Dustin (narration)
Essay title: Dustin (narration)
Composition One: Narration
I can remember receiving the news like it was yesterday even though it feels like a lifetime since I last heard Dustin’s high pitched laugh. It’s still hard for me to talk about his suicide.
Even though Dustin had angelic features, such as light green eyes, dark blonde hair, and a smile that would get him out of anything, he was no angel. I remember the time he shot the windows of the bus with his B.B. gun or the time he put a flower in the ditch then gave it to the bus driver. He wasn’t too fond of the bus driver.
He was always the first to try something new. when we went to San Antonio for vacation, there was a cliff that over looked the water and we were all scared to jump. Well, everyone except Dustin that is. I guess that’s the ironic part of his death, he was the first person almost everyone at school knew who had committed suicide.
It was no later than 10:30 when, I was sitting in my Health class. I just opened the Health book, was flipping through the pages and I wasn’t paying much attention to Coach Andree’ when the intercom came on.
“Coach Andree’,” the secretary announced.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Would you please send Dara Wilson to check out?”
“Sure will.” he responded.
I got up, packed my bag, and started walking out. I smiled at my friend Beau who said “you’re so lucky.” I had no clue why I was checking out, but I knew something wasn’t right. I started thinking of all the bad things that could have possibly gone wrong. I knew my brother went out the night before and he hadn’t come home when we left for school that morning, so I was worried about that. Maybe something had happened to him was all that was racing through my mind. I didn’t even notice that Dustin was absent that day. I walked up the hall to the office, a walk that was prolonged by the impatience of my curiosity. I wanted to know why I was leaving, especially so early in the school day. When I got to the office, I saw my Nanny Lisa there, all I could think was something was wrong with my mom or dad. I could read the sadness on the secretaries faces. Nanny Lisa was facing towards them and all I could see was her wavy fire red hair. Once she realized I was behind her, she turned to me and said the words that changed me forever, “Dustin shot himself this morning. Get in the car, we’re all going to the hospital.”
I was in shock, I didn’t know what to say. As I climbed in the car, I sat next to my cousin Blair, Nanny Lisa’s daughter. She knew Dustin better than any of us in the car. They lived next door to each other for five years and were boyfriend and girlfriend for two of those years. Blair said nothing to me. Her dark green eyes were filled with tears and all I could say was “Don’t worry Blair, its all going to be ok. When Dustin gets out of the hospital, you should give him a big kiss.” That brought a smile to her face.
While in the hospital I remember going see Dustin’s Mom, Mrs. Cindy. She was the one who found his body lying on the floor with a puddle of blood under him, a gun by him and a pillow near his body. This was the same woman who would call her husband to come home from work to clean up vomit, or to change the children’s diapers because she had such a weak stomach. She was in her own room in the hospital, they had to give her heavy medication to relax her, and even then she wasn’t relaxed. “Dara, Oh God Dara,” is all I can remember her saying. That was the first