Vicious Circle

      Her delicate hands clasped around the cold metal. She stared at it, long and hard. Her soft brown eyes gazed at it, weighing it in her mind. Would she press the metal against her temple and pull it, allowing her blood, brain, and bone fragments to splatter in her room? Or would she give it up and keep living a lie, keep walking like an empty shell? She still had no idea. She inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly. She pulled the gun up to her face, slowly moving it till the barrel pressed against her temple. She raised her eyes to the ceiling; silently asking for God to forgive her, for her mistake would probably cause her eternal damnation. Tears rolled down her face as she closed her eyes tightly, pulling back her index finger to pull the trigger. It all went in slow motion. A flash of memory ran past her; her best friend trying to help. She heard the bullet coming out of the barrel. Another flash of memory, her love lying to her. Tearing through her flesh. A final flash of memory, or not one at all, a beautiful child that would have been hers. Then the bullet crashed into her skull and finally through her brain. The gun fell from her grasp and she met the floor. Her blood flowing, eyes shut softly, a small smile almost on her lips.

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        Everyone sat almost silently in the church, her body looking angelic, as if she would open her eyes and say, “Surprise! I fooled you didn't I?” But they knew she wouldn't. I knew. She was gone way before she was dead. Her bright uplifting smile, gone, her happy go lucky mood, disappeared, her child like nature, was no more, she was gone. They had to accept that she would never enter a room and brighten it. Most of all, I had to accept that my best friend was lying in a casket, and I was here to watch how everyone looked shocked. All heads were low, in respect for this girl that had touched their lives in some way, and their paths touched hers even for a moment.

                                               
        Rumors spread like wildfire about Cassie. Her life taken from her own hands, who'd thunk it. The most adoringly happy person disappeared in a flash. I didn't. Cassie was my best friend. We acted like twins, thinking alike, same body language, and everything. My name is Rachel Andders, and Cassie Buchelie was my best friend, the girl who we all waited to “fool” us with her death trick. Was being the operative word. She abandoned me to the sharks of the world. But it wasn't all her fault. It was mine too. I saw her fading. I saw her eyes losing their sparkle, their luminous life. She was my best friend and I let her die slowly, on the inside. But she, she killed herself.

        Her metaphoric life was taken. Her reason for being, stolen; plucked from life. Her supposed “love of her life” was stolen in the night. I remember that night clearly. I remember her joy, it spread like wildfire, much like the rumors that go around now. Jacob, her long time boyfriend proposed to her, in the middle of senior year. I didn't speak like others, telling her she was much too young; as I said she and I are way too much alike; I fully supported her in this. Jacob Vemliea, was to take Cassie's hand in two years, so that Cassie would be referred to as Cassie Vemliea. But does anything go as planned? Not in God's hands anyways. A God I used to put all my faith into. He allowed my best friend to be taken away from me. She was wild, but reliable, my rock. And she was taken away. How was I expected to cope with this? All I feel like doing is screaming my lungs out to a God that failed her, that failed me. I feel disgusting with guilt. My mind doesn't stop racing on the thoughts anymore. I'm half tempted to take same path as her. It is only fair. It's only justice, right? Or was I losing it like Cassie did? If I was, was anyone noticing? Or would they be oblivious like I was? Would I be saved from myself and this gnawing guilt? Why is it that I get the feeling that this would all be one vicious circle? I guess I should get to the point of why Cassie took her own life.

        The most adorable couple; Cassie and Jacob, together for about a year and a half. The full second year would have been within the next four months, if Cassie hadn't committed suicide. She had found out that she was pregnant. Yeah, you heard correctly pregnant. She was ecstatic; this was the happiest moment of her life, second to meeting Jacob. She told Jacob. Jacob didn't react the way she had expected. He reacted far worse than what anyone could have expected. Cassie came to my house that night, because Jacob beat her and called her a whore. Telling her that, that child wasn't his. He had told her so much that she started believing it. Has that ever happened to you, you've been told something so many times that you slowly start to believe it yourself? Well it did to her. She was on my doorstep crying and bloodied, sobbing how she cheated on Jacob and how he found out, but that she still loved him. He was lying to her, making her feel horrible and almost hating a child that was to be theirs.

        I caused a rift between us that night. I left her at my house and went right over to his house. Now you'd think I'm an idiot for yelling at a guy who is 5'9 and 168 pounds, when I'm only 5'0 and 96 pounds. He'd beat me to death for sure. Right? Wrong. I may be short, but I have an even shorter temper. I screamed at him, calling him a liar, man-whore, womanizer, etc. Hell, I even slapped the boy. But he didn't flinch. Not one bit. He was smiling, the bastard. Now what kind of man smiles when a girl is cursing him out and slapping him? He grabbed my hand before I could slap him one final time and told me that Cassie wasn't pregnant anymore. The operative word being “anymore”. I can assure you all the rage left my body. I ran, I ran to my best friend who had just lost an important life, a life living inside of her.

        I found her when I got to my house; Cassie was curled up in the bathroom. I was actually very grateful that my parents were always out of the house on business now. She was staring at the toilet and kept muttering. I knelt down in front of her to hear what she was muttering and all it was, was “It's gone.” Her eyes were horrified and filled with tears. She finally took notice to the blood on my knuckles and questioned me. I told her it was Jacob's blood and her eyes narrowed. She was mad at me for hitting the man she loved. I tried to explain to her that he was the reason she lost the kid, but she didn't believe me. She kept telling me he only hit her because she slept with another man and got pregnant when they were meant to be married. From that moment on, she didn't talk to me. And, I, frankly, didn't want to talk to her until she realized that Jacob was now horrible for her.

        I watched her eyes lose their luster, her body lose it's weight, her smile disappear, and finally her happy personality deteriorate. It was painful to say the least, but I couldn't swallow my pride. I couldn't help her when she needed it most. So I let her pull the trigger... no wait I didn't let her. I pulled the trigger. I keep going around with these what ifs and yet, I can't stop. I know I should. It's not healthy for me to do this.

        So here I am, two years after Cassie was buried and I'm lost. I've kept my eyes skyward since her death. I keep looking to God, wondering, what was His reason. But I haven't gotten an answer. I haven't gotten any answer, nor hint. I still thought of what ifs, but I've taught myself to ignore them. My faith was destroyed that night. From the ashes of it though, there's always a maybe. I'm living my life in a question; “Was God actually there? If He was, would he at least help me in some way find myself? Or at least help me coop with Cassie's death?”


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