Impulse by Ellen Hopkins Page B
Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: Fiction, General, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Psychology, Suicide, Social Issues, Interpersonal relations, Psychiatric hospitals, Friendship, Parents, Values & Virtues, Mental Illness, Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, Diseases, Health & Daily Living, Depression & Mental Illness, Novels in Verse, Illnesses & Injuries
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beneath the leg of my bed.
It's cool and comforting in my hand as I slowly unfold it, test its semisharp point with one finger.
Careful not to probe too deeply, draw too much attention,
I insert it just below the skin of my right wrist, down into a single blue vein. Oh God! Not enough! Easy now, right to left, vein to vein, connect the dots. 184
189
Wailed in Again
I walk to the window, sit in the chair, try to dissect the darkness with my eyes. How black it is out there!
And how green it is in here. Still, I can almost stomach it tonight, just a few hours until I can escape it again.
My head is light, cluttered with emotion, a jumble of lust, love, pride, hate, jealousy, devotion.
I still want to protect Emily, the secrets we shared. But I'm not sure why--she turned on me, broke down and confessed every detail of our love affair. Dr. Boston says she won't go to jail 185
190
because I'm past the age of consent. But her days of teaching high school went out with the recycling.
Weird, because they wouldn't
have suspended me. The same
sex that was okay for me
ended Emily's career.
I wonder if what I did made her hurt as much as she hurt me. Only fair, to trade hurt. But life isn't fair.
191
Life Isn't Fair
My dad has told me that at least a hundred times. Life isn ' t fair and luck? That is something you create.
He's spent forty-five years, creating a monster stash of luck, working twelve-hour
days, hating every minute he had to devote to problems at home. Mom isn't much better, but at least she can remain calm when everything
turns ugly--like the day I spurted blood on her new Berber carpeting. Amazing, how she skirted the puddle, staunched the flow with a towel, and barely touched me at all--
didn't dare stain the Versace.
Mom rarely touched Cara 187
192
or me, though, not even when
we were spotless. Diaper changing and bubble baths she left in the hands of our nanny.
Leona pulled "Mommy" duty until Cara and I turned fourteen. She was plump, pretty, and I will always remember her with a love far beyond what a child might feel for his substitute mother. When Leona
smiled, all was right in my world. 186
193
The Memory Stirs Sadness
It scatters around me like dust. My heart beats against the dent in my chest and I feel far apart from the things in my life that brought me to this place. My evening meds have yet to kick in. I get out of the chair, pace.
One, two, three, four, halfway to the piss green wall. Five, six, seven, eight. Pivot, hit replay. One, two, three...
It occurs to me that just hours ago, all I wanted was to get out of here, to crawl back to Emily.
I planned on trumping her with the guilt card, showing her how a .22 bullet had scarred both body and psyche. 189
194
But now I don't think she'll
see me. Won't open the door or answer the phone, which
leaves only my family to go home to. I know I'm not ready for that. Suddenly I find myself caught by a wave of nausea.
Was it the chicken? I fall on the bed, close my eyes, hope the churning wake
will vacate my head, let me
sleep.
195
Sunday Morning
I slide into a clean pair of black jeans, a button-up blue work shirt. Comb my hair, brush my teeth, ready for God.
But is He ready for me? Funny, but the person who gave me my first real taste of the Good Lord was dear, gay Phillip.
"Do you really believe in an all-powerful Creator?"
I asked him, one Sunday morning, a year or so ago. "And in some place we go after we die?" 191
196
I do, indeed. I can ' t say exactly what He is, or where Heaven might be. But I believe there ' s a place there for me.
It made no sense at all to me, but I followed Phillip to church that morning, and something (Someone?) there spoke to my heart.
You ' re safe here, it (He?) said. No judgments, no worries, you ' re one of My children, and a special part of the Grand Plan. 192
197
Okay, It Sounds
Like some weird soap opera. But that's what I heard, or maybe I felt it. I don't know. Don't care. And
It's cool and comforting in my hand as I slowly unfold it, test its semisharp point with one finger.
Careful not to probe too deeply, draw too much attention,
I insert it just below the skin of my right wrist, down into a single blue vein. Oh God! Not enough! Easy now, right to left, vein to vein, connect the dots. 184
189
Wailed in Again
I walk to the window, sit in the chair, try to dissect the darkness with my eyes. How black it is out there!
And how green it is in here. Still, I can almost stomach it tonight, just a few hours until I can escape it again.
My head is light, cluttered with emotion, a jumble of lust, love, pride, hate, jealousy, devotion.
I still want to protect Emily, the secrets we shared. But I'm not sure why--she turned on me, broke down and confessed every detail of our love affair. Dr. Boston says she won't go to jail 185
190
because I'm past the age of consent. But her days of teaching high school went out with the recycling.
Weird, because they wouldn't
have suspended me. The same
sex that was okay for me
ended Emily's career.
I wonder if what I did made her hurt as much as she hurt me. Only fair, to trade hurt. But life isn't fair.
191
Life Isn't Fair
My dad has told me that at least a hundred times. Life isn ' t fair and luck? That is something you create.
He's spent forty-five years, creating a monster stash of luck, working twelve-hour
days, hating every minute he had to devote to problems at home. Mom isn't much better, but at least she can remain calm when everything
turns ugly--like the day I spurted blood on her new Berber carpeting. Amazing, how she skirted the puddle, staunched the flow with a towel, and barely touched me at all--
didn't dare stain the Versace.
Mom rarely touched Cara 187
192
or me, though, not even when
we were spotless. Diaper changing and bubble baths she left in the hands of our nanny.
Leona pulled "Mommy" duty until Cara and I turned fourteen. She was plump, pretty, and I will always remember her with a love far beyond what a child might feel for his substitute mother. When Leona
smiled, all was right in my world. 186
193
The Memory Stirs Sadness
It scatters around me like dust. My heart beats against the dent in my chest and I feel far apart from the things in my life that brought me to this place. My evening meds have yet to kick in. I get out of the chair, pace.
One, two, three, four, halfway to the piss green wall. Five, six, seven, eight. Pivot, hit replay. One, two, three...
It occurs to me that just hours ago, all I wanted was to get out of here, to crawl back to Emily.
I planned on trumping her with the guilt card, showing her how a .22 bullet had scarred both body and psyche. 189
194
But now I don't think she'll
see me. Won't open the door or answer the phone, which
leaves only my family to go home to. I know I'm not ready for that. Suddenly I find myself caught by a wave of nausea.
Was it the chicken? I fall on the bed, close my eyes, hope the churning wake
will vacate my head, let me
sleep.
195
Sunday Morning
I slide into a clean pair of black jeans, a button-up blue work shirt. Comb my hair, brush my teeth, ready for God.
But is He ready for me? Funny, but the person who gave me my first real taste of the Good Lord was dear, gay Phillip.
"Do you really believe in an all-powerful Creator?"
I asked him, one Sunday morning, a year or so ago. "And in some place we go after we die?" 191
196
I do, indeed. I can ' t say exactly what He is, or where Heaven might be. But I believe there ' s a place there for me.
It made no sense at all to me, but I followed Phillip to church that morning, and something (Someone?) there spoke to my heart.
You ' re safe here, it (He?) said. No judgments, no worries, you ' re one of My children, and a special part of the Grand Plan. 192
197
Okay, It Sounds
Like some weird soap opera. But that's what I heard, or maybe I felt it. I don't know. Don't care. And
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