I looked down, at the keyboard, contemplating several things… fall down the stairs? Cut my wrists with a knife? Call someone to talk to about the way I feel? No… I couldn't call anyone because all my friends were in school, unlike me, and there was no one in my family I trusted. My father was accused of rape, and while I believe every person is capable of such vile acts, he was not capable of doing so. He may not have been faithful in the past once, but that was once, and never with a minor, let alone family. It's what put me and my sister, Amelia so far away from one another. She had moved out, long ago with an asshole boyfriend, and now it's just me and mother. Living with my brother, because we had moved a lot, I was not able to attend school of any kind. Online, or public. I don't even have a job to be honest, but I tried, I really did try to get into school. What held me back from going? Mother.
"Madeline, can you help me with the groceries?" I wiped the tears from my eyes, and quickly made myself presentable, and walked down the stairs to the basement.
I refused to tell mother how I felt. My girlfriend, Maria, she told me before that whenever I felt that way to call her but I couldn't call her. We had all ready had this talk yesterday, when I nearly had a breakdown because I could not enter school for this year. I'm eighteen, and here in the state of Pennsylvania, that I am aware of, I can attend school until I turn twenty one. The year I turn twenty one, I can finish school, but I can no longer go. With my school history, I had two years left to finish, and that gave me three years if I was allowed to enter this year, allowing a little room for mistake, like I was so prone to in my school history. I had to repeat a class in high school, and I had to go to summer school before. Other classes were narrow escape of summer school or I barley passed because of mid-term and final exams. It's why I was trying to get into school this year, I had the registration papers, but I was not allowed to fill them out, because of the simple fact that Mother wanted to find out how she had to register me. In other words, register me in the district first before filling these papers out, or could she just fill these papers out, and they register me into the district. I knew what to do, but kept my mouth shut because I knew how mother was. Yesterday, when I nearly had a breakdown, having giving up, mother told me beforehand, she couldn't register me because registration was over in November, so while mother was at work, on her way home, I had broke down and cried, realizing, there was no point in going to school. It gave me no room for mistake, and it was all her fault. Now don't get me wrong, it's my fault too, because with being eighteen, I should have taken matters into my own hand, but no, still being a young person, I had to follow mother's orders. Now I regret it all, and now every moment I want to harm myself, run off on my own but if I ran off, where was I to go? I didn't really know anybody.
Mother for the past few months before I found the online school I wished to go to, kept trying to get me to just get my GED, but I refused, saying I have to get my Diploma. But the past week or so, I realized, that yes I had promised my father I would get my Diploma, but I resent my father. Amelia was never a trustworthy child to mother and father, all ways lying, sneaking off. I ran away once, because I thought it was from being hit, because of discipline but thinking back now, it was never the hitting. It was my sister all along. My sister because I was thrown into her shadow. I wanted to join ROTC, but couldn't because with my sister in it, my parents assumed you had to suck some guys dick to get up in rank. Every friend I knew who was in the program, did normal every day stuff and got high in ranks, never having to enter in any sexual conduct.
Mother had all ready admitted, I was the better of her children, in other words, I was her favorite, but lately I don't think I'm her favorite. The past week, since I made the discovery of how I felt about my family, and mom telling me she couldn't register me because registration was up in November, by the end of November, now being December 8, I realize, I'm hating my mother too. My brother I don't care much for. Nothing against him, but nothing for him either. I can't trust talking to him, and anymore, if you can't trust your own family, and can't talk to your friends, who can you turn to?
When I was in the 8th grade, I was sent to the crisis center for cutting, when I had all ready stopped, but they didn't believe me, the school forcing me to attend. I didn't mind, it was a whole week of peace. Had trouble sleeping at night, and I stayed up, hoping to see Dad go by since the Crisis center was on his way to work, but I never saw the truck. Not even any of the vehicles. I was depressed then, and just blamed it on doing the chores and such, because at that time I was the only one who did them. Sister had left shortly before I went to the crisis center. Now, I'm grateful she never came, same with Father. He came to one visit, saying because he was tired and couldn't visit because of work. Didn't he care to come and see me? Care enough to put some time aside, to forget the yard work to come see me? No, because to come see me, must have been a slap in the face to him. Mother said he had cried when I gave him his birthday card. Two days away and he cried. He knew it was his fault, because he did try and pay more attention to me, but iw asn't having none of it. The only time me and him spent time together was when me or him was playing word whomp, or some word game, or when he played Poppit because it was fun to help him play. We never did anything together fun. He never came with me to the malls when I wanted to, he never took me for truck rides, but my older siblings did. I was the forgotten child, and most of the times I loved it, but lately, it's getting lonlier and lonlier, because I can't talk to anyone anymore.
I picked up the groceries, it was five bags, so I carried them all in, and sat them either on the bed in the basement, or carried them all the way up and placed them on the counter. I sat right back at the computer and stared at the screen blankly, deciding to just play a game of solitare. It's too late now to do anything about the way I feel. Mother's home, and she came up. I asked for the pink phone, which she gave me, and asked what was wrong. I gave a fake smile, "Nothing. I'm fine, just a slight temperature. I think I'm sick again." It wasn't a complete lie. I was just sick, and while it was just my throat now, I could still pull off the slight temperature. I didn't spend ten years of my life, playing with imaginary friends, to not be able to fake a few things here and there, and only when I absolutely wanted to.
People, who are the real religious freaks, who take the religion to a whole new level and are extreme with it, will tell you, God will only give you what you can handle. I once heard, If God didn't love you, he gave you a rough life. I'm an Athiest, I don't believe in god or any religion persay. I liked Wicca, it seemed interesting, but I don't know the holidays or how to join a "cult" as they called it.
After beating the game, I sighed. I couldn't live with this life anymore. God only gave me what I could handle right? Well I've had all that I can handle, so it must be time for me to go right? I think so. I walked into the kitchen, and closed the basement door, noting that mother had gone back down. I walked to the computer, turned the music up, and sent a text to my Maria, my girlfriend,
'No matter what happenes, it's not your fault. I love you so much maria. Don't ever forget that.'
I picked up the knife, and with shaky hands I held it to my throat, but I couldn't do it, so I held the knife in front with both hands, blade pointed at me. I heard the phone go off, and saw that it was Maria but chose to ignore it, and plunged the knife into my heart, crying out in pain.
Mother must have heard me because she ran up the stairs, and screamed for me, and quickly grabbed the phone, dialing 911. She moved around, trying to put preassure on the wound and I smiled, as she tried to tend to me. Rush hour was coming soon, the ambulance would never make it in time, and I gave a choky laugh. "Now… I can live in peace… forever resting and not… in… hell…