One In The Same
This is a rough draft. I need ideas on where to take this and what direction to take. I have an idea for the ending but need some middle pieces lol.
Beginning:
It was a quiet autumn day. Tree branches brushed gently against the roof of the church as a cool breeze drifted through the cemetery. Inside, a woman sat perfectly still, only a few tears slipping down her cheeks. Her eyes never left the solid wooden casket.
My daughter's casket.
I rested a hand on her shoulder, hoping to offer some comfort, but she didn't even flinch.
The funeral had ended nearly an hour ago, yet I couldn't bring myself to make her leave.
Ever since the accident, she hasn’t been the same- distant, confused, and worst of all, she still thinks my daughter is alive. Always asking where she is or when I’m going to pick her up from Chris?
Chris is my ex-husband.
After I found another woman's underwear mixed in with our laundry, our marriage unraveled. Even now, he insists they were mine. I think that's what hurt the most: never knowing the truth, whether it was a one-time thing or did my husband just fell out of love with me? But I guess it doesn’t really matter now; all I have left is my mother, and it feels like I’m losing pieces of her every day.
I convinced Mom that my daughter is spending the summer with her dad. I'm hoping her doctors can get her medication sorted out soon.
Maybe then this nightmare will finally end.
Pretending she's still alive is somehow more painful than accepting she's gone.
"Alice."
My mother's voice drifted in from the living room.
I carried in a glass of water and held out her medication.
"Here, Mom. It's time to take your pills."
She groans, “But they make me see things that aren’t real”
"No." I offered a small, reassuring smile. "Dr. Cole changed your prescription. These are supposed to help." She groans once more, but relentlessly she swallows the pills.
I think she only takes them because they help her sleep.
Almost every night, I hear her talking to herself through the walls. Sometimes she cries. Sometimes she laughs. Sometimes she carries on full conversations with people who aren't there.
The doctors could prescribe something stronger to help her sleep through the night, but I can't bring myself to add another bottle to the growing collection of medications on the kitchen counter.
A loud crash brings me back to the living room; the glass of water I just handed my mother is now shattered into pieces on the hardwood. I walk over, being cautious of the mess. I lean down and gather the larger shards first.
"Mom? Are you okay?"
No answer.
I assume the loud noise stunned her. A sharp pain hits me; I cut my knee on a small piece of glass. I then realize I’m kneeling in the puddle of water. I shake my hand, and water goes everywhere. When I reached down to steady myself, my hand never found the hardwood.
Splash
Gasping awake, I was lying in the bathtub. This wasn't unusual anymore.
Ever since the accident, the days had blurred together. I lost hours at a time, only to find myself in places I didn't remember walking into. More often than not, I ended up back in my old bedroom.
It was supposed to become my daughter's room once we finished settling in.
I shift my legs, and a stinging pain hits my knee, the same tiny cut I got from the glass.
Thank you! <3