#OutOfTheAshes: #Stonewall

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Note from S L Michaels

Chapter One

Blurred Lines

My insides were trembling. Cold. It was so cold. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I registered that I was in shock. A friend was dead, and I was to blame. How had this happened? It couldn’t be real! Thoughts raced through my clouded mind.

Whoever had come up with the childhood rhyme that only sticks and stones would break you and name-calling was harmless had been wrong – dead wrong. I watched from my bedroom window as the paramedic covered her sparkling white dress with the stark white sheet, until her body completely disappeared beneath it.

Slowly I slid down into the window seat, turning away as she was loaded into the back of the ambulance. My eyes glazed over as I stared down at the silky pink material of the prom dress I was still wearing.

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I felt the four walls of my room slide in closer with each passing second. My dress pulled tighter around my chest, restricting my airflow. I jumped up, ripping my dress from my shaking body, and kicked it away as if it were a poisonous snake. I ran to my closet, chest tight and breathing shallow.

Grabbing my fluffy, floor-length robe, I cocooned myself in it, its soft texture comforting. I focused on calming myself. I took slow, deep breaths. I huddled up against my headboard on my bed and rocked back and forth, the repetitive motion helping me to relax.

My mind raced with questions. Why had she done it? Why hadn’t she asked for help? Why had she been such a coward? Why? Just why? I knew the answer, but I wasn’t ready to face it.

I thought back to the beginning of the school year and the events leading up to tonight. There had been signs that all of us had ignored. Our junior year had been mostly uneventful, with the exception of the normal high school drama. Maybe that was the problem. When had bullying someone become the norm?

My phone jarred me out of the dark hole I was quickly sliding into. I jumped as it vibrated across my nightstand. The screen was lit up with Thomas’s name. I snatched it up and slid my finger across the phone, my hand shaking as I brought it up to my ear.

Tom... was all I was able to croak out. Tears began flowing down my cheeks, and I couldn’t stop them.

Maddie? Is it true? Is it true what they’re saying? Is she really gone? Concern laced his voice, along with disbelief, his tone hushed.

Yes, I wailed. It’s true. Tom, it’s awful. I don’t know what to do. I cried harder than I have ever cried, shaking against the headboard as the tears wracked my body.

I’ll be right over. Just hang on, Maddie; I’m coming. The call was disconnected.

I sat there for I don’t know how long. It seemed like eons. I was vaguely aware of more vehicles pulling up next door. I could hear muffled voices out in the driveway next to our house, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. I didn’t want to.

What I wanted was to go back in time to this morning, before any of this became a reality, and do something – anything- to stop her. Could I have? I would have tried, wouldn’t I? I wasn’t so sure of that. Hadn’t I had ample opportunity to do or say something to make a difference in the past? And what had I done? A big fat nothing.

My head lowered in shame, and I turned away from the window yet again. I caught sight in my peripheral vision of my bright pink journal lying on my desktop. I had been journaling since kindergarten. My life’s history could be found in the pages of numerous journals. Not that there had been much to report on up until this moment, but, for me, journaling was my release- an outlet to use to let go of what I was feeling, seeing, wanting, and doing. It was closure at the end of another day, with hope of a new tomorrow.

I wasn’t feeling hopeful right now. I was feeling lost.

Sliding off the bed, my foot kicked my phone that had fallen to the floor. I hadn’t even realized I had dropped it. I bent to retrieve it and saw a message flashing from Thomas.

"Mom won’t let me come right now. I’m sorry. She said not a good idea. Call me."

Thomas had been my best friend since we were in diapers. Our mothers were best friends; hence, Thomas and I had been playing together since birth. I loved him like a brother, but I didn’t feel like talking right now. I wasn’t sure I could put two cohesive words together, let alone try to answer questions I was certain Thomas would ask.

Talk later I texted back and turned my phone off. News- especially of this magnitude- travels fast in a small town. I was certain I would be receiving more calls that I didn’t want to take.

I was riding this rollercoaster of emotion at the moment, and felt drawn to my journal. I felt the need to unload the jumbled thoughts racing through my clouded and confused mind. Grabbing my favorite purple ink pen with my journal, I moved over to my reading chair in the window nook. I had spent hours upon hours in the overstuffed blue paisley armchair, reading and writing.

I curled my feet underneath me to settle in. Settle? I didn’t know if I ever would be settled again, but then the logical half of me – the part that always looked at situations sensibly- whispered Get a hold of yourself. Now is not the time to fall apart.

That’s me; the sensible, drama-free, good girl. Why did that leave such a sour taste in my mouth tonight? Maybe the truth is uglier. Maybe the reason people have that impression is because I avoid drama like the plague. I don’t get involved, period. That’s why.

A knock at my bedroom door interrupted my train of thought. A welcome interruption. My self-psychoanalysis was making me more anxious than ever. I looked up to find my sister, Allison, poking her head around the door.

She was still in her floor-length bridal-white prom dress. Tendrils of her long blonde hair had escaped their capture in the side combs pinning her hair back from her face. She looked beautiful, as always. We were complete opposites in every way. Allison was a senior, a cheerleader, sat at the popular table in the lunch room, and was the star goalie of the girls’ soccer team.

I was gifted with long mousy brown hair, glasses, and bone structure my mom called good birthing hips. Yay, me! I sit in the bleachers, playing the clarinet, while my sister gets hooted and hollered at during the football halftime show.

Still, as different as we are, we had supported each other through thick and thin.

Hey. She gently pushed open the door. I wasn’t sure if you were asleep or not.

Sleep? Are you serious? I looked back at her incredulously.

Mom and Dad are next door. Mrs. Nelson is freaking out. They are going to stay with her until some of her family arrives. Dad said to stay over here and, if we need anything, to call his cell phone.

I thought of Mrs. Nelson and what she must be going through. My heart hurt so much, I felt like it might combust.

Do you know what happened, Maddie? Did you have any idea she was thinking about doing it? Allison’s eyebrows were drawn together in confusion.

I felt like it was just the beginning of the inquisition. My defensive hackles automatically went up.

How should I know what happened? I wasn’t there. We weren’t really friends anymore. It’s not like she would have confided in me. All I know is she was supposed to go to the prom with Justin Mason, and he showed up with someone else.

The pain in my neck was spreading up the back of my head and around my temples, to my forehead. The throbbing pulsed with each beat of my heart.

Look, Ally, can we talk later? My head is killing me. I just wanted to be alone.

Sure. Okay. I’m going to go check on Jason and make sure he is getting off his video game and getting ready for bed.

Ally hesitated as she approached the bedroom door. I’m here if you need or want to talk. Just remember that.

The corners of my lips tilted upwards in a poor attempt at a smile. Allison really was a good person, as superficial as she seemed sometimes.

Thanks, I replied, I just might have to take you up on that later.

She nodded her head and closed the door behind her. It was quiet again. Even next door, the initial commotion had calmed. I took a quick look out the window. A police car still sat in the driveway, with numerous other cars.

A long, drawn-out sigh escaped me. I wondered, if I pinched myself really hard, would I wake up to find this all a bad dream? How did a situation get so bad that someone felt the only solution was to end their own life, especially at the age of 16?

I couldn’t stop the new flow of tears. My heart cracked a little more. We all used to play together in grade school. Our biggest argument was over who got to kick first or be at the front of the line. That all changed when we went into junior high. I thought about the first time someone colored their hair pink and blue. Lord, my mom lectured me for thirty minutes about not abusing our body’s temple.

High school cemented our differences, and highlighted the various cliques we seemed to be categorized into without even realizing it. Looking back now, I can see it very clearly. In fact, it’s all highlighted in my journals.

I walked over to my closet, where I kept a box