Toska

This post is for the "Blogger's Challenge #14", brought to you by @Showwq and @Sosepho. The theme is write a short sad story.

            The water rose to his abdomen. He was drowning. He lifted his head, saw the sunlight from above and thought to himself, "so close yet so far". He stood on his toes, looking for ways to get out of this well. A well that no one visited anymore, abandoned. There was no way out, he knew it. The water rose to his chin, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for what came beyond. The water engulfed him, life fire consuming wood. He held his breath for 20 seconds, his chest ached. 30 seconds, his head throbbed. 40 seconds, he could feel his energy crumble under all this water pressure. He desired fresh air, craved it, thirsted for it. He inhaled the water, imagining it was a gust of fresh air. Spluttered, coughed and inhaled some more. He could feel the water seep into his lungs, a fire burned in his chest as the water settled itself comfortably in his lungs. His eyes felt like lead, he tried to fight back, but was too weak. His body jerked, and then he gave away into the darkness, into unconsciousness. The last thing he remembered was feeling calm, a feeling he hadn't felt in a long while. His body sank down, until it hit the ground. His heart beat its last beat, his brain sent its last signal and then he fell into a long slumber.

            I sat straight up, sweating and struggling for breath. This has been the thirteenth time I've had this dream. I never shared it with anybody, not even my psychiatrist. It was too much to go through and I couldn't get myself to talk about it. I turned on the lamp, popped in my anti-depressant pills and swallowed. I walked to the bathroom, rinsed my face and neck with cold water, in hope that the heat would fade away.

            I had an appointment with my psychiatrist today, and I contemplated whether or not to tell him. I went over to the balcony, greeted the cold wind as an old friend and stared at the blazing full moon above. Oh, how I wish to go back to the the person I was, the bright and positive version of myself. Today, I am the shadow of who I once was, a shadow of Zachariah W. Sadgrove.

            I remember the day I lost everything I held dear to me. Her voice is carved onto my brain, "Zach, I forgive you. My angel." I cannot get the tragic event out of my head, I've tried to sleep to escape my reality, tried to re-read the books I once counted as my favorites, and I even had a try at drugs. I smoked crack until I was thrown into rehab by a friend of mine, who I lost touch with due to long distances. 

            I was an A student in one of the best colleges in the states. I had a group of friends, and a perfect girlfriend, in other words, I simply had it all. Little did I know that I was on the verge of losing it all.

            It all started with my winter break vacation. I was driving my parents back home, the road was dark and the music was loud. My mother was in the back seat while my father was in the passenger seat. We were heading back home from a party.

"So, Zach what was your impression about the party?" asked my father with a sarcastic tone.

"It was good, but it's not within my age range dad." I replied.

My father laughed and said, "There's going to be a time when it will be within "your age range" Zach. You just wait for it."

"I know that, dad. It's not that I'm afraid of growing up, I just want to live my life to the maximum while I have the chance to. Living life day by day until my hair starts to fall off."

And from behind the seats, I hear my mother say,

"William dear, can you please lower the volume? The music is making me feel dizzy."

As my father raised his arm to lower the sound, I stretched my arm and pressed on the off button. The music stopped but I could hear screaming from the back, my father gasped and pointed to a deer on the road. I immediately turned the wheel the other way, but the street was slippery with ice and the car flew to the side of the road. The car tossed and turned, I could hear my father's head hitting the dashboard, thump, thump, thump it went. My mother's screams echoed inside my head. After four or five tosses, the car finally stopped. It was upside down, I had my seat belt on and I was attached to the seat. I unattached myself and hit the steering wheel head first. Beep, beep, beeeep. I slowly crawled out of the car. When I looked at the wreckage, I realized that I have to drag my parent's bodies before it blows up. I headed to my father first, since he was the most damaged. I pulled him as my tears mixed with the blood on his face, I could barely see from all the tears. I set him on the grass and put finger to his neck, I couldn't feel a pulse. My tears drowned his bloodied face as I cried over his body. I headed towards my mother and I heard her groan as I carried her to the ground. She had a very weak pulse. I set her head on the ground and bent over her,

"Mom, mom can you hear me?" I said as I was chocking with my tears.

She lifted her hand and put it on my face, "Zach...... I forgive..... you. My angel." Then she let go, her hand hit the ground, the warmth seeped from her body and her eyes never blinked again.

            Toska, is Russian for a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, yearning.