CHAPTER SIX

~ SHATTERED ~

25 minutes later, I stood in front of the open gates of Atlanta Memorial Cemetery.  I wondered if I could do it.  "Might at as well.  I walked all the way here."  I assured myself entering the cemetery.  I walked directly to Brad's grave.  I sighed and sat down in front of the headstone, on the grass.  "Hey, Bradley. Sorry, I forgot the flowers."  I whispered smiling forlornly, as I ran my fingers over the engraving, 'Bradley Jacob Magdalena. 1977 - 1995.  A beloved brother and son.'  I bit my lip to keep from crying.

"I miss you so much, B.  Why did you have to leave me?  I know that before you... you... before it happened you told me that God was calling you.  But why couldn't you just become a damn priest?  God may have wanted you, but we need you.  Me and mom need you."  I gave up on trying not to cry and slammed my fist into the ground as if to try and wake him up.

"So Brad, how is heaven?  Remember how in church we used to whisper to each other about what it would be like?  I know you're up there, so tell me what it's like."  I asked as tears cascaded down my cheeks.  "Down here is nothing like heaven. You probably know.  You're my guardian angel, right?  I mean every time I tried... I tried to do what you did.  I heard your voice saying 'No Linny. Don't do it. Everything will get better. Don't be like me. I wasn't meant to be a role model.'  B. you were though.  You were my role model, my brother, my mother, my father, my best friend, my rock.  You were everything to me.  You were always there for me.  You never cared when I tagged along.  When Daddy left or Mom was too high to help you always helped me.  No matter what."  I ran my finger throught the grass, watching my tears hit my legs and shorts and run off into the grass and seep down into Brad's grave.

"Mom is better.  A lot better.  You leaving made her better. She doesn't do drugs anymore.  I hate to say this but I would rather have mom be high than you be dead.  Mom may be better, but I'm not.  It still hurts.  It hurts like hell.  They all said the pain would go away.  When?  When, Brad, when?  It's been five years and it still hurts.  Everyday, I wake up and think 'How far are me and Brad gonna run today?'  Then I remember that your dead."  I leaned back against the headstone and felt the coldness of it through my yellow tank top that said 'Bite me.'  Tears were still falling from my eyes.

"I still run, you know?  I do it for you.  Remember when you told me and Daddy you were going to win the gold medal in track at the Olympics?  Since you can't do it, I will.  I'll try. You deserve it.  Everything you've done for.  Guess what?  I got a scholarship to the University of Florida for track.  Just like you wanted to.  Kylie got excepted too.  It'll be fun.  Not as fun if you were here.  I can't believe I got in though."  I heard a twig snap behind me, but I ignored it.

"After everything, my grades slipped, along with my attitude. That's what Mom says.  That's why she sent me down here. First, it was Grandma's two summers ago.  She was too senile to do anything.  I walked all over her.  Then again I walked all over everybody if they'll let me right?  Now, it's Uncle Lou.  He's too busy.  So I got sent on tour with the Backstreet Boys. They sing pop.  Luckily I haven't been to a concert.  I don't think I could stand it."  I couldn't stop my tears from coming.  I had been holding them in for 5 years.

"Does Jesus let you sing up there?  Remember 'Amazing Grace'? It was our song.  'Member when you put the rap, to it?  You let me sing with you.  I still have the tape we recorded it on.  You know, the one you got your friend to put some dance music to it?  You said you did that so I could dance to it.  Me and Kylie made a dance up to it.  I still remember it."  I heard another twig snap and again ignored it.

"I still have that diary.  The one you gave me, the day before... you know.  I write in it a lot.  I ran out of pages, so I just stapled on a whole bunch of your stationary in.  I hope you don't mind I used it.  You hated it anyway.  You wanted to throw it away, but Mom made you keep it.  Mom made us do a lot of things.  Me more than you, though.  She was afraid of I would become a prostitute or something, I guess.  So she signed me up for ballet, tap, and every kind of dance and voice lessons possible.  Even gymnastics.  You always walked me there and waited for me because Mom was normally too high to do it.  Thank you so much, for everything.  I mean it.  If it weren't for you I'd probably be doing drugs.  'Member when you found out I had tried a cigarette?  You didn't flip out.  You just didn't talk me to me.  You would take me to my lessons and everything, but you would not say anything.  I got so upset, and started crying and apologized.  You, as always, forgave me.  Thank you so much.  I love you so much.  I miss you so much, Brad.  Why did you have to do it?" I asked, crying harder than before.  I heard another twig snap.  By this time it was getting on my nerves. 

This time I turned around.

"A.J.!" I screamed, not believing my eyes.  I wiped my face off, and jumped up. "What the hell is you f*cking problem?  Why the hell did you follow me?"

"Mags - " A.J. started. staring at me in shock.

"No! I don't want to hear your shit! Go to hell! Go to f*cking hell!" I screamed, running out of the cemetery.  A.J. began to run after me.  He kept up with me for about a block, but then stopped.

I ran all the way back to the hotel.  I flew up the stairs, into my room and into the bathroom.  I felt ashamed and embarrassed.  As I watched myself in the mirror, anger bubbled over all my other feelings.  I threw my fist at the mirror.  It shattered, cutting my knuckles and fist.  I picked the glass shards out an watched the blood dribble down my arm.  It fell onto the white Formica counter top.  I counted the cute. "18." I told myself, "That's how old Brad was when he killed himself." I slid down and laid on the cold tile and waited for the tears.

They never came.

I put my bleeding arm on a towel, which was laying on the floor next to me. I wrapped it around my hand to stop the blood.  It stopped within a couple minutes.  I closed my eyes.  Tiredness hit me.  It wasn't because of lose of blood, but because I hadn't sleep since two days ago.  As I drifted to sleep I though of my older brother, "I miss you, B. I love you." I muttered, before falling into a coma-like sleep.