Will She Return?

What would you do when the monster standing before you was someone that you loved? How many chances would you give them to come back to you? How long will you watch them remain the monster that now looks hungrily at you? Will you wait until it is too late to save them, or will you just walk away, burnt out from all those years of hoping that they would find their way back and kill the monster that had laid claim to their minds?

There were times when I knew that she was back. I would sit beside her and take in those moments, dreading that they would not last, and I was right. The times when I see her have grown so few, and the times when I see the monster that she has become has grown so much. I had hoped that she had won her fight over her demons, but she still slips away. And I am left alone to sit and wonder when the day will come when she will return home once again.

I miss her. There were years when I had her in my life, and then there were times when she drifted away. I used to disappear into my own thoughts, my own depression to forget about her suffering. Then, I turned around and tried to help her, and help her, and help her, but she became a black hole struggling to fill its void. And I was being torn apart.

These days, the promised pill of sleep, Ambien has become her vice. She lives on cloud nine. Food in the early hours of the morning had become her routine before retiring to her bedroom until later that night when the rest of us have gone to bed. She became a ghost walking that silver cloud, and she was happy. But only she was happy.

Day after day, I waited for her. I hoped she would flush those pills away, but instead, she found other pills to take. Her mind was already being torn down by the Ambien, and control laid at the feet of drugs, prescription pills. She was gone again, riding the wild horse to no man's land, and nobody here could follow.

I wanted to save her, but now I can't even look at her. She has become a selfish child clinging to a cloud of oblivion. She wanted to fill her void, and everything that life had laid at her feet was being swept under the rug. She rather live dreams than live life. She rather walk blind than wake up. She would rather live in oblivion while everyone here watched her fade away.

The monster had won. All I see now is a shell with a sign swinging behind those glassy eyes, "Nobody's home." Sometimes, the light would turn on, and she would frantically run around the house, claiming she lost something and lash out at those around her. We would wait for her to come to the doorsteps of her mind to realize that she was home, and we had been waiting for her. But instead, she closed the door, and we were left with someone running around blind and confused.

She needs help, but nobody will come to help her. She has to take herself to the hospital, and even then, they may not take her. She needs to claim violence against us or herself for them to admit her, but she won't leave this house. She won't claim ill thoughts against us or her, but she has pushed her limits here when she stumbles back and forth, blind and confused and accusing us of doing harm to her. It is a nightmare that we live in, and she needs help. But nobody will come, and those EMT's, who were here a week ago merely just looked at her. What did they see? A sad woman trying to escape the darkest moments of her life? Why didn't they save her? Why won't nobody come?

So, I wait. I wait for the day when she comes back home. I hope those pills that have laid claim to her crumble into dust and blown as far away from here as possible. I wait for her. I miss her, and maybe, one day, she will wake up and return home.