The Drunk ~ The Suicide Attempt
As I stand in the kitchen screaming at my sister, fighting with her mercilessly, all I can feel is helplessness. I say things I could never really mean. I love Aowin more than anything, but she will never know that. Darcy had always been the one to bring peace between us. Since Darcy went to Kenya all we do is fight, we barely even know each other anymore. We can't even be in the same room alone for more than 10 minutes.
Just like every other fight we've ever had, Aowin stomped off and all of the terrible things I said rush back at me. I feel tears rush to my eyes and let my back slide down the wall. Sitting on the ground now, I let the thoughts rush through my head at lightning speed. What reasons do I have to live? What difference does it make? MY sister hates me, and with good reasons to do so. I'm terrible to her and everyone else around me. My dad couldn't care less about me, he never did. He could never put me above his addiction. I was always second place to him. Always. He ruined any self esteem I ever had, making it hard to find any friends my entire life, and even harder to stop myself from getting into situations like these. Standing here, contemplating suicide again and again. My mom on the other hand… I always felt like I was a disappointment too her, I can never be the daughter she deserves to have; I can never be enough for her.
Convincing myself, ?I get up and open the silverware drawer and pull out the first knife I can find, wrapping my fingers around the blue handle of the knife and pressing it to my chest, right between my breasts. I will myself to do it, I will myself to push the knife, to break skin at least. But all of a sudden two faces flash through my mind, making me have second thoughts on this rash decision. My best friends Mary and Michelle, how sad they would be, the tears they would shed, and the pain this would bring them. I then get the will power to pull the knife away from my chest, put it back into the drawer, and walk back to my room, tears threatening to spill the entire time.
I close the door of my room and let the tears fall, the hatred I fell for my father, how he made me feel this way, suicide was never something that strayed from my mind from the time that I first found out about my dad and his habits. It was never something new to me, always there, always waiting to strike out when I was upset and couldn't think straight. I hated him for what his habits make me feel and what they make me do, not for the acts themselves. He never understood, never understood why I hated him so, but this is why. These situations it puts me in. He could never tell what it did to me, and One day, I will be gone too early and he never will.
AN: Sorry this is SOO short, but I am changing this story majorly, because I thought the previous chapter was too unrealistic. I will try to update soon! Th8is story will be easier for me to write, as all of the things that are written in this story will be things that have happened in my own life, just through another character (Clare) I hope you enjoy, and see ya next time!