I woke up on a strange bed; I was awake before anyone else was. After rubbing my eyes, I realized I was in my old room at my grandmothers. I quickly got up, smashing open my room’s door, seeing my grandpa and grandmother sitting at the kitchen table, the air smelling of bitter coffee. I ran up to my grandpa and hugged him tightly, yelling his name. I did the same to my grandmother. I was happy to see them. After a bowl of cereal and an exchange of hugs, my grandpa grabbed me, lifting me up onto his shoulder and carrying me into his room. I laughed as I was set down.
His room was a very small room filled with a ton of old nick knacks and junk. I eyed his gold watch on the desk and, out of curiosity, I grabbed it and opened it. It had a photo of my grandpa in it and a train sketched into the corner of the photo. I then handed it to him after he motioned his hand for me to hand it over.
“Your great grandpa gave me this,” he said. After a pause, he placed it into my pocket and said, “If you take good care of it, you can keep it.” I nodded, smiling and without a word slowly left the room.
I then went outside and was greeted by another close friend of mine, my childhood dog, Rasko Peko Train. He was a German Shepherd with black and white fur, like a sheep dog. He had a red collar with a golden dog tag on it. His tail wagged happily, as we greeted each other. I started a conversation and he listened, as a good friend should. After that, he followed me into the barn as I began to chase the chickens and roosters, trying to catch them for fun and kicks. I even went to play with my cousins who were lucky enough to live down there. They showed me all the secret hideouts around my grandma’s house. I amazed them by squeezing through a small dog door because I could dislocate my shoulder as I ran from them in a few games of tag. When it got dark, a few older relatives and I played manhunt. This was hide and seek in the dark. I was smart enough to hide in plain site, deep in the shadows. I was always fond of the dark; I felt at ease when I was unseen. I then went back into the house to sleep, just to repeat this process until it was time for our annual feast, an early Thanksgiving Dinner.

I woke up again, facing my alarm clock as I dropped the collar from my hand. I was breathing heavily again and sighed. It was three a.m. I had only gotten a few hours of sleep. My face burned from the dried tears from earlier as I scratched at my face to wipe the feeling away. I bled slightly from the scratches, wincing from the site of my blood. It did not bother me too much; I was used to physical pain. It was the mental pain that bothered me. I looked down at the collar and watch I had dropped in my sleep, grabbing them both and holding them tight. I opened the watch to find a picture of my grandpa. It was old and looked like coffee had stained it yellow. I then noticed blood trailing from one of my scratches and going down my nose. A single drop fell onto the photo, directly where the train used to be in the corner of it. With a saddened sigh, I closed the small pocket watch and placed it in my pocket. Attempting to go to sleep one more time. I had no need to cry, for the blood of my wounds would suffice as my burning tears and pain. I slowly went back to my dreams again.

Today was the day we had our feast. I woke up early for a quick breakfast to go out and play, because I knew that today was also the last day I was going to be here for a long time. I went out, gathered grass for the goats and cows to eat, and petted them, their fur soft to the touch. I then decided to go hunt for whatever creature that I had not already captured. After I caught a fair share of reptiles and caught bugs to feed them, I was called inside for dinner. They set me down a plate of turkey, mashed yams, and stuffing. I took a bite of turkey. It was dry so I covered it in gravy. I slowly devoured my meal. Then I got a slice of pumpkin pie, my favorite dessert. My mind went into a small daydream, focused on a single thought at the time as I sat there. “I never want to leave this place.” I thought to myself as I slid a peace of pie into my mouth. The next day seemed to end way too quickly, for it was the day I had to leave. I was very upset and sad. I began crying because I had to go. I quickly got into the car, upset, not wanting to say goodbye to anyone there as I crawled into the back seat, waiting to just go home. I watched my mom hug my grandparents goodbye and get into the car and look at me. She then surprised me by what she said.
“Why are you in here? I thought you wanted to stay here?” I didn’t reply I just looked at her funny. “If you want to, you can stay here another week if you promise to be good,” she continued. She didn’t have to ask me twice. I was out of the car, screaming happily at the top of my lungs, saying I get to stay longer! I hugged my mom goodbye and watched her leave as I ran out back to continue playing. I continued to stay there for a week… then some more weeks…. fallowed by another week. I began to realize my grandparents were sad and gave me a strange look often. I felt uneasy, but I continued playing.
About two weeks after my mom left, my grandparents read a small book to me. It was a short book that talked about death in a happy tone. I didn’t understand it and only shrugged it off. Eventually a strange man picked me up and took me to my old house. I didn’t recognize many people. The man who picked me up then said, “Go say goodbye to your friends.” I got out of the car and asked my step dad, “where’s mom?”
He coldly replied, “We already told you, she has passed away.” He paused and then bluntly said, “She’s dead.” I still didn’t understand it, but I began to cry, repeating out loud, “mom is dead.” People tried to comfort me, but it didn’t help. I did not know what it meant, but I felt that I knew I would never see her again. I was put back into the car of the strange man, as we drove off, everyone else followed. Though I didn’t know where we were going, I knew I would never return.
I slowly opened my eyes just to check the time, it was six a.m., almost time to wake up and prepare. My body felt cold and my heart felt heavy. Was I even prepared for today? I slowly lifted myself up; it felt like a thousand needles pierced my arm because I fell asleep on it. The shock of it caused me to lie back down. After staring at the ceiling as my arm slowly healed itself from the sudden rush of blood flowing into it, I rubbed my face, finding a few particles of dried blood at the tips of my fingers. I closed my eyes angrily and drifted off to sleep one last time.

We arrived at a small funeral home. Everyone went inside, but I was told to wait outside, as well as many other younger kids. I played with a few of the kids, no longer thinking of what was going on or what had happened. I then watched my other grandmother get pulled out of the building by two large men. My grandmother was shouting, “Let me go that’s my baby in there!”
I ran up to her, not knowing what was going on, and began to hit one of the tall men. “Leave my grandma alone,” I shouted before my grandmother grabbed me and hugged me. She was crying, but she sat me down, got into her car, and drove off without a word. I cried slightly as I returned to playing with the kids. I never went inside the building, but I was able to watch them bury my mother. Everyone placed a rose on her grave, except me. I kept the rose, though I’m unsure why. I was then put into the strange mans car once again and we began to drive, though no one followed us this time. “Where am I going?” I asked.
“Home” he replied.
I was confused and said, “But we just left my home.”
With somewhat of a growl he replied. “That’s not your home anymore.”
I kept quiet after that. The trip seemed to take ages. I wasn’t even allowed to grab any of my toys. I began to cry, realizing I had left my watch behind at my old house. The tears were ignored and I was given no comfort besides the bitter taste of my own salty tears. After a while, I gave up on crying and just sadly looked out the back window, knowing everything was going to be left behind me, out of sight but still stuck in my mind. I also began to recognize this man. He was my dad. Once we arrived at the new home, it was a small abandoned building with only one floor in the middle of some abandoned factories. I entered the house slowly and was pointed to a room and then locked inside it.
“Where do I sleep?” I asked, getting no reply. I slowly sat down, lying on the dirty carpeted floor. I just laid there like a discarded doll without purpose. I felt hollow and cold but eventually I fell asleep.

My Alarm clock finally rang and I smashed down on the button angrily to stop the alarm. It was nine a.m. and I had barely gotten any sleep due to the haunting nightmares known as memories. I slowly got up, looking at items from memories scattered on the ground. I shook my head and gathered up some clothing. I walked into the bathroom and showered, drying off and then jelling my hair back so I would look nice as I combed my hair and put on a suit. Shortly after, my dad and stepmother did the same, preparing themselves for the funeral. I had an uneasy feeling as we got into the car. I hopped into the back of his truck and we took off.

As we arrived the funeral home, an hour late, I witnessed a lot of family crowding the door, preparing to greet me and my dad. People hugged me and my dad, saying, “Sorry for your loss.” I walked past friends, relatives, and other family who I hadn’t seen in a long time and headed strait for the casket to look at the corpse of my grandfather. I stared at him blankly and emotionlessly. I then looked around, watching others who were crying, before looking back at him. To think I had only spoken to him just a week before his passing on March 25th.
I took out my pocket watch and placed it into the casket when no one was looking and whispered. “I didn’t take good care of it like you asked. So I don’t deserve to keep it.” I then slowly walked away, being grabbed and hugged by other family who needed comfort. As I slowly headed out the door, I got into the truck and waited there until we left. My father was crying and he didn’t ask why I didn’t stay; we just went home. It was a dark cold day. April had only just begun and yet for me it felt as though it had ended.
We arrived at home just as my dad got a call from my councilor. She told him about my thoughts of suicide and my dad confronted me about it.
“You shouldn’t be telling them stuff like that or you will end up in a crazy bin like your uncle.”
I didn’t reply. He never took me seriously when it came to suicide. I slowly closed my bedroom door emotionlessly and grabbed a bottle of my anti depressants and a bottle of water. I thought to myself, “I am not going to be with my family if they don’t care about me. I’m going to visit my family who once did care, in the after life.” I began taking the anti depressants, one by one, until the bottle was empty. I lay down, feeling funny and tired. I felt a numbness take over me as I closed my eyes. My father entered my room, grabbing onto my body, yelling for my step mom to call the ambulance, as I went to sleep… one last time…