The Gift of Life

The phone was ringing in the other room, frantic calls from worried people, probably only starting to wonder now where I was- but I wasn’t listening. My eyes fixing intensely the box. I tried figuring out who could’ve sent it, but the more I tried making out of it, the less sense it made. If my parents were here, they complain I’m paranoid, well- they might be right, but I still found the box ominously at my door, the sun setting behind; with no one in sight. Worse- with no name tags. My eyes inspected corner and parcel of the box, but there was only a single writing in delicate curvy letters, an address- mine. I broke the spell, and, leaning in, opened it. It contained a full set of paint, in various shades and tones, onyx, glaucous.. you name it. It took some time to sink in, but as the realization befell me, I pulled back, gasping. No.. they wouldn’t dare?! I felt a violent urge to throw up. “If this is some kind of sick prank,-” I saw a cleanly folded letter, exactly in the way she used to do it. I picked it up, hands trembling, and read and re read the same word a dozen times before it sunk in. “Ash”. I choked a sob. 

That was four hours ago, now, the sun had definitely set, and the box was locked away in my closet. I was staring outside, watching without seeing a butterfly caught in a spider’s net. Ash would scream in her shrill, little five years old voice, rushing outside to free it. She’d probably do it too, if she was here. Feeling a pang of sadness, I turned away. I was weary of sadness. So tired of living in fear of people’s eyes. So tired of being tired. And today.. I snapped. It’s okay, no one will ever notice. My parents will, when they return home and find me. They’d try understanding what they’d done, and they’d care, for how I felt. A rush of weariness washed over me. They’re the only ones that did. Holding the bottle in one hand I unscrewed the lid with the other, but my eyes fixed on a picture of Ash, smiling, eyes twinkling with laughter. Shut up, it’s all your fault. In one swift motion I tore my eyes from the picture and swallowed the pills. “There,” I told her, in an assured voice. “It’ll all be over soon.” I looked down at the bottle, seeing “72 hours”. I cursed aloud. I guess not. I threw the bottle across the room, and it smashed against the wall, spilling the pills below my bed. The tears were already beginning to run down my cheeks, but at this point I was just too exhausted, falling asleep immediately the moment I hit the bed. 

56h 

Late the next day, I woke up, and the moment I did, slowly plugged in my earphones whilst staring outside. The sun bathed my room in a worn out, tired yellow. I turned away, sick. Finally, I got up, soaked a cloth in alcohol and pressed it on my forearm. That’ll make Beth happy.. then I prepared myself. The whole day, I occupied myself the best I could, but each time- my attention drew itself to the box. Why would my sister do that? She knows.. she knew. She did it on purpose. But why. Unable to resist the temptation any longer, I figured I could check the box, not like it’d matter.. I pulled out its contents. Color pallet, brushes, a sheet of paper- I raised my eyebrow- stains? Two blotches of ink on the otherwise immaculate paper. Charming. My phone pinged loudly. Maybe she’s trying to tell me something.. my phone pinged again. Or maybe she wants me to feel ping guilty.. I dragged myself, reading “you’ve got 322 messages in the group discussion -class group-" I went through the last ones

-“hey where’s Dusk?

-I don’t know. Who cares.

-True 😂

-OMG Dusk, if you’re reading this, we just wanted to tell you everyone would be better off without you ️❤️

-😂🤣

-ye just kill yourself 

-yessss 🥳🥳

-and that outfit you wore Friday? Burn it. It’s tragic 😂 ”

Tears were blurring my vision, when I blinked them away. They rolled down my cheek, splattering against my phone. I threw it across the room violently and dried my tears with my sleeve. It’s alright.. it’ll be all over soon.. 

“No!” I screamed shrilly. “I won’t just give them what they want! I’m going to make them pay! Make them feel guilty they wished they died in my place!” I looked at the box, hint of a smile crossing my tear-stricken face. “And I know how.” 

45h

I set myself to work early the next day, set the sheet in front of me, and immediately began with my first day to school. I was- I drew a butterfly- happy. An orange and yellow butterfly, flying up and out. I remember that first day, I kept going over to people and making friends with everyone. I wouldn’t, if not for Ally, my best friend. At that time, she hugged herself whenever we crossed new people, which boosted my confidence, so instead I went over to them, displaying my warmest smile, and dragging her with me. But I knew she was secretly glad I was there to break the ice. Though when she wasn’t around, I stayed low, keeping in the corners. But then, I’d look at my butterfly, remembering the words. “Be brave, no one can stop us, sis,” and I’d suddenly feel comfortable walking in a room full of eyes. People would always ask me about it. About the sunny butterfly on my forearm. I would tell them it’s me and my sister, when young, who drew one on both our arms to always be together. Then I would add that it’s permanent, and people would look at me with huge eyes. A great topic of conversation, I would always say how I wished I could wash it away, and people would sympathize.

 But I never told them about the words. When I was little, a child my age insulted me. My sister, who was three years older than me, found me crying and drew a butterfly on my arm. Her secret talent, and my soon to become passion. She whispered, “be brave, we’re invincible.” And then drew one on her own arm, “Together.”

I’d sit with Ally, basking in the sun, where we’d talk about everything and nothing as I drew anything and everything that came to my mind. Mostly butterflies. For a reason I just can’t put my finger on. That’s when the popular people come in. The ones I got to know were Skye and Elizabeth. Which everyone called Beth. They approached me, asking if I wanted to be their friend, which wasn’t even a question for me. I smiled at them, but then, I remembered Ally and saw her wringing her hands, looking down. 

“But you’ll need to take my friend Ally in as well,” I said, smiling louder

Skye stiffened, which should’ve been a red flag. But I ignored it. “Okay. Yeah, sure.”

They also happened to be my sister’s friends, although Ash never told me about them. As a matter of fact, she never even mentioned them. As we went outside to our usual spot below the willow, I talked about my new friends.. and my awful grade that scared me out of my wits to have to tell my parents- she told me she’d manage it for me. I always looked up to Ash, and still do. But it’s strange how much she changes when I’m not around. I’d know because when people talked about her, conversations turned cold. They’d call her insensitive, cold-hearted. Say she called everyone “ugly”, and always made harsh jokes. I always argued on that.. but was unsettled. My sister.. whatever she was, was not insensitive. 

The following days were a rollercoaster. Me and my new friends went over to people giving advice. I just watched as Beth walked over to people telling them how “you should fix your hair in another way. It looks like a bird’s nest.” Skye and Ash would giggle, and I’d join, because we were all just really admiring Beth’s confidence when helping people about touchy subjects. Ally giggled with us, but wrung her hands all the time, and always seemed to need to go to the bathroom during every single break.

 I noticed Ash didn’t talk much, and when we met again at our spot, I asked if anything was wrong, and she told me she was fine. Well when she was with us, sure, she giggled, but her eyes never twinkled as before. They.. looked dead. But I figured she must be just tired, if she said so, then she really must be fine. I drew a second, blue butterfly. A way of showing how, as the butterfly contorting around the black blotches, I contorted around the red flags and ignored them. 

And one day, Beth and Skye followed Ash to our secret spot. They giggled and asked if there were any other secrets between us. I insisted that yes and told Ash to show her tattoo. First her eyes looked quizzical, then she laughed, saying that the tattoo wasn’t permanent, and that she had washed it away long ago with some alcohol. Although I joined in in the laugh, I felt like she had just crushed my heart. It.. hurt. 

I looked up from my drawing and at my arm, with the alcohol-soaked cloth drenching it. I smiled sadly. 

Then one afternoon, I was running around, when I bumped into Ally helping a bleeding guy up. Hoping to get some help with my friends, I went and told them. They looked at each other. That’s when I noticed Skye wasn’t here. Ash took a step forward. I noticed her eyes were teary. I never saw them this way before. “That guy punched Skye in the face when she was just trying to help him with his look. We only helped defend her.” I stared, disbelieving. “Why is Ally helping him then??” They looked at each other knowingly. “Don’t worry. We’ll talk to her.”

At the bus stop I waited anxiously for Ally, and when she did arrive, I ran over to her. “Hey I was so worried-“ she didn’t even look at me. “Ally..? What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” her hands were twisting her dress’s fold. “I’m fine.” “No, you’re not. I know you when you’re happy.” “Oh. Okay then.” She started walking. “Ally! Please tell me what’s wrong! If it’s your grades-“ “I don’t care about my grades!” She was shaking. “It’s- I don’t want.. just leave me alone!” I pulled on her sleeve to stop her, discovering a huge bruise. I gasped. “Who- did this to you..” My voice cracked. “Your friends. They’re not who you think.” I shattered the yellow butterfly. Just like my happiness did, then.

 But people were looking at me, so I just stitched a smile. But I was too troubled and went up to my friends. The first thing I noticed was that Skye seemed fine, after being punched in the face. And when I asked about Ally, they laughed and told me they kicked her. I was taken aback. “W- why..?” For the first time, my smile wavered and faltered “I thought she was your friend..” they laughed again 

I dipped my brush in black ink, poising it, ready, above the blue butterfly. “No. We never were. “You thought? Aww..” "why would we be friends with little girls? Idiot” 

I suddenly ran the brush across the butterfly, cracking, shattering it. Then Ash was there, out of breath, with again, her watery eyes. “Leave her alone!” They giggled again, like they had always done, coming my way. “Dusk! Run!” I saw my sister, I saw her friends, and didn’t want to leave her alone; I wanted to stay with her. That was the right thing to do. But instead I looked at her once and ran all the way back home. And when she arrived, late. Oh, so very late. I acted as though I was asleep, never thanking her. 

I drew a torrent of orange trickling from the butterfly, sucked in by the blotch- all joy, drained by a single flaw. That’s when the talk started. Apparently, I had hurt Ally, I was racist, insulting. And people believed. Ally never proved them wrong, she was too shy to do so. But Ash had also her friends to bear, and now I really noticed her dead eyes. She just took everything in. On the opposite of me though, she never tried stitching a smile. She didn’t think it’d bring her happiness. I’d slip away when Ally approached me. I stopped drawing. And one day I was too drawn out and tired of surviving every day, not living, so I- I.. let’s just say I tried ending my life. 

34h 

I got up. It’s too hard. I looked down at my paper, now soaking wet with deep black ink. But as I turned to leave, a pot fell over, spilling its contents on the sheet. I looked back. White. A splatter of pure white on the ink. Ash. My eyes filled up with tears and I sat back down. 

Ally had worriedly called Ash, since we had not talked in days, asking to know if I was doing okay. Ash was just as worried, her classes started earlier than mine and since I stopped coming to our spot, we never saw each other. Ash burst in my room, stopping me even though I fought fervently. “I’m sorry, so sorry” she kept saying, but it might’ve been me. “So so sorry” her eyes filled up with water once again. “It’s all my fault. But I’m here now.” “Will.. I.. die?” She had said “yes,” but her eyes were unblinking. They always were when she.. “liar,” I whispered. They called an ambulance and I woke up only later, to see I was at the hospital. I drew a phœnix, there. It was meant to be me; I wasn’t alone anymore. 

I weaved a spider web on the white ink, because, I learned the hard way, once I returned to school, of my sister’s death. It.. destroyed me. I stopped drawing for good, only listening to music. Even in class. Me, who usually listened with so much avidity to teacher’s lessons. I wanted to drown. And not only in sorrow. 

13h 

I splattered drops of red all over. Now, I had skipped school, and taken the pills. And soon, my future will look this way..- I splashed black ink all over the paper once again- and drew my final, a raven. I sat down, panting. Well, this is it. I stretched.

 As my eyes fell back, I could see that.. my future wasn’t entirely dark. The red started showing below the black. And my raven was.. erupting in flames. Fiery mane, colorful red feathers. A phœnix..? Impossible! And yet.. my phone pinged. “You’ve got a new message:” beep. “Hey Dusk, it’s me, Ally. I was worried about you and wanted to ask if you’re okay.” I felt warmth, like embers, glow through me. “Please answer. It’s the fifth time and I’m seriously getting worried. If you don’t answer, I’m coming! This is a warning.” I could hear her laugh. Not giggle. Laugh. “I know it’s hard.. I’m sorry I was never there to support you, but I want you to know that I’m here now. Please answer. I miss you.” Beep.

With renewed energy, I decided to look one last time at the discussion, seeing one person had replied. Ally. “Hey Skye. I just wanted to clear out something. Yeah, maybe you are popular and maybe you have friends to hang out with, but you don’t have REAL friends. And yeah, maybe I don’t have much, but at least I have that. I have Dusk.”

-you don’t have much, you have nothing 😂

-two people are friends without even talking, that’s tragic 🙃

I was burning on the inside, burning burning burning.. and it felt good. I talked the screen 

-your heart is the tragic one 😘 

And although I they saw the message, none answered. I returned to my drawing, content, outlining clearly the phœnix. I raised its talon, as if clutching something..- I settled on a heart. A violent pang of weariness got hold of me. With trembling hands, I.. drew a raven. Flying away from the heart.. and butterflies-! Flying, intertwined, red, and gold, into the heart..- dots blinked before my eyes- .. my heart. New wave of weariness. I collapsed from my chair. The pills! How could I forget them! and suddenly, it dawned that my life was this way because I left it turn into that. And I knew I wasn’t alone. Never was. I fought against the weariness. I didn’t want to die. All I focused on was the phone. I crawled slowly. Dragging myself across the floor. But I had to reach the phone! The room spun, eyes zoning in and out. But still I crawled. And half aware, I grasped it, dialling.. 

“Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”

My mouth weighed tones. I unclamped it with effort, trying hard remembering- “71.” 

“I don’t understand. Please repeat” 

I tried snapping myself out of it “71.. 71 OakStreet, London.” 

“Alright. We are sending someone on their way. Please stay on the line.” 

I sighed contently, relaxing against the floor. “What’s your emergency?” 

“It’s.. I..” 

Just at that moment I realised the cloth had slipped off my arm. And I could see the- permanent! It’s permanent! For the first in a long time, a real smile shone wearily, but warmly on my face. 

I closed my eyes “it’s, oh.. sister.. 

I want to live~!”