I can’t take it. All of those memories come rushing back like a hurricane. I see her white ghostly face. I see my mother’s limp body next to the bottle. Again and again I see my mother’s lifeless body. Why can’t I stop seeing her dead?

Oh God, here it comes…the whole nightmare happening all over again. There I am again coming home from school with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I call to my mom, but no one answers. I search the downstairs, but no one is there. Then I walk up the stairs and call to her again, but again no one answers. Finally I walk in her room, but I don’t find her. No, there I find my mother’s body on her bed dead. I run to her screaming mom over and over again. Then I check her pulse, but the second I touch her I know she isn’t alive. My once warm comforting mother is now a chilling cold that is unreal.

Now my thoughts intrude my memory. No no no no not those thoughts, but again thoughts I don’t want to think come flooding back. If she was so unhappy why did she act so put together? Why didn’t she write a suicide note? Why didn’t she even say some goodbye? Why was that morning like any other morning? Why did she leave? Why did she leave me here alone with dad? Why did she leave me here with no one to talk to? Why was she so selfless her whole life, but so selfish in death? Why is she gone? I can’t take it anymore.

I go rushing to my dresser. There it is under my pajamas…my shiny lifesaving needle. I grab it and pull up my pants. I tie the cord around my thigh and inject the heroin. There it is rushing toward me again. The dull numbing feeling that barricades the thoughts of her come to me again. My whole body feels relaxed well actually it feels nothing, but as long as I can’t remember it is fine. I silently drift asleep with no dreams or nightmares. No joy and no fear. No light or dark, just emptiness.