Kristine Scarrow - The 11th Hour

Crawl inside this body find me where I am most ruined, love me there

Rune Lazuli

At the root of this dilemma is the way we view mental health. Whether an illness affects your heart, your leg, or your brain, its still an illness, and there should be no distinction

Michelle Obama

The clocks large red numbers glow 6:02 a.m. I mustve missed the alarm. It was set for five thirty; sometimes I sleep through it and it beeps for ten minutes straight before giving up on me and going silent again. Any other day this would be fine, but this morning the rest of my family must still be asleep, oblivious to the plans for my day.

I listen for any signs of life in the house but hear nothing. My terrier, Roxy, is nestled in bed with me as usual. I ruffle the top of her head and her ears. She rests her head against my rib cage and my throat gets thick at the thought of leaving her behind. I cant take her with me though. The plan is for Dylan to pick me up after I let Roxy outside, that way she wont bark and try to follow me out of the house. When I let her out in the morning, she quickly pees and then stretches out on the patio, enjoying the morning sun. We usually leave her out there until she barks to come in, which is at least a half-hour later, and by then I should be long gone.

I went to bed at ten last night. Way earlier than normal for a Friday night especially since its family movie night and we usually dont get started until late in the evening, but the plans for the day had me restless and I couldnt seem to focus on anything but what we were going to do.

You feeling okay, sweetie? my mom had asked. Youre still coughing. Id had this cough and cold for a couple of weeks now. Although I wasnt feeling great, I was thankful for the diversion. I could just say I was sick and head to my room to finish all the last-minute preparations.

Yeah, Im good, I assured her. Just tired. I think Im going to head to bed early.

Dad entered the room with a large bowl of popcorn and a stack of napkins. My twelve-year-old brother Mark was waiting for us to join him, his hand on the remote control. The opening credits of a movie were on the TV screen and everyone was about to settle in to watch it together.

Annika, youre not going to watch the movie with us? Disappointment washed over him. I rolled my eyes a bit. I was seventeen years old and Dad still wanted me to be his little girl, joining in excitedly on any family activity. Hed be happy if I was still coming over for movie night at forty. Mom came toward me and kissed me on the forehead.

You feel a bit warm, honey, she said.

Nah, Im good, I assured her. I just need some sleep.

Mom stared at me for a moment. Maybe we should check your temperature?

Im sure its fine, I said, brushing her off.

Okay, well, get some sleep and if you need anything

Yeah, I know. Thanks, Mom.

See you in the morning. Id already left the room, and her parting words cut through me. I wouldnt see her in the morning. Little did she know that if everything went as planned, Id be long gone before the rest of my family woke for the day. The truth was I didnt know when Id see them again. Although I was excited for the adventure before Dylan and me, leaving my family behind made me ache.

The last few months had gotten really rocky between us though, and I knew they wouldnt understand. They wanted to keep me from the very thing I wanted the most a future with Dylan.

When I got to my room, I quickly shut the door behind me and got down on my hands and knees to pull the backpack out from under my bed. It was bulging, the zipper barely able to close. How do you know what to pack when youre about to walk out of your life as you know it? What do you take when youre making a new life with someone you love, but when doing so means leaving everything youve ever known behind?

My phone vibrated. It was Dylan, texting me.

cant wait for tomorrow. love u babe. 9:52 p.m.

I reply:

Love you too. 9:53 p.m.

My heart surged at his words. I could feel his excitement through the phone. Dylan is such a passionate guy, always wearing his heart on his sleeve and coming up with grand ideas for our life together. He gives so much to everything he wants to do that his enthusiasm is contagious.

I know well have a good life together that he loves me more than anything.

I pressed my hand to my forehead I supposed I did feel a bit warm. Maybe trying to get a good nights sleep would be the best thing for me, so I could wake feeling energetic and ready for the day. I shoved my backpack back under my bed and did a last-minute swoop of my room for anything I might want to bring. I shivered as I studied my room and drank in all of its contents. I rubbed my arms, my heart heavy. This nine-by-ten-foot room that had been my haven for all of my seventeen years, with its pale yellow walls and flowery bedspread. The lace curtain panels on either side of my window, which I had requested from my grandmothers house after she passed. Bits of scotch tape remained on my walls from when I had posters hung up. I still had posters of Adam Levine (my celebrity crush) and Bruno Mars (my favourite singer) but Id long removed the others, thinking I was getting too old to have posters tacked on my walls, covering them like wallpaper. My bulletin board had ticket stubs from the concerts Id been to, a photo of me holding car keys in the air (the day I got my licence), and the honour roll certificates Id received for grades nine, ten, and eleven. The shelves above my desk held my soccer trophies going back to when I was little, and my two favourite stuffies LuLu, a honey-coloured bear with only one eye and half of the stuffing missing that Id had since I was two, and a plush neon-pink smiley face with dangly arms and legs that Dylan had won for me at the fair.

Id miss this room. Maybe wed get settled somewhere and Mom and Dad would warm to the idea of Dylan again, see that we really loved each other and that wed be staying together for good. Then we could visit and Id get to see my other things again.

I settled into my bed, cuddled into my comforter, and wiped a tear from my cheek. Although I couldnt wait to start a life with Dylan, I couldnt help but feel sad at what I was leaving behind. If only my parents had a different opinion of Dylan. If only they supported us being together, then we wouldnt have felt like we had to run away.

My phone vibrates at 6:05 a .m. Another text from Dylan. This time its a photo of the two of us that Dylan took on the Ferris wheel at the fair. My long dark hair is blowing softly in the breeze, the lights of the amusement park and the city glowing behind us. Dylan has his other arm around me, pulling me close, and hes kissing my cheek. Im smiling from ear to ear, feeling every ounce of his love in that moment. This is why Im leaving. Because Dylan makes me feel like no one else. Because Dylan loves me. Because Dylan is my future.

I brush my hair and pull it back into a ponytail and only pull my hair halfway through the last twist of the elastic. I apply a bit of eyeshadow and blush and my signature lip gloss shell pink, its called. Knowing well be in the car for a long time, I decide on black yoga pants and my Aeropostale hoodie. Its all about comfort today.

My heart flutters a bit at the thought of being alone with Dylan for so long. Even though weve been dating for six months already, weve really only been able to see each other for a couple of hours at a time. I usually have a few shifts a week at Shoppers Drug Mart and then theres cheerleading practice and dance well, that is until I quit a couple of months ago. My parents were so upset when they found out I wasnt going to go anymore.

Youve been dancing since you were three! my mom practically shrieked. You