The pounding of the drums and the screeching of the electric guitar reverberated throughout the dark room and into Naomi’s chest, a daily ritual since she had lost hope she could ever find justice for her father. The fire within her was dead. Who would ever listen to or even believe someone like her? She wasn’t rich or powerful. She was nobody. She turned up the bass as far as it would go.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She immersed herself into the wall of sound, desperate to shake off the numbness, hoping the pulsations of the music would substitute for the lively heartbeat that should be beating inside a girl who just graduated from college and starting out in life. Instead, her heart and soul were slowly dying.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The music, the woman’s voice crying, pleading to be brought back to life, it had helped before. Maybe it would again. Naomi waited, not knowing if she could snap herself out of it this time. She tried. Every day, she tried to live the life her parents had wanted for her. And after they died, only her grandmother and Chuy could lift the darkness from her. After a while, even that stopped working.
She knew it would.
She hoped the music would help her to feel something, anything but the overwhelming numbness. It wasn’t enough.
Naomi sighed as she pulled out a notepad and pen from her desk drawer. She clicked the pen and paused, thinking about what she wanted to say to Chuy. There wasn’t much she needed to tell him. He and Welita would know why she did it, but she wanted to make sure that they understood that there was nothing they could do about it. She had tried. She really did try to find a little bit of the happiness she once had. Even the job that she was so excited to have, connecting impoverished families in the community with resources, couldn’t fill the emptiness in her heart.
She scribbled on the pad, the words flowing out of her, about how much she loved them. She left her bike to Chuy. He loved that bike as much as she did. He took so much pride in fixing it up for her.
“Please don’t think it was your fault because you took it away from me,” Naomi said to the empty room. He was right to take it away. Welita read her like an open book. Nothing got past that woman. The rush of adrenaline Naomi got when she came close to skidding out of control was the only thing that made her feel alive anymore, and even that was fading. She’d been pushing herself closer and closer to the point of losing control and finding herself splattered on the road, as Chuy had put it.
She had thought about getting a gun. Given the bad neighborhood they lived in, she could’ve used the excuse that she was getting it to protect herself. If it weren’t for Chuy’s following her every move, she would have. Ever since the day of her father’s funeral, she could feel someone’s eyes on her. She knew it was him. Who else was insane enough to follow her, especially when she went down the most crime-ridden streets in Houston?
She folded up the notes and placed them in two envelopes. She laid them on the coffee table. There was one more thing she had to do. Naomi grabbed her laptop and sat on the floor. Clicking on the keys, she logged into her bank account. Whatever happened, she had to make sure that Welita was taken care of. Chuy would watch over her and be there for her but, financially, things were tight for them. Welita could stretch out what little money Naomi left to her. With a click of a button, she transferred all of her savings to her grandmother’s account. She then shut the computer off and pushed it aside.
One more thing to do and she was set. She brushed her hair to the side to take off the crucifix necklace her father had given her. As she took it off, she recalled the look on his face as he gave it to her, and a wave of guilt hit her.
“I’m so sorry.”
Sorry she couldn’t live the future her parents had dreamed for her. Sorry that she didn’t have the power to make things right for her family. She was tired of fighting. Why bother when there was always someone bigger, stronger, and more powerful to knock you down every time you try to pull yourself up?
She picked up the razor, her fingers gliding over the cool blade. A simple trip to the local drug store was all it took to acquire the instrument that she prayed would be a release for her frozen soul.
One. Two. Three vibrant red slashes appeared as she slid the blade across her wrist. Tears pricked her eyes as the pain ran up her arm. She rocked back and forth as she watched the blood drip onto the floor.