Daydreamer
New Member
Sometimes, if I close my eyes I can still see Anthony. I see his sweet smile and I feel like everything is alright. When I dream, I can hear his laugh. In those moments I feel like everything is normal.
When I open my eyes, or wake up, I'm hit with the sharp pain of reality. It's days like today where there is little comfort in waking.
The first thing that I think of when I wake up is "14 days". It has been 14 days since they found Anthony's body in an alley. His arms were broken and his face bruised and swollen. What killed him was being strangled, the police know that by the bruises on his neck.
Not only is today exactly 2 weeks since my best friends body was discovered beaten in an alley, but is also the first day of my support group.
The support group was my mother's idea. The last thing I want to do is sit in a room full of crying people telling me to get over it. The only reason I'm doing it is to make my mother happy.
So I get dressed in my tshirt and jeans, and brush the tangles out of my long brown hair. I head downstairs where my mother is eating a bowl of cereal in her bath robe.
"Good morning Natallie," she says and I can tell she is trying to act cheerful.
I smile and sit down and quietly eat my cereal. I'm 18 and my mother still insists on doing simple things I can do myself, like pour a bowl of cereal.
When I finish I give my mother a pleading look, trying to get her to change her mind about support group.
"Well you don't want to be late," she insists and I know she has made up her mind.
I head out the door and start to walk toward the building where the meeting takes place. Conveniently it is a short 5 block walk away from our apartment.
Even the building looks depressing. It's a dull shade of grey and even sunlight seems afraid of it.
I take a deep breath and start walking up the steps.
It's time for the worst hour and thirty minute of my life.
