Dead – like a candle you burned out!
AN: WARNING! This story is quite depressing, contains self-harm and the topic death! Don't read if you're easily triggered ^^"
I walk into her bedroom, not really feeling anything or knowing what I'm doing. I stand in front of her bed for what feels like hours. I'm lost in the memory, remembering what she looked like, lying there, skin white as snow, body cold as ice. Dead. I lie down on the bed smelling her pillow. It's as if she's still here, the smell of her favourite perfume still lingering in the room. I move to get up put am overwhelmed by a flashback.
[Flashback]
"Mom? I'm home!" Silence. I walk further into the apartment, not liking the eerie feeling it gives me. I know she's home since her car is outside.
"Mom? Where are you?" I call out, the fear in my voice clear as day. I walk into the living room, check the balcony, then the bathroom and the kitchen. I feel like throwing up as panic overcomes me. Last but not least I check her bedroom. I open the door slightly.
"Mom? You asleep?" I know that that's not possible since she has very light sleep and usually wakes up as soon as I open the front door. Nothing could have ever prepared me for what I saw. My mother lying in her bed, looking peaceful as if she was sleeping, but I knew better. I walk towards her very slowly.
"No, mom. Don't do this to me…" I whisper. "Come on mom… wake up…" I put my hand on hers slightly and flinch away. Cold. I start crying silent tears and caress her cheek. I pull back suddenly, as if waking up from a dream I realize what this means. I scream a high pitched scream and fall over backwards. "No! This is NOT true!" I whimper and push myself to the furthest wall, away from her body. I scream again. "No! God, no! Bring her BACK!" I cry harder while screaming out. "Please…"
Panic takes over and I scramble to my feet, taking nothing with me and running out the door.
[End Flashback]
I zoom back into reality and get up. I walk into my room and find my pack of cigarettes. I know it's contradicting since my mom always preached to never smoke in the apartment. I light it anyway. Since she's gone, I don't particularly care about anything anymore. I walk back in her room and sit on the floor next to the door. I smoke my cigarette and think back to what happened after I ran out on the scene. My neighbours had called the police because of my screaming and trashing the place – which I couldn't remember- and the police had then somehow managed to call my oldest brother. They quickly found out that I had found my mom and had ran out to which my brother drove around for hours, trying to find me. He never told me how long it took him to find me, but at the end he did. I was at the skate park, blasting Of Mice And Men while screaming and crying my eyes out. What I don't remember is that I almost froze to death if he'd turned up a little later. Two weeks after I found her, we attended the funeral which my aunt organized. I hadn't attended school, didn't go to therapy and in fact I just didn't leave the house. Depression and anxiety got the best of me. I was surprised that I hadn't killed myself yet, much less started cutting again. Everyone told me to at least go to therapy, but I wasn't ready to talk to anyone at the time. I'm still not. Everyone knows that I'm a mess, I had cut before, which was part of the reason I went to therapy. My therapist also said I have a tendency to Borderline, which wasn't much of a shock to me, since I always knew that there was something wrong with me. So the death of my mom is definitely not something I'd handle well. People thought I'd need someone to look after me and they had made that clear to me at her funeral. It was one big mess.
[Another Flashback]
"I'm so sorry" I hear a female voice in front of me say sadly. It's one of my cousins. I thought I had made it clear that I don't want their pity. I look up from the floor and stare her in the eyes. She flinches. That's right. Flinch at the pain you see in my eyes.
"You have no idea what it's like!" I hiss bitterly sharp. I stare at her eyes for a few more seconds until I turn away and walk to my brothers. I stand between them with my oldest brother to my right and the other one to my left. They each take one of my hands and squeeze them for support. I know without looking at them, that they're crying silent tears and I soon join in, lost in distant memories. I don't even get a five minutes of undisrupted crying as I hear two female voices whispering behind us somewhere.
"Who's gonna take care of her? She can't handle this, she's a mess!"
"I know.. we should probably put her in a psychiatry… I heard she found her.." I don't hear any more as rage and frustration consumes me. I turn around sharply, my tears of sadness now turning to tears of anger and frustration.
"SHUT! UP! What is WRONG with you? I can take fucking care of myself! Just SHUT the FUCK UP!" I yell at them, growling in between and I feel tension in my body building, ready to jump at anyone. They look at me in shock and the expressions make me want to punch them in the face. I feel a strong hand on my shoulder and my cousin and aunt look away in shame. Once they look away I cry harder, my vision gets even blurrier and I feel my body getting weak. Someone pulls me in a bone crushing hug and by the smell I know that it's my middle brother. I hug back tightly and cry my eyes out quietly. My oldest brother rubs my back and they both mumble soothing words. I don't catch what they're saying because I pass out shortly after.
[End Flashback]
The funeral is now two weeks ago, meaning her death is already a month ago. It still feels like I found her here yesterday and the pain is still as strong as before. I get up and walk into the kitchen. My cigarette had burned out while I was lost in thoughts. I put it out and just stand there in the middle of the kitchen. I catch a glimpse of something metallic and can't hold myself back. I open the drawer almost in trance and get out a small knife. I threw away my blades some time ago; I thought I had overcome my cutting habit, but I'm in desperate need of distraction of this immense pain. The knife has a smooth black handle and a small blade. I'm not used to using knifes. Too high risk of cutting too deep and hitting a vein. I don't really care at this point, so I hold the knife in my hand carefully and go in my room. I feel like I'm in a déjà vu, everything feels unreal the way it always did when I cut. Everything is blurry and I focus on the blade of the knife. The unreal feeling disappears once I feel the cool blade on my wrist. I hiss at the sensation and close my eyes for a second. I focus back on the blade and slowly slide it across my skin, breaking it and making the blood pool in the fresh cut. I don't cut deep. Only to feel a little pain and to see a little blood.
I watch in awe as the blood pools in the cut and it starts to sting. I close my eyes again and dwell on the feeling for a few seconds before opening my eyes again and making a few more cuts. I never realize the tears staining my cheeks, or the front door opening, or the pool of blood on the couch, staining it. I only notice the burning sensation on my wrist and myself feeling dizzy. Must've cut too deep. I focus on my wrist for a second and see the blood pouring out. Yup cut too deep. The next thing I know is the smell of blood overwhelming me, me almost passing put and my brother screaming my name.
AN: I know this is depressing and I'm sorry for all the bloody details (literally) but I had to get this out there, I had this on my mind for weeks now, since I found out some stuff about my mom and my grandma… I wrote it out of frustration and my mind took me places ^^" let's just say there's a tough time coming up.. btw I was planning to keep this as a one-shot, but I have another story planned and could use this as the beginning of it ^^ tell me if you'd like me to continue it/make it a prequel to the next story or keep it like this.