In Progress

         The car hummed beneath me, and the boxes filling every space of the car heightened my anxiety. The thought of starting over in a new place filled me with more. My eyes dart back and forth, looking for spots in-between traffic. The ride has been long and the classical music I played in hope to calm me down was not helping one bit. I glance over in the compartment under the stereo and see the multitude of bright orange pill containers, searching for the one marked “Benzodiazepine”. I pop a few and wait for the pills to take over me. The familiar wash spreads through my body and eases the anxious twitch in my eye I couldn’t get rid of before. My hands relax on the steering will and I soften my face, realizing now I was so tense.
         Deep breaths I think to myself.
         “Those things will kill you.” The voice from the passenger seat scares me only a little. I totally forgot my sister was in the car with me, even though she’s always been like that. Quiet until she wants to be heard, seeming to not exist until she wants to be known. I glance over at her from my comfortable seat. Her legs are pulled up to her chest, her shoes off and socks on. The thin sweater she has on are pulled past her fingertips and she’s not making eye contact.
         “You’re one to talk. You don’t even come out of your room, and I have no idea what medication you’re on. Probably worse than mine.” The little voice in my head telling me to stop nags at me, but the pills slowly make it fade away. The girl sitting next to me is fragile, and one wrong touch or mean comment could shatter her. It’s been this way since our parents died. The shock has faded for me, it’s just something I’ve had to get used to, but not for her. She carries it with her everywhere she goes, which is not a lot of places. It’s always there though, you can see it on her face.
         My back starts to ache from sitting in this car too long and I glance at the navigation system. An hour to go. I groan. My sister stares out the window, not helping at all to entertain me. I now wish she had gone with my Aunt Lola. When we were finished packing all the boxes I had insisted that Rose come with me during the trip, my Aunt Lola frowning, like she seemed concerned.
         “Violet,” she said slowly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Let me take her boxes and have her come with me.” Rose standing there between us, her arms crossed and head down, kicking at the rocks on the driveway. She seemed to not care, but I insisted, thinking that it would be better to have a companion to distract me from the pressure of driving so far, then to be alone. I should’ve known better. She’s barely said any words to me in the last few months. She just stays in her room in her bed with the lights off, reading. Nothing gets put away, and seems to stay in the same spot forever, which is frustrating for my OCD. When I do go in and try to clean up the mess it overwhelms me, and her screaming stops me from doing anything. She always apologizes after but it doesn’t do any good. Nothing matters anymore to her, not even me, and I know it. It’s heartbreaking to know that my strong big sister I used to know has disappeared, and I’m left all alone. An only child in my mind.
         
         Pulling up to Aunt Lola’s house is underwhelming. The familiar long driveway and big house that I used to live in is gone, and now I’m moving into a tiny three-bedroom cottage on the beach. I stare at the light blue and white trimmed house and take a deep breath. I open the door and get out, aunt Lola pulling up in her car behind me. We start to unload the boxes in silence, the sounds of the seagulls and the waves crashing on the beach filling in the open empty air. Rose stays in the car, head earbuds now in as I silently judge her. It’s not fair that I have to do all the work, but I don’t tell her that, I never will, I’m just not that kind of person. I go to open the door, setting the boxes down so I can use my free hands to use the key and unlock it. The door swings open and the first thing I see is the ocean. The sandy beach on the opposite side of the house can be seen through the gigantic sliding glass door that takes up almost the whole entire wall.
         I pick up the boxes in my hands and follow Lola up the stairs to my new room. The room is decorated for my older cousin who used to live here and I’m thankful for her taste of style. The California king bed up against one wall, the windows to its left, and the television is on the other side hoisted up on the wall by hangers. The closet is small, but the gigantic wardrobe next to the bed makes up for it. Through the bathroom I can see another door on the other side.
My aunt puts the boxes down in the room, and mentions that the bathroom joins with the guest room.
         “Rose’s room?” I ask but she’s too far down the hallways to hear.
         
         The windows are open and the sunset is blood red over the ocean. The cold breeze wafts in and nips at my exposed skin. Goosebumps rise on my arms as I reach for the bedside table with all of the bright orange bottles containing my pure happiness. I’ve become such an expert swallowing pills I don’t even need water anymore, and for quite some time I prided myself on that, but after a while I realized how stupid and sad it was.
         The first three go down easily and I lay back and wait for the happiness to come and the sadness to go away but as I lay there impatiently, and within a minute of nothing happening I take two more. I get up and start to pace.
         Why aren’t they working? My frustration and anger boil up inside of me. I hear the door to the hallway creak and whip my head over to see who it is but it’s just the wind. In an angry moment I kick it closed, the wood cracking near the doorknob. I stop in my tracks and stare, a hand over my mouth in shock. I hear footsteps pound up the stairs and all of a sudden, my door is wide open again, with a frantic Lola in the doorway.
         “Are you ok!?” Her eyes scan the room crazily, definitely taking a mental note of all of the bottles next to my bed. I nod my head sluggishly, feeling the medication now seeping through my body. Lola narrows her eyes, noticing my slow movements now, and the new sleepiness in my eyes. I sit down on my bed and put my head between hands when she leaves, loving the numb feeling coursing through my veins. I’m not a drug addict, I know that’s what some people might think but I’m not, I just have certain problems that I’m too weak to actually deal with. My anxiety is something no one can handle without medication and the depression is always seeping in no matter how much I take. I roll myself up into a ball and curl up in my clothes over the covers at the end of the bed, not caring enough to actually tuck myself in.
         
         The sand is cold this early in the morning, but the steaming cup of coffee in my hands helps with the bitter early morning freeze sweeping off the ocean. The wind seems to search through every piece of my clothing, making its presence known and seeming determined to stay. The clothes I have on do nothing to stop it and I criticize myself for being so stupid to wear this and not think I would get cold.
         It’s too late now I think to myself. I sit down on the dunes watching the waves violently crash onto the sand. No one is on the beach at this time and the sun is about to rise, but the sky is still a dark blue, with grey clouds hanging around. Finally, after some time the sky begins to turn lighter, first just a light blue and then gradually becoming lighter and more golden. The sun’s rays start to edge over the ocean, creating bright colors all over the sky. Minutes go by. I can hear voices and laughter on the beach now as people come to watch what I’m watching. It’s spectacular the way the waves seem to dance under the sun, as it rises steadily. My eyes burn but I can’t keep them off of the beautiful dance between the ocean and sky.
         This backfires though because I feel a force on the side of my head, the coffee mug spilling from my hands and catching all in the sand. The hit was hard and deafening, cancelling all sound around me so that I could only feel the pain in my head and the sound of my heartbeat, which was fast and out of control. I took my pills this morning but I guess not enough to drown out this pain. Usually I would be numbed to it.
         “Oh my god I’m SO sorry!” a voice screams from far away. I hear pounding footsteps on the sand as my eyes are screwed shut and I try to come back to reality. I finally open my eyes once the person gets to me, and try to find focus on his shape. It’s definitely a guy…and one that looks to be relatively young. Once my eyes focus on him I can instantly point out his hazel eyes and short cropped brown hair. My breath catches in my throat.
         “Umm hi. N-no It’s fine totally my fault.” I’m disoriented now and fumbling for words, his sculpted face sending me back into the chaos I had just corrected myself from. One of his hands are on my shoulder as he leans into me to check and see if I’m alright. I can feel him here, even with my eyes closed.
         “Can you stand up?” His voice is so loud and the pounding of my head doesn’t stop as I take his hand to support me. I stand up too fast and wobble, him catching me within his arms.
         “Woah, it’s all right. Wow, I really got you there, huh?”
         You have no idea I wanted to say.
         “I’m ok.” I can finally stand on my own. He smiles up at me.
         I see a girl starting to run towards us from behind the boy.
         “I’m so sorry, I should’ve caught that!” Envy runs through me for just a second until she comes closer into view and I can see the braces and small girlish features. She can’t be more than fourteen.
         I grimace at her, but seem to pass it off as a smile. “It’s ok,” I say, rubbing my head, “only hurt a little.” She smiles shyly up at me.
         “I’m Brianna.” She holds out her hand as if to shake mine, catching me off guard for what seems like the thousandth time today.
         “Hi, I’m Violet.” I shake her hand. I aim my attention to the new boy, with the soccer ball that probably gave me a slight concussion, in his hands.
         “Mason.” He nods his head and smiles. I smile lightly back.
         “We’d better get back to it.” He says, holding up the ball in his hands. I smile fakely at him, sad to see him go but nodding and pulling the sleeves down past my fingertips, the cold relentless now.
         They both walk away, leaving me there, but I don’t move. I stand there, staring, not sure what for, but I will myself to move. I can’t. And then I know why. The boy looks back and smiles, making my heart melt. His dimples are so deep, and the small blond in his hair are highlighted by the rising sun. My breath catches, my heart speeding up inside my body, and I start to lose myself. This is a whole new kind of drug, one I’ve never experienced, and I love it. The familiar sense washes over me as I become high on this feeling. I don’t know what to call it, or how to put it but it’s just a sensation. The sensation of meeting a boy, I guess, but I’m not really sure. Yes, I’ve had a multitude of boyfriends but I’ve never felt anything like this before.
         The two start kicking the ball back and forth and the rhythmic pounding over the ball against feet suffocates my mind and I numbly head back up the path back to the house. Do I call it my house now?
         
         Sunday afternoon I’m in my room, my windows open again listening to the waves crashing and people screaming. I’ve noticed how many young kids are on the beach, and I remember my aunt telling me that there are a lot of babies, so therefore crying and screaming, but I don’t mind. I’d rather have that than the deafening silence that I had when I lived at home in the woods. My old home, this is my new home. I asked Lola that when I walked in this morning and she smiled at me and put her hands on the counter, leaning on them for support.
         “Of course, this is your new home sweetie, if you want to look at it that way. But I’m not here to be your new mom, no one could replace that job ever. My sister did a wonderful job raising you and I couldn’t ask for a better niece.” I sat on the stool opposite the counter and smiled. I believed what she said, and thanked her with a smile on my face.
         I jump off my bed and walk into the bathroom adjoining me and my sisters room. The “guest room” as Lola put it before. I open the door slightly and quietly. The shades are drawn and the only light in the room comes from the little sliver escaping from the bathroom door, and the digital clock, the red numbers saying two o’clock. The boxes are spread all over the room, clearly untouched since we put them down. Laying in the bed, her back turned to me is the unidentified object known as my sister. I sigh and close the door, not wanting to see any more of it. She hasn’t said a single word to me the entire time we’ve been here, other than “thanks” when I carried everything of hers up, which wasn’t that much, but still.
I jump in the shower, the steam now filling up the bathroom as the water cascades down. The pressure is too much though and the water pelts at me, burning my skin. My mind races as I jump out, slipping on the water and accidentally falling out of the tub. My side is aching as I’m lying on the tiled floor, naked and dripping wet. The water starts to pool around me as I lay there, feeling pain. It’s been a while since I’ve actually felt physical pain, lately it’s just been mentally, that is when I’m not getting myself heavily drugged. I haven’t taken anything in a few hours now.
         After a few minutes of the throbbing pain I drag myself off the floor and walk, again naked and wet, into my room, scanning for the bottles. Some are clustered on the bedside table, but most are empty now on the floor. I fall to my knees and search through the empty bottles first, looking for stray pills I may have missed; Nothing. Looking up at the bedside table I see an abundance of bottles, but the pills will dwindle soon and just the thought almost brings me into a panic attack. I don’t have a doctor out here, and when I do get one it won’t be like the same situation I had at home, where the doctor didn’t care and gave me anything I wanted. Tears start to build up, my whole face burning up from the upcoming mental breakdown I’m about to have. I put my face down, tears now dripping out as I grab for a random bottle and try to control my breathing. I don’t care what it is anymore, I just need to take something. I scramble to open a bottle, barely reading the big black letters on the label. Taking three and dropping them into my mouth, I swallow them dry. They go down hard, to the point where I have to swallow a few more times, but it eventually goes down. I collapse and lie on the floor, my whole body almost dry now from the long time I’ve been out. My hair is still soaking wet and sticking to the back of my neck and around my face.
         After a bit, my heart rate slows and the sluggish movements start. It gives me joy, knowing that I have something in my life to make me feel this way. Humans are flakey people, in your life one minute and then out the next. Honestly, the whole concept of humanity sucks. Yes, there are the few that give and give and give happiness to others, but in reality, and as a whole, the human race is a disgrace to nature. Selfish, greedy, ugly people walk this earth and are looked right past because we don’t know better. There is no way that someone can be there for you one hundred percent of the time, and that is the reason why I stick to my drugs. Well, I wouldn’t say drugs, because they aren’t really, they’re just a bunch of pain and depression and anxiety medication all wrapped up in one. My medicine, my light in a dark alley, the Romeo to my Juliet.
         I laugh giddily to myself now, feeling the pain wash away quickly, leaving me with the numb feeling I’ve invested my time into.