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You're awoken from your nostalgic, pastel dreams by earth shattering blasts and begin trembling with fear.
BANG!
BOOM!
POP! POP! POP!
The abrupt, thunderous symphony makes you almost jump out of bed. Why was there so much noise? Where was it coming from? Why was it so loud?
A shrilling hiss calls out from all around and crescendos into a deafening explosion. Dazzling red and blue lights flash through your closed blinds; they remind you of an ambulance. You hate that. It fills you with dread and sadness. You begin to breathe rapidly and a pit forms in your stomach. Why was this happening?
A screeching whistle segues into an ear-splitting crack, sending shock waves through your whole body. It reminds you of yelling. You suddenly feel very angry. It isn’t able to rival the fear, though. You begin to beat the side of your bed in frustration-you just want the noise-the emotional intensity-to stop. Your ears are ringing and your head is pounding. Your heart is thumping so fast it feels like it might burst. It feels like the walls of your room are closing in. It feels like Something is staring at you. You’re in danger. You’re going to die. It’s hard to breathe and your eyes dart around the encroaching darkness-expecting Something, anything to suddenly jump out at you. Through your panicked haze, your paranoid eyes land on your calendar-its marked July 4th.
Right. It was Independence Day. You feel like you used to have fond memories of this day, as unbelievable as that might seem right now. It seems like so long ago you were surrounded by friends and family in Faraway Park. A cheeseburger and grape soda in your hands as you stood in awe at the fireworks display, laughter and cheers accenting the admittedly uncomfortable bangs. You hated the noise then, too. But there was something to comfort you, unlike now.
You feel annoyed that everyone is enjoying the holiday while you rot away. You feel very annoyed that they're interrupting your sleep with incessant, overgrown bottle rockets. Then again, you don't deserve enjoyment.
Another boom shakes you to your core. You bury yourself under your pillows and blankets to escape what feels like the Apocalypse. You’re reminded of what little you know of the bible-The Book Of Revelations, specifically. Reading esoteric literature used to be one of your interests (you did have those at some point) but, you never really cared to ponder too deeply about the metaphysical truths of the universe. Despite that, you are certainly feeling the Fear of God right now. The End Of The World. The Final Judgement. You are going to burn in Hell for eternity and deserve it.
HIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
KA-BOOOOOOOOM!
POP!POP!POP!
You feel AFRAID. You feel FURIOUS. You feel MISERABLE. You just want it to end. You cover your ears with your hands and try to fill your mind with any respite. You’ve always been good at daydreaming (it's the only thing you are good at). You drift away into a memory. Last year’s Fourth Of July. While the adults were engrossed in their monotonous conversations, you and your friends had slipped away to your secret hideout. Your Mom never let you play with the sparklers, always chiding that you’d hurt yourself, but Kel had secured some for himself and you to play with. Mari was reluctant at first, but saw how much you wanted to experience it-and so, cautiously lit it up for you. Your hand felt hot and you were a little scared, but you were also transfixed by the sparking stick in your hand. You felt like a bit of a rebel for disobeying your Mom. It was pretty cool.
Always the most perceptive, you took in the sight around you: Kel was wildly waving around two sparklers in each hand, much to the scolding of Hero. Mari was chatting with Aubrey and Basil who were enjoying the rest of their dinner-a burger and a vegetable kebab respectively. Their smiles might’ve seemed a bit excessive for such generic food, but your Dad’s grilling was legendary. You were just happy to be here. Very happy. You let a ghost of a smile spread on your face. Better not let Basil see or he might just catch you off-guard with his camera.
Suddenly, a particularly loud firework startled you and you fumbled with your sparkler, dropping it into the grass and burning the top of your hand in the process. You let out a yelp and Mari immediately rushed to your side. She quickly checked for any wounds, but you were fine. A sudden touch from a sparkler wasn’t going to leave you with third degree burns, but it still hurt nonetheless. Another firework made you jump and Mari wrapped her arms around you, enrapturing you in her comforting bliss. Your face flushed red with shame as the others' faces twisted to concern. It was stupid. It was just some fireworks-why did you have to be such a scaredy cat? It was just a quick nick from a sparkler-why did you have to be so sensitive? Mari, ever the savior, dismissed the others worries and they steadily went back to their occupations. You were so thankful for that. You hated being pitied. You hated being a burden even more.
“It’s okay, Sunny. I’m right here, nothing’s going to hurt you. It’s not as scary as you think.”
You could've sworn a halo hovered above her head as her words offered such sweet solace. Her warmth melted away all your discomforts, so much so that it seemed like they never even really existed in the first place. You didn’t want that moment to ever end. Tragically, it did. The dream faded and all the comfort it brought departed as well, leaving you a shaking, sweating mess as all the emotions of reality continued to whirl around inside you and more powerful booms vibrated through your room. Where were your friends? Where was Mari? Why wasn’t she here? Where was she?
Oh, right. She’s at college. Couldn’t make it home today.
No...that wasn’t right.
A deeper pit forms in your stomach.
It feels like your heart might jump out of your throat.
Oh.
Oh.
SHE’S DEAD.
SHE KILLED HERSELF.
That’s not right either.
Something breaks.
A dawning realization is once again uncovered.
Your breathing somehow becomes more rapid and heavy than it was before. You begin to feel lightheaded and numb from the heaving.
It...was an accident.
No, it wasn’t.
God, the stairs. The yelling. All those thuds.
You feel like vomiting.
You feel like screaming.
YOU KILLED HER.
SHE’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU.
Nononononononononononononoonononono that CAN’T be right
You can’t hold it in any longer. The emotions are too much. They’re drowning you. You begin thrashing around in your bed and shrieking in a cacophony of emotions. Fear. Dread. Anger. Guilt. Confusion. Hate. Desperation.
A figure bursts through your door and that only accentuates your meltdown. The figure wraps their arms around you, despite your kicking and screaming. You feel like you're about to die. You feel like you deserve it. You want it to happen. But, it doesn’t. The figure gently strokes you, whispering consoling hushes.
“It’s okay, Sunny. I’m right here, by your side. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I love you. Mommy loves you, baby. I won’t let anything hurt you. It’s just some fireworks, it'll be over soon.”
You want to keep fighting but, frankly, you’re exhausted. You don’t have the will to move anymore. Everything hurts. You look up at the figure-It’s your mother. She looks just as exhausted as you, with disheveled hair and eyes lined with tears and dark bags. The noises from outside die down, the only remaining objections to silence are your Mom’s reassurances and your sobbing. You two stay like that for some time, just desperately clinging to each other. There isn’t a force strong enough in this world to separate you.
“Sunny…” Your mother breaks the long silence with shaky breaths. “I...I made your favorite for dinner-steak! I did it on the grill, too. Although, I’m not as great as...him. I tried my best!” She gives you a weak smile. “Will you please have some?”
You slowly nod. You have already repressed your realization.
You and Mom eat dinner in the living room, the T.V filling in for the absence of conversation. It’s...nice. As nice as it can be for a broken family in a broken home. Mom’s just glad you’re out of your room and eating.
“Hey, Sunny. I know you don’t like fireworks, but I bought some sparklers. I know I used to be pretty strict about them, but you’re older now! So, do you wanna light them up together?”
You shake your head.
“Oh, alright! That’s ok!” She looks disappointed.
You want to tell her you love her. But, your throat is so sore and strained all that comes out is a scratchy, incoherent mumble that quickly becomes painful coughing. She helps you drink some water. It only alleviates you so much. Since you can’t speak, you simply hug her and hope she understands what you want to say. She seems to get it and holds you close, rubbing your back and telling you she loves you. The comfort is familiar, though you're not sure as to why. You want to apologize to Mom about Something, though you’re not sure as to what. It feels wrong that she's comforting you, but you don't really care right now. Despite the confusion and the misery, all you two can do is live as intently as you can in this moment. And you do. For a brief instance in time, your suffering ceases and you feel at peace. You hope she feels the same.
She does.