Birthday

I hoist myself onto the guardrail, sitting on its cold, rough edge. The night wind whispers in my ears as my eyes drift to the river. 

It whispers, "You should have been down there."

A flash of her sweet smile crosses my mind. How could I have let this happen? Her confused, scared face flashes in my mind. Maybe if I was more careful... 

I bang my fist on the ledge. I feel the rough rocks pierce my skin, the red, hot pain streams down my knuckles. The ache swells and throbs. It hurts. Good. It should hurt. It feels right. Red streams down to my elbow as I reach for my necklace. Gripping the cool silver heart-shaped locket in my fist, I closed my eyes and willed my mind to replay the scenes like a movie. 

The moment my rage turned to pain. The moment my tears blurred my view. The moment when I lost control. The moment when I realised she was in the car. When we spiralled off the bridge. When I lunged towards her, throwing my arms as far as I could. But it wasn't enough. She was too far away. Fear streaked her face as she floated further out of my reach. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to remember. 

The moment she realised this was it. The moment she slowly shut her eyes and floated down in her little pink PJs. How could I let it happen? How was it fair for me to be living, breathing, growing older when she'll now always be stuck at 9 years old?

I pull off the stupid birthday hat and fling it into the water. That's where it should be. That's where I should be. Drowned at the bottom of the river.

I stare up at the full moon.

I don't deserve this. Not a cake. Not a birthday. Not this life.

I remember her funeral. The priest saying the hollow, dramatic words, he recites for every funeral. He didn't even know her. I always wondered what made people want to be so poetic at funerals. I remember so many people telling me how sorry they were. But the words were always empty lies. They would never know what it felt like to lose her. What it felt like to watch her drown, knowing it was my fault.

I remember feeling mad. Mad at everyone and everything. Mad at myself for not being careful that day. Mad at god for giving us a loophole out of this life. Mad at the world for continuing at its usual pace once the condolences had been delivered. Mad at every photo of us, haunting me, telling me it was all my fault.

I force my eyes open. The dark navy sky glittering with stars. I let the cold air wrap around me as I stare down at the river. I watch the calm ripples bobbing in the wind. I nudge myself closer to the edge, my legs dangling below me.

I should be down there.

I should be down there.

I will my eyes to stay open as I nudge myself closer off the edge. 

This was it.

I could be with her again.

I replay her laughter in my head.

I sigh at the memory.

I shuffle to the edge until I can barely feel the guardrail under me.

I look up once more at the twinkling stars.

"See you soon, Tate."

I loosen my grip.

(A rendition of "Teach Me to Forget" by Erica M. Chapman)