16 The end is never ending.

"Why aren't you eating sweetie?" Alison knew her mother was more concerned now, more than ever before. For the past couple of days, her father was buried. They both stood at the front of the funeral. Everyone's heads were down. Maybe it was them showing respect of maybe there were too afraid to look at what actually was about to come. She'd stood there as the coffin her father laid in pulled from the hearse by six strong men, all wearing suits.

That silence that embraced them all, that kept dwelling as they entered the church. It wobbled as they'd carried it to the front and gently placed it down. The coffin was dark stained cherry and it was perfectly polished. It had a cushioned and silky lining. It seemed inviting. It was good to know that at least her father was resting in a comfortable place. She would hold her mother's shaky hand the whole time, seeing the tears that betrayed her mother every time. She kept trying to wipe them away onto her sleeve, remaining strong in the eyes of everyone else. But the sad thing was everyone saw, they saw through that facade she kept putting forth, they all knew she was breaking. It simply was too heartbreaking to even watch. But Allison had kept it together, still coming to terms her father wasn't really there anymore, never shedding a tear until they had passed a picture of him to everyone, that's when it all sunk in, for her walls came crashing down.

They both had been through a lot. A pang of burning pain kept lingering, it seemed to really get comfortable there, that pang. Her mother felt it even more than her, she knew it was never going to leave. When emotional pain came, her mother seemed to let it sitting at the dinning room table a cross her daughter, the daughter she was constantly worried about, she was fragile. More so now. Alison knew her mother coddled her. Before her father had died it felt suffocating but now she new it came from a good place, she cared for her. She looked at her mother at the opposite side of the table popping another spoon full of her rice into her mouth.

Alison saw the pain, the pain she tried so hard to hide. But she knew, she saw it. There was a sort of broken hearted that was akin to a smooshed ice-cream melting on a hot road; then there was the sort of heart broken that was akin to lighting a match; enjoying the flames and leaving the ashes. Her mother's memories, the fun ones, are that flame, but the rest the ashes she watch blow away in the wind. Was it fair? No she thought. She hated the man that has caused her mother this pain, this heart break. She hoped he burned in hell, for him to die painfully and slowly, so then he could feel the slight glimpse of their pain they both felt. They recently got word of his capture, the man responsible for all of this, her aunt had done her job correctly. Good, she thought.

Her and her mother always looked different, were different. They defiantly didn't think the same, where she was more the type to keep to her self, her mother was anything but that. Out spoken and social. She was stunning and Alison's jealousy of her mother's good looks brought a bitter taste in her mouth, but she couldn't nor would she ever tell her mother that, it would bring a conversation about how beauty was unique and everyone was "beautiful in there own way." Blah blah blah... Inwardly laughing at the last part, only someone who was beautiful would say that. Just saw the less of would feel better about themselves. They didn't know, understand what it was like to be invisible to everything, to everyone. To look at yourself in the mirror and not even like a single thing about the way you looked.

Nothing could compare to her mother's indigo ocean eyes, two pools of iridescent blue, sculpted upon her creamy face like dazzling jewels. Strands of molten gold tumbled out of her scalp, cascading down her back like waterfall. Cherry lips, crystal white teeth; she truly was a beautiful sight to behold. It's a shame she looked nothing like her. What a waste.

"I'm not hungry" Her voice barely a whisper, as she rested her head on her hand and shuffled some of the delicious food that still remained on her plate, without an appetite. she'd lost her appetite a while ago, food was the last thing on her mind.

They both sat in there dining-room, although calling it a dining- room was somewhat misleading. It was simply a room. They ate at. That was all. In it stood a cheap IKEA table that rocked when you would leaned on it , three white chairs from the thrift store and a pair of thread-bare orange curtains that left the heat escape in the winter as easily as if they were not there at all. The light bulb in the centre of the room were bare and hung down on its white wire, adding to the meager ambiance of the room. It was the kind of room you ate Kraft dinner in washed down with own-brand pop.

"Ali what's wrong? This is your favourite meal, and you barely ate any," the surge to answer was strong but her mother's movement of holding her hand up, indicating that she was not yet finished, "don't tell me nothing is wrong, I know something is wrong, is it about your dad?"

Ouch... It hurt to hear the reminder of his passing, She did like talking about him. Hasn't talked about him since she got word of his passing, but it's didn't mean she wasn't completely shattering inside. She was close to him, and losing him caused an ache within her heart that couldn't be replenished. Couldn't be explained in the slightest. Even if it had been a couple of days, that ache never left, it just lingered there.

The sadness drained through her rather than skating over her skin. It travelled through every cell to reach the ground. When this sadness came her appetite was ash on the floor. The food gets stuck, four bites and she was done. The urge to cry came and went, chaotic, powerful, spilling hot tears. In-between the floods it sits heavy on her heart. She won't sit there and be bombard with such questions, questions she was too fragile to even come to answering. Just thinking about him brought tears to her eyes, all she wanted to do was to go to her room and replenish that urger. To let it all out. She couldn't hold it in any longer, her swift departure happened in seconds, she stood up far too quickly and left.

Her footsteps rushed and loud, the echoing thudding her steps made could be heard as she ran up the stairs, for only in the distance she heard her mother sighing heavily, saddened. Alison's hate for this was too strong, why did this have to happen to her? Why did bad things only happen to her? She couldn't bare it any longer. Her life seemed to get worse each passing day. Sprinting towards her bedroom, her safe space. Her heaven. Although her bedroom wasn't small, but it wasn't big either, it was cluttered with clothes and books everywhere, she wasn't the most organised person in the world but she liked to think that her messy room was organised in a good way. The carpet beneath her feet was a dark blue, with floral wallpaper. Absolutely hating the choice of walls, but appreciated her own space.

She had made it, to her safe heaven. As she walked into her room and locked the door, not wanting for anyone to come in, even though the only person she actually had was her mother. Her room was still the same way as she'd left it, but the window was open, the wind gushed through it causing the white curtains to sprawl out and shift around. Weird, she thought she had sworn she had closed the window, defiantly didn't open it this morning, did she? Her mind hurt from all the thinking she was doing, but she was certain she never opened anything— maybe her mom did. Slow as a cat she walked towards it, quickly closing it, along with the curtains. Heart rate pacing in her ribcage.

Sighing out of pure exhaustion, her brain felt like it was on a five percent battery. There's a kind of tired that needs a good night's sleep, and another that needed so much more. For her, one became the other, darting out as the "one night kind" until a couple days ago it was ever so present- like it once was a heavy jacket but became heavy bones instead. It was then she knew that being tired could be wearing of the emotions too, that it can came together with a tired body, and become an ingrained part of a life that isn't worth living , but surviving, enduring. She wasn't born for that and neither were you. She felt as though we didn't come to be on a planet of such beauty and abundance to live like this, so drained, stressed, too thin to cope with life's storms.

And she didn't want to coupe with it. She no longer had the strength.

When the pain came her brain made a million excuses to just cave in, and it only needed one. Her thoughts were as a brilliant rat in a very bad haze, for it's just too easy to solve. Then she was there, at her addiction, awaiting a new fix, praying she can survive this "cure" for the never ending search for comfort. She was warned about the drugs they sell on the streets, the ones you could slip into her drink, and the ones that might become appealing to her eyes; however, they never prepared her for this one. The white powdered substance within this small, plastic bag that she held within her hand. The one thing that can make it all go away. Even if it was just for a little bit. She would do anything to get away from the pain in her heart. To feel something other than the pain that constantly resided within her.

With a quick sniff of the substance, its powdery form entered her nostril making its way in. She felt the dopamine neurotransmitter system within her brain start to rise, the hollow pain that once lingered began to fade. That's all it took. For her to just feel those few seconds of nothingness. That silence within her soul, where the world was silent. The absolute stillness that consumed and lingered around her now. Blissful. It caressed her skin like a cool summer breeze, smoothing her soul, taking away her jagged edges. It had been one hell of a rough day. And she wanted it to all disappear, for it to turn into dust in middle air. She wanted herself to disappear, to be swallowed whole into the depths of nothingness.

Pain inside her washed away, evaporating each passing second, as she laid there within the comfort of her bed, for what felt like hours. She rubbed her tired eyes with the insides of her palms, eyes drying from staring up at her cracking ceiling, counting the each crack that'd lingered, like it was the most intriguing thing she had ever seen. She didn't want to fall asleep. But always thought that she'd have to fight sleep in situations like these, fight with everything she had... forcing herself to stay awake.

Her chest kept on rising and falling rhythmically, breathing slow. That peaceful silence of everything, helped her feel at peace, as she fought with her sleepy state, trying her hardest to stay awake wanting this moment to last just a bit longer, but it finally won. It buried her further into a slumber.