haunting summers lead to forgiving winters

*TW: This story contains descriptions of depression, PTSD, suicidal thoughts, physical injury and a health condition as well as mentioning a car crash*

“Let’s go for a quick joy ride. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

I open my eyes as a car rushes past me, whipping my recently chopped hair into my face. I clench my hands into fists and blow out a breath as the car, and the memory, fades into the distance. 

Not this crap again, I think to myself. This always happens. Just when I was starting to forget it ever happened in the first place. But I’m not sure I want to forget, so maybe these moments where I question my sanity are a good thing. It is nice to get a good night's sleep for once instead of waking up in a cold sweat, delirious and screaming. But the fleeting bliss of a restful slumber only occurs when I forget the single most important night of my life. Trading my memory for peace would mean forgetting her a could never forgive myself for that. I can’t forget. I won’t. Not when what happened to us was my fault.

I wrap my jacket tightly around myself as I quicken my pace, hoping the sound of my boots on the concrete sidewalk will drown out my dark musings. The trees lining the path are aflame with color this time of year, it almost looks like the trees are on fire. I can imagine the smell of pumpkin spice lattes and cinnamon apples just thinking about the changing seasons. 

Seasons change. Autumn sheds a second skin. It burns the bright green leaves that remember a haunting summer night to make way for a forgiving winter, where all the trees will be stripped bare of their shame. Maybe I can be like the seasons, maybe I can still remember and not carry this weight of guilt on my shoulders. That doesn’t seem likely.

When I reach the wrought iron-gate I stop walking. I always do. I stand here outside the gate and stare. My eyes scan the graves inside the fence, searching. There. The one third to the left of that tree in the middle. 

I squint my eyes, trying to read the epitaph, even though I know it's no use. I wasn’t able to see it yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before that. There won’t suddenly be a change now. I allow the image of her face to materialize  in my mind. I imagine her sitting on the ground with her arm slung lazily over her own gravestone and laughing. As if all of this is some big joke. Knowing her, it might as well be. 

“I miss you,” I whisper to no one in particular but somehow hoping she can hear me wherever she is now. My heart tugs, trying to pull me over the gate, across the graveyard and in front of her resting place. With the yearning encompassing me, I can pretend that my conjured up image of her is the real thing for a moment. I smile, even as I blink back tears. 

Suddenly it’s too much. It was like someone turned the lights on. I can’t look at her. I can’t see her face with this weight, this guilt, pushing at my back. “It was my fault,” I blurt out to her. “It's my fault you’re…”

I can’t bring myself to say it. I’m such a coward, no wonder I’ve never actually gone inside to see her. I just stand outside and stare. I really should just leave, go home and sleep. 

I continue to stand there, my feet rooted to the ground and my eyes are fixed on her grave. All images of her carefree and happy in that graveyard disappear and I’m suddenly desperate to see her again. I walk up to the gate and put my hands up on the cold metal bars. I stand up on my tiptoes and lean over the gate. 

Is today the day I finally do it? Maybe this is the day I can go in and see her. Maybe it will be good- 

A car whizzes past and the interruption snaps some sense into me. Who am I kidding, there is no way I’m going in there. I’m not ready to face the consequences of my actions. What would she say? If she saw me now, what would she think of who I have become?

Refusing to let that thought lead anywhere, I tear my gaze away from the small graveyard and walk down the street one heavy step at a time. It seems that every step I take away from that gate, the clearer the image of her grows behind my eyelids. Which does nothing good for me. 

I take a deep breath, ignoring the tightness and slight pain in my chest at the effort. My thoughts start to speed up until I can no longer conjure up a single rumination that doesn’t require thinking about what I cannot afford to focus on. Every single breath I take screams at me. The pain is a glaring reminder: it’s my fault.

That one single thought breaks through the fog. That’s all it takes, is one single misguided blip inside my diseased brain to send me spiraling.

The panic works its way through my system beautifully and I hold out my hands in front of me to see they are shaking. I stumble, my limbs feeling heavy, and brace my arm against a nearby tree for support. My breaths become shorter as my chest grows tighter, each breath now a concentrated effort. Ignore it, I tell myself. It will go away, it will pass. Just don’t do anything stupid.

I take a deep breath and immediately regret that decision. Sharp pain pierces through my chest and I’m suddenly choking on air, unable to stop. I reach into my jacket pocket, searching for my inhaler even as the dreaded darkness emerges from its hiding place. Let it happen, the darkness whispers to me as it wraps me in its cold embrace. You deserve it, it should have been you instead of her. 

I know. I know. I know, I shout into the void.

“Come on, Aster, just one more drink,” her voice punctures a hole in my brain and I gasp for air.

A wave of nausea crashes over me and I double over, on my knees now. Images flash behind my eyes and I can do nothing to stop them. I’m grabbing at the air in front of me, not sure if I am trying to pull oxygen into my lungs or cast out the memories I try so hard not to think about. But I can’t forget. I can’t forget her.

It was all my fault.

“Let’s go for a quick joy ride.” Her laugh died, whisked away by the wind before it could fill my ears.

I could never tell her no. It was all my fault.

I’m crawling on the ground now, I can’t see past the visions searing through my head. I’m searching the ground blindly for my inhaler. I must have dropped it somewhere.

A vivid memory flashes through my mind, searing my brain and punching me in the gut at the same time.

Headlights swim in front of me, the road slick with rain and the sky dark. I’m in the passenger seat, my best friend is driving. We are on a bridge.

We can’t stop the car in time.

I open my eyes, screaming as the sound of two cars colliding into each other, metal screeching against metal, drums in my skull The echo of crunching bone and blood curdling screams echoing in my ears where the sound of her joy should have been in its place.

“It’s a miracle this girl survived a crash like that. Unfortunately the driver wasn’t so lucky.” I don’t want to hear the officer. I wish I could make him shut up. I wish I could take back that night. I wish I had never let her drive.

Just as quickly as the flashback had come, it was gone just as quickly. 

I am left to pick up the remnants of my sanity by myself as I am gasping for air on the frosted ground. But even with the morbid reminiscence gone from my mind, the guilt and shame had just begun their assault. My lungs had been the entry point, now I was fully shutting down. Feeling nothing is such an all consuming thing. I guess that’s what happens when you are responsible for the death of your best friend. 

I was supposed to be the careful one. The one that kept her from doing stupid crap with lasting consequences. I failed to keep her safe and we both have to pay the price. Her with her life, and me with my stability. Scenes from that night reappear, playing in my head on repeat, the sound of sirens reverberating around my skull.  I don’t remember when I started crying but the sudden sharp, cold drops on my face couldn’t have been anything else. It is a little easier to breathe now so I open my eyes. I don’t stand up, not yet. The weight of that night presses me down into the cold asphalt beneath me. 

Asphalt. Not concrete. not dirt. I pick my head up to see that I have wandered into the road. 

Fear smacks me in the face as I hurry to stand up. Too fast. I stumble. 

I have to get out of here, the road, the memories, the rain, it was all messing with my head.

I hadn’t realized it was raining until now. I lift my head up to the sky, distracted by the dark clouds. For a moment, the cacophony of sound in my head dies down. The lull in the madness is enough for me to hear the honk of a car horn. I tense, expecting another flashback to accompany the sound.

But then I hear it again. Sharper. Clearer

My eyes snap open to see a car barreling straight towards me.

It’s funny. Almost poetic even, that the same car that ended her life would be the same one to end mine. I smile, tears staining my cheeks, just before the impact. 

And for the second time today, I hear the shattering of bones and ear splitting screams. But this time, I’m not the one screaming as my skull is cracked open on the pavement.