I had made a big mistake.

If I could just spend one minute with her and tell her I was sorry...

I had too much fun with friends. We would go out at night and we would do the stupidest things. We would drink alcohol almost every night, getting drunk and wasted. My friends even brought drugs, and we took them every few nights.

Every night I would get home at two, three, even four in the morning.

One night, I got home a bit early, and by early I mean at ten.
After a few minutes my mom came in my room. I was instantly annoyed. I didn't need her sadness infecting my life!

        "Marcus, could we talk? Please?" She asked.
Mom! Could you please get out of my room? You annoy me!" And with that I slammed the door.

And in that second that I slammed the door I noticed something that I would only realize later. When I shut  the door, a series of emotions flit across my mothers face. She had a mix of surprise and sadness on her face, then defeat, then nothing but the door that was between us. Little did I know that would be the last time I saw her.
The next day the eleventh grade took a trip to Key West for three days. I didn't want to be infected by my mothers sadness, so I walked
out of the house to school without Mom. The school was a few blocks away.
We took a bus down. The drive was about six hours.
That night, I received a call from the school in the hotel room. Me and my friends had had an awesome day at the park the school went to. Did we do something wrong?
Once I answered, I immediately noticed the tone of his voice, and my face fell. I wasn't in trouble. What had happened?
"Marcus," the man began slowly. "I don't know how to tell you this, but..." he paused.
"What?" I said, my heart beating fast.
"Your," he paused again. "Your mother's dead, Marcus."
I dropped the telephone. Nothing mattered right then. The stares of my roommates. The beep of the phone. The sound of kids laughing in other rooms.

I ran out of my room. Down the stairs. Out of the hotel. Tears were streaming down my face. I didn't care that I was 16.

        The pain of grief in my chest spread through my hands and to my mouth. I clenched my teeth so hard they almost broke, but that didn't matter; I tore up the grass and let all my pain escape. I cried, "Mom! I'm sorry! You just wanted to talk to me but what did I do? I slammed the door in your face!"

        I had threw away my life! For WHAT? To get high?

       The last thing I said to her... was 'you annoy me.' If only I'd done differently... she would die knowing that I love her...