Numb

*Without spoiling what's written below, I do have to say that this post deals with very dark subject matter. This post may not be for everyone and I absolutely understand if you do not wish to continue reading*



"Is everything okay?" I asked in lieu of saying hello.

I heard Melinda take a deep, shaky breath before clearing her throat.

"No, not really," she began, her voice thick and raspy.  I could hear voices and noise in the background but couldn't quite make it out.

"Melinda, what's going on?" I asked, my pulse quickening.  Something had to be very wrong to warrant this call.

"Emma, sweetie, is anyone there with you?"

"No, I'm alone.  Why, what's going on?" I repeated my question.  I paced my bedroom in the dark, tugging at the tangled ends of my hair.

"It's Michael," Melinda whispered, her voice growing more hoarse.

"Did he do something, is he in trouble?" my mind was racing, just like my heart.


I could feel my heart beating against my ribs, waiting for her reply.  Nearly thirty seconds of silence passed but it felt more like ten minutes.

"Melinda?  What happened?  Is Michael in trouble?"

"He's gone, Emma." Melinda spoke flatly.

"What do you mean, gone?  He's missing? Didn't he come home today?"

"I mean, he's gone.  He crashed his car and he's - " she broke into sobs.  I heard her fumbling with the phone as I tried to process what she was saying.

"Emma?" Tom's voice came on the line.  I heard Melinda sobbing in the background.

"What's going on?" I pleaded again.  I felt sick and my lips felt numb.

"We wanted to be the ones to tell you, this isn't something you need to hear from a stranger," his voice was strained, gruff with emotion. "We got a call from the police a few hours ago, we're at the hospital now.  They, uh, have reason to believe it wasn't an accident.  There were a few witnesses and from all accounts, this was intentional.  He didn't survive the impact."

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't.  I slapped my face, surely I was dreaming.  As much as I had wanted Michael out of my life, I never wanted it to be like this.  My tongue felt like a shriveled slug in my mouth.  I struggled to form words.

"I'm so sorry.  I don't know what to say," I heard myself speaking, but my own voice sounded foreign and far away.

"There isn't anything to say," Tom sounded defeated.

"I'm coming up there, I have to.  I'll be there soon." I hung up without waiting for his response.

I was on autopilot as I collected my things and walked across the courtyard to Kate's apartment.  I could see myself knocking, but I felt like I was no longer inside my own body.  Kate opened the door, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Oh, my god, what's wrong?  Is it the baby?" Kate's voice was shrill and frightened.

I shook my head sharply, not knowing if I could say the words.  Saying it out loud would make it real

"Michael's dead, Kate.  He's gone and it's my fault," the words came spilling out, I was in no mental state to phrase things delicately.  Kate wrapped her arms around me as I crumpled to the floor, sobs wracking my body.  I could feel her body trembling as she, too, broke down in tears.

---------------

The ride to the hospital was silent.  Kate drove, while I sat hugging myself in the passenger seat with tears streaming down my face.  We found Michael's parents looking devastated.  Melinda and Tom pulled me into an embrace as we cried together.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," I repeated over and over, clutching onto both of them.

"It's not your fault, honey, it's not.  Nobody blames you," Melinda soothed.  I felt guilty that she was the one consoling me.  Michael wasn't her biological son, but she had raised him since childhood.  His birth mother had been an alcoholic who had drank herself into an early grave when Michael was still a child.  There is no greater pain in life than outliving your children.

I sat in shocked silence as Tom filled me in on what occurred.  Michael had been sent home from the psychiatric ward with high hopes for a better future.  He'd somehow been able to hide just how deeply his depression had burrowed.  They had found a note indicating his plans but by then, it was already too late.  They said he left in great spirits, saying he just wanted to go for a drive.  My mind flashed to the other two envelopes Michael had addressed to me.  With a sinking feeling, I realized what they probably contained.  This wasn't a spur of the moment decision.

Hours later, I found myself at home, wrapped up in a blanket and tearing open the envelopes.  My worst fear was realized as I read the letter.  Silent tears streamed down my face as I thought to myself that I could have done something if I'd only read the second letter sooner.  The tone and phrasing made it obvious what Michael had planned.

My heart absolutely shattered when I opened the third letter and found it was addressed to "My Baby Girl".