Something worth reading. -Cray -SUICIDE- Point of view: Ceiling Fan •This is the story of a girl who killed herself.. •The story is told by the ceiling fan in her bedroom… it’s quite sad. I kept her cool as I usually did, rotating in circles until I was beyond dizzy. She was crying again tonight. She did an awful lot of that lately. She was on her computer, as usual, and the makeup ran down her face. I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn’t. All I could do was keep her cool in these hot summer months. I spun round and round and lit up her room into the wee hours of the morning, watching her talk to her computer. She was saying goodbye to it, I didn’t really get it. But still I spun, round and round. Two of my lights were burnt out, but I have to admit is was kind of nice. I don’t like how bright it is when all three bulbs are lit. I like being a dim light in her room. She has lived in this room since she was a very young girl in the third grade. A few weeks ago, she moved the bed around to the other side of the room, near the window. I wasn’t sure why, but it was easier for me to keep her cold, while she laid in her bed. She was closer to me now, I liked it. I looked out for her every night. When she was little, she used to be afraid that I’d let go of the ceiling and drop on her and slice of her head! I was rather fond of her and I wouldn’t DREAM of doing such a thing. As I watched her tonight, she seemed bad again. The last two times this happened she took a handful of little blue pills from a bottle that she hid in her dresser, and cried. This time was different. I watched her type some things after saying a long, dramatic goodbye to her computer. As she surfed the web I wondered what was going on. I wondered if the computer was dying… or she had to give it away. Oh well. She wasn’t saying goodbye to me, so she wasn’t leaving. I kept spinning around and round. She retrieved a rope from her closet and began frustratedly tying it in knots.. I wondered if it was some sort of thing she had to do for therapy… She has been really, awfully down in the dumps lately. I kept spinning round and round and kept my light going strong so she could see what she was doing. She made a really elaborate knot with a loop at one end and she started crying again. I guess she didn’t like how her knot turned out. She went over and pulled the shorter chain on me three times, which meant she wanted me to stop turning. I slowed to a stop. Quite frankly I was a bit relieved. It’s a bit tiresome spinning round and round all day for that girl. But I’d do it for her. I’ve grown to love her, I think. The girl waited until I finished spinning and she took one end of the knot she made and tied it around me. I had no idea what she was doing.. but she has a knack for redecorating. Maybe she was making the canopy above her bed, like she always wanted. As she fastened the loop-end of her knot around her neck, I was suddenly snapped into the reality of what was going on. The constant crying, that blade she always stuck into her arms and legs that made the blood flow… the pills.. She was going to die. I wanted to screech and tell her no, or something.. ANYTHING. I couldn’t. I am inanimate. I was there, stuck onto the ceiling, with no way to help this little girl I’d kept cool for nine years now. At seventeen years old, this girl shouldn’t be dying. She should be living… Carpe diem! But she wouldn’t be able to seize much of anything if she was dead. But it was too late for me to do anything anyway. As she kicked her mattress out of the way, there she hung. Gasping for breath, but not being able to find it. It was a half an hour before she stopped breathing. I cried silently to myself without tears… it was the most agonizing thirty minutes of my life. I tried to let go of the ceiling under her weight, but the ceiling clung to me, I couldn’t save the girl. When her heart stopped beating and her breaths stopped, I have never heard such silence. The air conditioning came on and off for awhile, but nothing could dull the pain. The next morning was tragic, as I could hear the rest of the house alive and buzzing with activity.. They had no idea the girl was dead.. She usually slept until noon and rarely came out of her room. Around three in the afternoon, her mother knocked and didn’t wait for a response— she never did— before opening the door. She collapsed to the floor when she saw the girl. She began sobbing uncontrollably… the heartbreak on her face made everything worse. Her husband, who was not the girl’s father, ran in and saw what made his wife crumble in pain to the ground. He shrunk down next to her and hugged her as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and I assume he dialed someone that takes the census to tell them to take a girl off the list. They came and took her away, eventually. Three little boys stood horrified as they watched their sister carried out of the house on a stretcher, in a body bag. No one entered the girls room for weeks. When they did, they saw the password to her computer written on a scrap of paper, and her mother logged on. She cried a lot. She covered her face with her hand and left the girl’s room and came back with her husband. It occurred to me, then, that the girl must have written something or recorded something for them to see after her death. Everything in the house was different without the girl. I had no one to keep cool. I never turned round and round ever again. No one wanted to touch me… I think they blamed me for the girl’s death. I wish I could tell them I would have stopped her if I could. If I could speak I would tell them… I think the worst part of it is.. she said goodbye to her computer, and even though I spun round and round each night to keep her cool.. She didn’t say goodbye to me.
Posted on: Fri, 31 Oct 2014 09:16:12 +0000
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