this long had it not been for his comforting words. I know he’d understand why I was doing this. He had to.

I closed my eyes, ending the book that I called my life.