Unveiling The Sky
Authors: Jeannine Allison
Unveiling The Sky
Jeannine Allison
Unveiling The Sky
Copyright © 2016 Jeannine Allison
Edited By: Stephanie Parent
Cover Design © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations for a book review.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
To all those fighting invisible demons,
keep fighting.
Author’s Note
Before you start this novel I’d like to address an affliction affecting the female protagonist, Alara Black. Alara, like many, myself included, suffers from major depression.
Depression is a very serious mood disorder affecting nearly 350 million people worldwide. It is a very personal and varied experience and even with the label of “depression” binding us together, there is still so much that is unknown about this disorder, and each and every person is affected differently.
That being said, I wanted to address my own experience with it…
It is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to admit, and admitting it here and being vulnerable to complete strangers is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done. But pretending it doesn’t exist isn’t helping anyone, in fact, I think ignoring it for so long did the most harm.
The first time I remember thinking “something’s not right” I was at a baseball game with a group of friends. I was eighteen years old and on the verge of graduating high school. I didn’t understand then that this would be a lifelong struggle, and in an effort to be “normal,” to not be embarrassed by medication and needing help, I ignored it.
One of my goals in writing this novel was to relay my experience and hopefully help others make sense and accept his/her own struggles. Alara’s experience comes entirely from my own. Some may relate to these feelings, and some may not. There is no wrong way to experience this horrible disorder. I am in no way an expert (doctor, scientist, etc…) on this disorder and my experience in no way encompasses the worst that depression has wreaked on a person’s life.
Unveiling The Sky
hits very close to home because many of Alara’s thoughts and struggles are ones I experienced myself. I wanted to convey the seriousness of this disorder while also showing that you can have depression and still be healthy. I have had some very low and dark times, but that doesn’t mean I’m perpetually in a state of apathy and sadness. There is still plenty of joy and laughter and promise in my life, even if there are days that finding those things are more difficult.
I thought writing it would be difficult, and at certain times it definitely was, but what I didn’t expect was the amount of freedom I felt after having finished. While it is still a part of my life that I will constantly have to work on, I feel more comfortable with it than I ever have before.
Ultimately, I hope this novel helps others as much as it has helped me. Even if only one person is helped, I will consider it a success. One of the greatest disservices to depression is silence. This is for anyone who needs a voice.
“You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.”
- Ernest Hemingway
If you or someone you know needs help please call,
1-800-273-8255
or visit
suicidepreventionlifeline.org
Glass rained down around me, blood dripping from my hand to the tile below. I tried to take a deep breath, but the air wasn’t there. My breaths grew louder, and with another cry, I slammed my bloody hand into the mirror. After that fourth hit the pain barely registered anymore, and I collapsed against the opposite wall. I watched myself disappear from the mirror as I slid down the wall until my butt hit the floor.
The knocks on my front door were getting louder, and my phone continued its insistent ringing. The only time it stopped was during the three-second intervals between calls when Naomi hung up and dialed again. I watched it vibrate across the counter until it teetered at the edge, precariously balancing, one shake away from crashing to the floor. Exhausted, I finally reached forward to answer it.
“Alara?” Naomi’s frantic voice shouted. “Open the door.”
“I-I’m tired,” I choked out on a sob.
“I know, honey. I know. Just… I need you to open the door.” The normal cheer was gone from her voice, replaced by undisguised panic and sorrow. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back as more tears ran down my face.
Ending the call without responding, I slowly got up, checking to make sure the towel was secured around me. I glanced down to see my long blonde hair was still dripping wet, the water trickling to mix with the blood. As I made my way to the front door, I glanced at the contents of my closet scattered about on my bedroom floor and wondered if this was my life now. Despair. Destruction. Pain. Exhaustion. The thunderous knocks from Naomi’s tiny hands ended as soon as I unlocked the door and stepped back. Not even a second later, she burst in, and her wide brown eyes took in my appearance.
“Oh God. What happened?”
“I’m just so,
so
tired, Naomi.” My shoulders sagged and my head dropped as I started crying harder. She was at my side in an instant, rubbing small circles on my back and telling me it was going to be okay.
“Alara…” she began softly. “I need you to tell me where the blood is coming from.” I looked down, taking note of the red streaks on my feet and legs. I wordlessly held up my left hand, which she quickly turned over and began examining. She was shifting her focus back and forth between my eyes and hand. “Shit. I think this needs stitches.”
I withdrew my hand and shook my head. “N-no. I don’t want to g-go anywhere,” I hiccupped as I cradled my hand to my chest.
“I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to. Sher’s already on her way over. She should be here any—”
“Fuck. What the hell happened? Is she okay?” Sherry’s voice sounded as she raced through the front door and slammed it behind her. Her burgundy hair was wild and curly around her flushed face, and her chest heaved under her Arizona Cardinals T-shirt, giving the impression she ran here.
Their voices became muddled as they moved me to the couch. I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing once more and stop my tears. I thought back to my childhood when I got in trouble for talking too much and laughing too loud, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it all changed. How could the happy child I was turn into
this
? I tried to think of the exact moment when I felt the change, the exact moment when simply waking up seemed like a chore, but I couldn’t. I opened my eyes to the white plaster above, only vaguely aware of Sherry and Naomi sitting on either side of me. As I continued to stare at the ceiling, I started counting and realized this had been going on for three years. I’d felt this despair, destruction, pain, and exhaustion for three freaking years, yet I’d done nothing about it. I constantly wrote it off, telling myself I’d be okay. I had time. It hadn’t broken me… until tonight.
“Alara.” Naomi’s voice became clearer, and I realized my tears had slowed and my breathing was more manageable. She came around and knelt directly in front of me before giving me a slight shake. “Alara,” she repeated.
I brought my head up and looked at her. She let out a relieved breath and sat next to me again before grabbing my uninjured hand and giving it a squeeze.
“Sher knows how to stitch you up. She left for the drugstore. She should be back in ten minutes.”
I nodded while my sorrow continued to subside and I slowly slipped into numbness. I turned my head into the back of the couch, feeling the rough texture against my forehead as the last of my cries disappeared. Naomi hugged me from the side and rested her head on my shoulder, all the while whispering, chanting, that everything would be okay. But for the first time in three years, I didn’t believe it, because when I closed my eyes, all I saw were more days just like this.
