When I'm Gone (16 page)

Epilogue-September 11, 2002 (Claire)

It had already been a year since the terrorist attacks. There were rescuers still finding bodies amongst all of the rubble on Ground Zero. Sometimes I wondered if the death toll would ever end.
“Oh, Michael,” I murmured, running a hand over a large painting on my bedroom wall. The canvas was rough to the touch, but the layers of paint splattered on it, gave it a bubbly effect. I traced the outline of the
the
man’s lips and sighed softly. The corners of his mouth were hitched up in a shy smile; his green eyes lit up with happiness. It felt like I could just reach out and run my hand through the black hair piled on the top of his head.
I coughed and left my hand drop to my side. I walked away and into the living room where another large canvas sat upon the wall above the television.
The Twin Towers stood side by side, looking proud and tall. Then, when your gaze reached the top, red and yellow flames jumped into the skies; smoke billowed out of two large gaping holes. The words, ‘We Will Never Forget’ were
enscribed
on the bottom of the drawing.
I smiled sadly and reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. As I did so, a
lond
white stripe of skin caught my attention. I pulled my wrist back to eye level and studied the scar that wrapped around the inside of my wrist. I frowned slightly and ran a finger over it, wincing at the painful memories it brought back.
I pulled up my loose black tee and placed my wrist against the rough skin of stomach comparing the two. The scars covering my stomach matched the one on my wrist almost exactly. It could have been done by the same person.
With the same knife.
Through bleary eyes, I could see his silhouette
aginst
the bright light that intruded my bedroom. I squinted and could make out a sharp object gripped in his right hand. I gasped and my heart starting pounding against my rib cage, wanting to burst out of my chest.
“What are you going to do to me?” I whispered in a shaking voice. He laughed mockingly and pressed the knife against my skin. I whimpered lowly and he pulled the blade away.
“Something that will teach you to never yell at me again,” he warned in a low voice.
He snatched my wrists and tied them together with a piece of rope that he produced from his pocket. Then, he climbed on top of me, straddling me so that I couldn’t kick my way out.
Grunting, he ripped my tank top off my body, leaving me in only a bra. I flushed at the exposure. He ran a callused hand over my skin, making me shudder involuntarily.
“Please don’t,” I managed. His gaze flickered to me and then back to the skin on my stomach. He tightened his grip on the knife and leaned over my body.
Suddenly, pain erupted on my stomach and I arched my back. He slapped the back of his hand across my cheek and I winced at the stinging sensation. He pressed his free hand onto my chest, trapping me from rearing back.
He then made another line down my stomach with the blade of the knife. I cried out in terror and squeezed my eyes shut.
“
Priss
,” he muttered under his breath, making another line
.
“
Brat.”
Another stroke.
“You are completely worthless.” With every insult he spat at me, he made another line across my stomach. I could feel the warm blood pooling underneath me. I whimpered again and tried to pull away.
“Stop it,” he screamed into my ear. I froze and he stared at me long and hard. Finally, he went back to cutting my skin; deep enough for me to bleed, but not deep enough for me to die. I bit my lip, waiting for it to be over.
When he finally left an hour later, I jumped out of bed, stumbling to the ground as I did so. On my knees, I crawled towards the bathroom looking for something-anything-to stop the bleeding.
On the counter top I saw a towel and I reached up to grab it. At first, I slipped and fell inches short of reaching it. Eventually, I was able to knock it off the counter and onto the floor. I snatched it, pressing it against my stomach.
It stopped the bleeding, but it definitely didn’t stop the pain.
I could feel myself slipping in and out of
conciousness
as I feel back onto the tile floor. My cheek hit the cold tile and I shuddered violently. Right before I slipped into a deep sleep, I noticed that the lines spelt out a word.
‘UGLY’
.
“Claire,” someone called out from behind me. I turned, pulling my tee back down over my puckered skin, and saw Alex waiting by the hallway. He gave me the once over and smiled softly. I sighed and he nodded as if he understood.
He was wearing a pair of khakis with a dark brown polo. He had on his nicest shoes and his dark hair had been recently washed; it looked damp to the touch. I tugged on the hem of my black tee, making sure it fit perfectly over my dark-wash jeans. I brushed my fingers over the bright red scarf which hung loosely from my neck.
“You look fine,” Alex promised. I nodded slightly and walked over to him. He hooked his arm through mine and we walked out the door.
“Is Hope still coming?” I wondered aloud as we stomped down the stairs to the lobby. Alex shook his head and smiled at my confused expression
.
“I told her that today was going to be family day. She understood,” he replied smoothly. We entered the lobby and were about to go out the front door when I caught the eye of a familiar woman.
“Claire,” Mrs. Trinity greeted. I smiled at her and she walked out of her little office. “How are you?”
“Taking it one day at a time,” I admitted as she hobbled towards me. She stopped right in front of me and took my hand in hers. I could feel the bones in her fingers as she rubbed them over my scar on my wrist
.
“Me too,
deary
,” she replied.
“Me too.”
“
Well, I have to get going,” I said and took my hand away. “We are going to dinner and then to an art
musuem
.”
“Okay, Claire,” she laughed. “Have fun and say hello to Michael for me, the next time you go
and see him.”
I blinked back tears and forced a smile at her.
“I will,” I promised and waved. She nodded and I went out the door, finding Alex waiting with a cab at his side. He gestured for me to get in and I did, smiling gently.
“How is Mrs. Trinity?” he asked. I swallowed loudly and looked over at him through bleary eyes
.
“She is doing great,” I lied through clenched teeth. Alex took my hand and I weaved my fingers through his. He squeezed my hand and smiled at me.
“How are you?” He stared at me, waiting for an answer. I frowned and bit my lip.
“Not so good right now,” I confessed. Alex nodded looking relieved and I sighed. “It’s just so hard, you know? I mean, it has been a year, but a long year at that. I barely made it through the first school year. God, I barely made it through the first day of school this year.”
“It must be really hard for you,” Alex stated. My bottom lip trembled as a tear slipped out of the corner of my eye and down my cheek.
“It is,” I murmured through my tears. Alex sat up straighter and let go of my hand. I looked up at him and saw that he was glaring back down at me. “What?”
“For one,” he said, “I want you to stop crying. We aren’t going to do that tonight. Second, I want tonight to be one of the most fun-filled nights you have had in a year, okay? And third, I want you to throw out all thoughts of Michael right now. You won’t be able to have fun if you keep thinking about him.”
“I can try,” I whispered. Alex relaxed a little.
“Good,” he stated and looked out the window. I did the same and just ahead, I could see the small yellow building. The same one I had been going to every week so far in order to remember him. I could faintly
smeel
syrup and waffles.
“Here it goes,” I muttered to myself as Alex opened the taxi door. I started to slide out after him and as I did, I heard my favorite song come on the radio
.
“And when I’m gone, just carry on. Don’t mourn; rejoice every time you hear the sound of my voice. Just know that
everytime
I’m
lookin
’ down on you
smilin
’ and didn’t feel a thing. So, baby, don’t feel my pain. Just smile back.”

The End

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