Wake Me Up When September Ends

I awoke to the sound of my mother screaming. Screaming bloody murder. I lay in my bed, eyes closed, hands over ears, trying to escape from the sound. My door was locked from the outside. I couldn’t do anything to help her. I heard my step-father scream at her, and then I heard a faint cry from my mother. I began to sob uncontrollably. I knew she was gone, and it was his entire fault. Suddenly, I heard a click coming from my door. He was coming for me. He walked over to my bed and tossed the covers off. I flinched, shivering from the coldness in my room. How could someone be so heartless? He climbed in my bed. I tried to push him off, but he was too strong. He began taking off my clothes with his bloody hands. The ones he used to kill my mother. I winced with sudden pain jolting through my entire body and began to cry and scream. Scream for my life….


A shadow of disappointment covers her face
Why does she feel so alone?
Her eyes fill up with tears again
A loner is how she is known

All alone in the still of the night
Alone to face her fears
Her sadness has grown even more again
A frown over-shadows her tears

Only time will tell her now
Time is going fast
She’s letting herself drift away again
Drift away into the past

Sometimes she thinks life isn’t fair
She always feels so sad
She depends on only drugs again
Even though she knows they’re bad

A shadow of disappointment covers her face
Why does she feel so alone?
Her eyes fill up with tears again
A loner is how she is known

All alone in the still of the night
She’s always feeling low
The rain is pouring down again
She’s slipping into her shadow

Chelsea Desiree Ray-Dye

Copyright ©2006 Chelsea Desiree Ray-Dye

Just right after I wrote the last word, the biggest jerk in school snatched it.
“Look what I’ve got guys!” He shouted waving my poem high in the air. “It’s one of little raggedy Ann’s lame poems!” Everyone gathered around, waiting for Tom to recite the lyrics in a way to make fun of me. I looked down at the grass listening to the laughter’s of the other students while Tom read my poem. I felt so miserable at that point. Why did half of the class pick on me? Simple. Because I wasn’t nearly as rich as they were or the best looking.

I had bright blue eyes and bark brown hair. Red highlights. Torn jeans, a black tank top, and a grey hoodie. I obviously didn’t fit in at all. There’s no doubt about that. I wish my mother were here. She’d know what to do. I began to cry, burying my head in my shoulders trying to hide.

Everyday was like a battle.

Everyday was a struggle.

I had no friends I could rely on.

None.

This made me feel a lot worse. Should I talk about my step-father now? I shook my head and turned away from the school, at the direction of my home. I couldn’t help but think of that night, a week ago, when he killed my mother. What had happened after. I began to shiver. I couldn’t get that night out of my head. The pain rising through my body. The nasty things he’d say to me. And did I deserve it? Absolutely not! I looked over at the benches straight ahead of me. There sat a guy, writing in a notebook, occasionally looking at the students. I saw him shake his head at them and look at me. My eyes widened and I looked down at my shoes quickly.

I slightly looked over at my left seeing shoes. I looked up. It was Tom.
“Nice poem!” He said sarcastically. He smirked and crumbled the paper up, tossing it in the trash can. “Score!” He shouted as the paper fell into the basket. All his friends laughed and walked away. I felt like I was gonna cry again, but I held it back. I glanced down at my journal and began to write.

“This yours?” A voice asked. I focused my attention up. It was the same guy that was sitting on that bench over there. I took a minute to observe him. Black sunglasses, jet black hair, leather jacket even though it was like a hundred degrees out, a studded belt, black pants, red and black striped socks, and he was wearing black converse. He smiled down at me. He seemed nice, I guess. I looked at the wrinkled paper he was holding. It was my poem.

“Uh…yeah,” I stuttered, taking it from him. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” He said. He pointed at the ground. “Mind if I sit?”
I shook my head and looked down. He took a seat next to me and held out his hand. “I’m Billie Joe.” I flinched, not really wanting to trust any guy at first.
“It’s okay,” He said. The same thing my step-father says. “I won’t hurt you.” He laughed.
“Sorry,” I said smiling at him. “I’m Anna.”
“Cool. That’s my sister’s name.”
I laughed. “Really?”
He nodded and looked over at my poem. “I like your poem.”
I looked over at him.
He laughed. “Sorry. I can be a little nosey at times.”
“It’s okay…..and…thanks.” I said.
It felt like the world grew silent for a second. The birds stopped singing, the wind stopped blowing. I looked at Billie.
“So…are you a rock star or something?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yeah, recognize me?” He asked wondering.
“Not really.”
He laughed.
“You just look like a musician.”
Billie grinned. “Oh yeah?”
I nodded. “So are you in a band?”
“Yeah, Green Day.”

My heart sank. I looked at the ground. Tears started to flow down my cheeks. I wiped them away, but it didn’t help.
Billie looked at me with a confused look. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head no and looked at him. Tears still flowing down my cheeks. My eyeliner was probably smudged. “….My mom…she loved you guys.”
Billie frowned. I could tell that he knew what I was trying to say.

“Your mother…did she die?” He asked.
I looked down and nodded.
Billie put his hand on my back.
“You know, my dad when I was ten. How old are you?” He asked.
I looked up at him and said, “I’m 12.”
Billie nodded. “I have a son about that age, he’s name is Joey.”
I gave him a small smile. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “So….how did she die?”
I looked down. This was my chance to tell someone what has been going on inside my home. But my step-dad said that he’d kill me if I told! I sighed. No, I must tell. How can he kill me in prison anyway? That’s impossible. I cleared my throat and said,
“Well…my dad, he died when I was ten..”
“Really?” Billie asked shocked. I smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, in September.”
Billie stared. “So did mine…”
I looked at him. “Seriously?”
Billie smiled and nodded. “Sorry, go on.”
I laughed and continued trying not to cry as I did so. “After my dad died…my mom remarried…to this guy that she barely knew…I knew he was a creep….he….he…killed her…”
Billie gasped. “When?”
I looked at him.
He laughed a little. “Sorry, but this is important. Is he still at your house?”
I nodded. “A week ago…uh…B-Billie, can I tell you something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Um…he…touches me…in the wrong places…he forces me…he hurts me Billie.”
Billie’s eyes grew wide. “He does?”
Tears were now stinging my eyes. “Yes…h-help me Billie, please.”
Billie nodded and stood up.
I looked up at him with a confused look.
He held out his hand for me to take it. When I stood up I looked at him. “Where are we going?”
He looked at me, smiled, and took my hand.
“We’re going home...”
I stared at him. "Really, I can come with you?"
Billie smiled. "Of course!"
I smiled and gave himn a hug. He looked down and smiled at me.
"So...mind if I asked how your father died?" He asked as we walked down the street.
"Oh no...he died...of Cancer."

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