Sudden Tragedy
I'm tired of the constant fights I've been having with my parents over the past few weeks. It's exhausting to listen to your parents argue constantly. Technically, we should have it all with the amount of money my dad has, but it just goes to show that money isn't everything.
When I pull into the driveway, I stop and turn off the headlights. I sit there for a few minutes. I look at the time and see that it's already ten o'clock at night, which means Mom has probably passed out by now. I am sad and it hurts me to see how depression takes over her.
I get out of the car, leave it at the circular driveway and head inside. One of the security guards will park it later if he sees that I don't come back out.
I push open the door and walk straight into the lobby; then head down the small hallway to the right that leads to the kitchen to grab some food. I'm starving. These games always make me really hungry afterwards.
When I finish eating, I leave the plate in the sink and go upstairs to my parents' room. I knock on the door, but there's no answer. She must be asleep, but I go to check on her. When I enter her room, it's dark except for the small light from the TV. It's also a little chilly because the window has been left open and night air is coming in.
I turn on the soft overhead light next to the door to make sure she's okay. Once it's on, I look at her. She's in a ball and has pulled the blankets off her. I start walking towards her with the intention of covering her with the blankets, but as soon as I take a step my boot steps on something on the floor, causing me to almost trip and fall.
I look down to see what I've stepped on and see two pill bottles lying around. I bend down and pick them up. They are empty. I look at the label on both bottles. One says Ambien on one and Xanax on the other. My heart leaps out of my chest and I feel a knot in my stomach. One is for sleep and the other for anxiety.
The color drains from my face and I raise my head to look at her. She looks asleep, but... I swallow my breath because I know that tragedy is about to unfold at that moment. My heart is racing and I'm already in pain. Just yesterday I bought her refills and now both bottles are empty.
I quickly call our doctor, who lives five minutes away. He answers on the second ring and I quickly explain that it is a medical emergency. She tells me she will be right over. I keep trying to wake her up, I don't want to give up, I don't want to face this new reality either. She can't be dead. She can't be.
"Mom! Wake up!" I keep screaming and now I'm shaking her violently. I don't realize I'm sobbing until the doorbell rings and I wipe the tears from my face to see. I run downstairs and wipe my eyes again.
"Are you okay, Rayan?" asks Dr. Andrews as soon as I open the door.
"Please come quickly! It's mom." I say as I run up the stairs as he follows me. "I think she's taken all the pills," I say. A part of me dies as I utter the words because I already know, but I don't want to accept it.
He uses the stethoscope and places it on his chest to check his heartbeat.
"I'm so sorry, Rayan," he says with sympathy in his voice. "He's no longer with us."
I let out a heartbreaking cry as I fall to my knees, clutching my face with my hands. The sobs tear me apart. "No! No! She wouldn't do this to me! She wouldn't do this to me!" I repeat sob after sob.
"I'll call the funeral home," she says before leaving the room. I sit on the floor, rocking for a few moments before looking back down at her lifeless body. A fresh wave of tears slides down my face.
"How could you do this to me, Mom? I scream at her lifeless body, feeling a surge of anger. "I understand that you were unhappy, but how could you abandon me! Wasn't I reason enough for you to stay?". I ask him between sobs, though he will never answer me again. I will never hear his voice again.
I sit sobbing until the funeral home people come to take her away. Dr. Andrews let them in. I thought he was gone. Well, he's a friend of my parents, so maybe that's why he's still here.
"Rayan?" Dr. Andews asks me and I look at him. My mind is foggy and I can't pay attention to much else right now. "Do you want me to call your father for you, or would you prefer to do it yourself?"
"I'll do it," I tell him. "Can you make sure she gets a ride to the funeral home and everything? I don't think I have the strength to do it or drive," I say in a voice that sounds as hollow and broken as I feel.
"Of course. Don't worry, son," she tells me. I don't know if it's an old people thing, but whenever he's been around he's always called me son.
"Thank you," I manage to say to him before he leaves the room again to make sure my mother is taken care of. I should be the good son he deserves and do it myself, but right now I'm feeling too broken. I would probably lash out.
I look at the time and see that it's after ten o'clock at night. There's an hour difference between Riverside and New York, so it's after eleven. I should still be awake.
Knowing I can't hold on any longer, I dial my father's number. It takes him a few minutes to answer and I'm annoyed that it's taken so long.
"Rayan?" he asks me when he answers. "Is everything okay, son?".
"Dad... It's Mom. She's dead," I say as a fresh wave of tears runs down my face. Actually, I don't even know if I've stopped crying since I found her body. The image of her like this will forever be etched in my brain.
"Dead? What do you mean dead?" she asks, sounding more alert now.
"She committed suicide." I snap at him through the phone, again feeling the rage coursing through my veins. I don't know what to do with all these feelings bombarding me and I need an outlet for them before they consume me to the point of dying myself.
"Calm down, son. I'll be there as soon as I can," he says as I hear shuffling as if I'm already on my feet.
"Okay..." I whisper and cut the call short.
As I lift the pillows, an envelope with my name on it falls off the bed. I pick it up and look at it as I walk into my room. I put it in the nightstand drawer. I don't think I can bear to read it right now. I need some time before I can bear it. I recognize his handwriting on the envelope.