The Broken Smile

It's not my fault, it's not my fault." I tell myself as I rock back and forth on the cold tiles of my bathroom floor. Tears begin to flow down my face like a sudden spring shower. 

Is any of this really sudden though? 

I turn up the force of my bath water, not because I need the tub to fill faster but because I need to hide behind the sound it makes. 

The last thing I need to do is have my husband hear me crying. If he asks me what's wrong... how could I tell him the truth? How can I tell him that I killed a girl? A girl the same age that our daughter is now- just because I found her weird?

A sob that was already forming in my chest decides to make its escape. It shoots up and out of my mouth before I have time to catch it.

I quickly put my hand to my mouth as if I can unrelease that sob, but as I already know, un-doing something is impossible. 

Im quite for a moment, listening for any sign that my husband heard me.

Nothing.

I'm so thankful for the loud sound of the bath water.

I step my foot into the water and let it's warmth wrap around my foot. It's so calming that I'm suddenly a little more at ease. The key word there is little. My mind begins to wonder if this is how SHE felt stepping into the tub knowing she wasn't going to step out again.

I turn the water off and let it take the rest of my body over. Hoping it could wash away these horrid feelings that are running rampet throughout my body.

I wish my mind had a mute button. This was it can spin round in circles and I wouldn't have to be accompanied to it.

"You have a good life," I tell myself. That's the part of me that actually wants me to feel better speaking. That voice doesn't come out all that often. "You have a wonderful husband, a beautiful daughter, you just settled for a couple thousand on that case you just won. How can extra spending money not make you smile?"

I sink down lower into the water so my ears are covered. Can outside forces silence inside voices?

I close my eyes, as if falling more into myself will get my mind off of what I did. It happened years ago, back when I was still just a teen. Now my daughter is fourteen, and now I'm more haunted than i've ever been.

I never told my husband about what I did. It's not the kind of stuff you tell a person you actually want to like you.

Will I tell him now?

I close my eyes tighter as if that will help. I grasp the sides of the tub as if that will in someway help me pul;l myself out of myself.

Is that what she wanted to do? Is that what you made her do?

"It's not my fault, It's not my fault." I tell myself again. As if saying it enough will make it true. As if I'm the only juror that matters in this moment. "It's not my fault, it's not my fault."

I say it twenty- heck, fifty times before I stop speaking and everything falls to silence.

That's when I see her. I see her clear as day. Esther.

She's walking down the crowded hallway alone, just as she always did. Yet, something about her seems so happy.

I start to feel anger swell up inside of me. What the heck does she have to be happy about? Has she seen herself? The poor girl couldn't be pretty if she tried!

Her nose almost resembles a pig snout. She is chunky in all the wrong places. Her boring light brown curls don't fall behind her ears. It's almost as if she shampooed it with krazy glue.

Her face is so round and cheecks so plump, and yet she wears a little red bow in her hair as if that will somehow change things for her.

It's halfway through the school year and she is still so unphased by the bad hand she was dealt in the looks department.

Her clothes are always expensive, brand named and new. Her family has money. A lot of it. Yet I'm still the queen of this school. The guys fall at MY feet, the other girls beg for my friendship. Does she think she can be better than me?

As she walks past me I insinctively push my pointer finger hard against my nose and snort real loud.

Suddenly everyone is laughing and patting me on the shoulder. That stupid smile on her face jumped off of hers and right onto mine.

It feels amazing.

As the days go by I get more creative.

"Hey, Esther!" I call to her one day while we are in class. She pretends not to hear me at first. "Hey, Esther!" I repeat and repeat until finally she turns around.

No Smile.

"I found some of your hair gel in my house. I thought you would like it back." I smile trying so hard to hold back my laughter as I hand her I thing of krazy glue.

When the other classmates laugh I can't help but laugh either. Just a few months ago school had been so boring. The lessons, the people. Everything. Esther most of all. But now a community has formed.

Me and the other classmates have some sort of unity we didn't have before. I start the joke and then someone adds on to it, and then another, and another. It's fun to be a part of something with other people. Joking with them, laughing with them. The only one not having fun is Esther, but that's a price we were all willing to pay. It would be selfish of her to expect us to stop having fun at our expense.

By the time summer came along I was almost disappointed. This school year had been perfect. I even got a few boyfriends out of the deal.

By the time the next school year came around I had more jokes in me and Esther had more things to make fun of. Sometimes that annoying smile of hers would still show up, but it didn't last long. I guess I would smile too if I had new clothes every week.

Except on me those clothes would actually look good.

I don't think my problem with Esther was ever anything truly personal. She just looked like the type that didn't know how to stay in her lane. I was just making sure that no accidents happened, no fatalities.

Except, there was a fatality. One.

Suddenly I'm no longer in my highschool building, but instead i'm in a small bathroom. My feet are cold and wet as the water from the soaked floor seeps into my shoes.

I feel around the wall for a light switch, where is all this water coming from? I feel the knob of something sticking out of the wall and push it up. The light flickers on.

I tremble as I see the deep red liquid all around floor. The curtian to the bath tub is drawn, it's like pink cover standing out in contrast to the deep red surrounding us both.

A lifeless hand is hanging out of the tub. I move quickly. Maybe she is still alive. Maybe I can save her. Maybe that's what I'm here to do. Save her.

"Esther!" I cry out as I fling the curtian back.

Except it's not Esther that's laying there lifeless in a pool of her own blood. It's my daughter.

"No. No." I say barely able to catch my breath. Without thinking I practically jump into the bath tub grabbing her in my arms as if that can somehow restore life into her.

When I lift her up she is heavy and motionless. That is when it hits me. That is when I scream.

I scream and scream until I don't have oxygen left in my lungs to release.

I feel the water from the bath go up my nose and sting my throat. I jump awake startled more by my dream than by my momentary slip underwater. "Cheryl! Cheryl!" I hear my husband yell as he all but breaks the door down.

"Where's Amber?" I say as he grabs ne in his arms still trying to assest the situation. "Where's Amber?" I say again almost forgetting to grab a towel as a run to her room.

Shes there in her room. Safe. Almost asleep but not yet.

"Mom, what's wrong?" I can tell she is shocked by my sudden onset of emotions. But I cant help it. My eyes begin to fill with water.

"Yesterday, you told me and your dad that-" I catch my breath as the sorrow begins to spill out of me. My confused husband places a hand on my shoulder. "You said you didn't know if you wanted to live anymore because of how badly you're being bullied. But those girls, they aren't anything special." I hug her again. "Im going to make this right." I say to her more than I do to myself. "Well, at least I'm going to try." I say as I remember the girl who lays without a head stone because her parents couldn't afford one. A girl named Esther. A girl whose smile I finally broke.