WEN: 44E2AF
Exhibitor Name: Riley Sutton
Division: Creative Writing--
Class: 04 Short Stories (
would hold my hand and tell me about his day. He would talk about anything and everything. He was the only one unafraid to mention my parents. Noah also gave me a ballpoint pen for my 15th birthday because he knew a way of coping with the stress was for me to draw on my arm. He would muse, “Your mom always scared me a little. She knew what she wanted and she wasn’t afraid to get it. She was determined and hardworking and honest. I know you miss her, but she would want you to work hard every day. I know she’s not here, but she lives on in you. And as you recover and as you feel yourself moving on, just know that is when she will be happy. Seeing you smile again, laugh again, moving on, she will be happy.” I take a shaky breath, remembering my priest’s question. “They wouldn’t be upset that I’m happy. They want me to be happy.” I then ask, “Do you think they would be proud of me?” “Reagan, they would be extremely proud of you. It is incredible the way you are recovering. You were only fourteen when it happened, but we can all see how you are trying to make the best of each day. You worked hard in physical therapy to make a full recovery. I know you have your rough days.” I think of the day in science class when a group of boys nearby started making fun of each other. Suddenly, everything was too loud. It sounded like they were in my ear, screaming as loudly as they could. I ran out of the room and threw up before I made it to the bathroom. I would tell a friend a story and then I would remember that it involved my sister. Suddenly, I would become distracted, memories flooding my mind: playing video games with her, sleepovers and trading dinners when our mother wasn’t looking. When I finally agreed to talk to someone, the hurt didn’t disappear, not like I thought it would. It stayed, a daily reminder of what I had lost. I feel the tears fill my eyes and I remember something Noah told me. “Crying doesn’t mean you’re weak. Showing your emotions means you’re strong. ” I let the tears fall. I hear my priest again, “Reagan, you have made it this far. You are strong and intelligent and you are going to persevere. I remember Cassandra, she adored you. I know why you’re here today. It’s her birthday today, isn’t it?” I take in a thin, shaky breath, “March 5th. Today she would have been 12.” I look up, Happy birthday, lil sis. I love you more than you can imagine. I am here today, still fighting because of you. I love you, happy 12th. “I know what I need to do. Thank you, Father.” I get up and walk out of the church and back to town. I hear Noah’s voice, my priest’s voice, all those who are present and supporting me. I enter my grandmother’s house. “Grandma, I’m ready to talk. I want to talk about them.”
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