I slid down the banister and bolted into the kitchen. I smile grabbing the sandwich on the counter. I open my mouth wide but stop and look at the ingredients on the counter. Hm... some ham, tomatoes, lettuce, mayo, oh and rat poison. If only dad could see how crazy mom gets when he's not around to remind her to take her meds. Even going so far as to kill her own child. Mom is sick. Dad has been telling me this since I was little. But I don't see how a person who is meant to be a caregiver, a provider, could go so far as to end the life which they have created. Mom's Sick Hezaa, well then Hezaa is sick too. It's hard when Dad goes on his business trips. Mom doesn't take her pills, and then Hezaa becomes the monster. He's gone for a month, and I already have to deal with the attempts at murder my mother throws at me.
Yeah. I am sick, i am suicidal. Not a day goes by that i don't think of a million ways to hurt myself. I am already a cutter. I probably need medication, therapy, a good dose of the shocks. But having urges to throw yourself off roofs or hang myself from the balcony, is not something you tell all your friends. It's nothing to brag about like "Oh look at my new cut its sooo much bigger than yours." No it's not a good thing it's a stupid thing. But once you start its hard to ever stop. I need these marks.
I dump the sandwich into the trash can. Shit, I have that itch again. I have done something wrong by not eating the sandwich mom worked so hard to make. My presence is causing her pain. My existence is a burden to her. I am better off dead. And it hurt that i am so unwanted, unloved. Just an ugly little girl in my mother's eye's. I am nothing, I am no one. I deserve death, I need death. Then Mommy would be happy. No ugly little demon will exist, then Mommy will be happy.
...I have to kill myself.
I always think of shit like this but this time it was different. I had determination, the courage to end my life. I slowly walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs, savoring my final moments on this Earth. I knew exactly how I want to do it. I need to submerge myself. I need to lay in the cool pools of water and watch the blood swirl around me. It would be an ugly sight for Father to see when he gets home. Two weeks from now my body will look disgusting, the water will be thick, the room will smell like death and misery. My poor father, my dear sweet father, it's his fucking fault for leaving me.
I slid into my room and change into my bathing suit. No way was I going to be found in the nude. I pull down my hair and let it fall to my shoulders. I then examine my features in the mirror.
My hair is long and dark brown like a chestnut, although to me it looked more like mud. Tints of almost unnatural reds seem to illuminate in streaks throughout it. My eyes are a strange almost greenish gold color. No life or spark in them at all. I examine my arms, red cuts travel all up the front of my skinny arms. My legs shake from the cold of the house. My bathing suit is all black, with the exception of my red straps. I look pale, almost like a dead person. Except I'm breathing like some living zombie freak.
Mom is screaming from downstairs, her cries echoing all around me, she must have found the sandwich. I stand in the center of my room and listen as she barrels up the stairs and begins to slam herself against my door, screaming like a mad woman.
"You fucking monster!" she cries, "Where the fuck is my daughter, what have you done to her! Why do you have her face you fucking thief, you murderer!"
I cringe and bite at my lip, feeling the tears come. She knows just what to say to make me cry, fucking bitch I hate her! She hates me, why does she hate me. If I'm dead then maybe she would love me? Is that what I have to do for love, die? The screaming continues and I finally feel a bubble of rage rise from my stomach, I walk to my door and slam on it and scream like some feral monster, just like mother thinks I am. As the scream dies on my throat I listen to her whimpers as she begins to cry quietly for the return of her real little girl.
I whimper, turning away from my door. I slip into the bathroom closing the door gently behind me. I walk over to the tub and turn on the water; i plug up the drain and wait. The water rises slowly. Maybe I should write Daddy a note?
I enter back into my room and search around my desk until I find a bright orange sharpie. I look upon my bare wall next to the bathroom and place the uncapped writing utensil against it:
Dear Father,
I'm sorry for doing this but i couldn't take it any longer. This way mommy will be happy. I'm sorry about the smell, but if I light candles I could start a fire. Please know I love you,
Hezaa
I let the sharpie slip from my grip, it clatters to the floor. It feels real this time, I am about to go to my death, to my grave, to sleep. Sleep, I like the thought of that better. I'm just going to take a little nap in the tub, no harm in that. When I return to the bathroom the tub is full. I stop the water and slip inside, hissing as the water burns at my pale skin. I sit in the tub, taking in the warm water. My skin is bright red, I must look like a lobster, as if I'm cooking. I let the thought slip and turn to look at the bath mat beside the tub. I reach out and throw it away. Underneath I have a scalpel from art class. The little blade I had come to admire came home with me. To think it could create such beauty, and so much death.
It had been my companion since my freshman year, and now it would bring about my demise. I lightly kiss the blade, then I place it against my criss crossed wrists. Slowly I drag it up my arm. I gasp and almost gag as the blood begins to flow like water. The drops fall slowly, creating cascades of red, it's beautiful, my little blade in its cold destruction makes such lovely art with my body. I repeat the process, giggling as the red falls more and swirls into such lovely patterns. How wonderful, if death is this fun why haven't I tried it before?
My question is answered when a sudden dead chill goes up my spine. I feel cold, yet the water is steaming. I feel weak; I slip deeper into the water. My vision grows blurry, everything fuzzy. God this is terrible, why did I do this? This isn't fun anymore. Mom is screaming again, banging on the door, telling the monster to let her poor girl go. Well Mom, the monster is letting her go. Life is letting me go.
"Heh i did it Mommy." I chuckle grimly then I shut my eyes.
I wake up, which is strange. I always thought you just appear. Heaven, or hell, isn't what I expected it to be. Its noisy here, lots of blips and beeps, and a lot of white. Ok so maybe this is heaven, which does explain the glowing at the edges of my eyes, but not the noises. I would expect harps or something. I open my eyes fully and see I am looking up at a lamp, which is making an irritating buzzing sound over head. Oh shit, please don't tell me. I try to sit up but find that I've been strapped down to my bed. I begin to panic, feeling air rush into my lungs. I struggle, hearing a beeping increase as I fight against my binds. I feel two hands on my shoulder pushing me back against the mattress. I whip my head around to see my father looming over me. He looks tired, his face unshaven, his brown hair looking grayer than I have ever seen it. His green eyes, hidden behind a set of glasses are filled with pain. I stop struggling and feel tears pooling in my eyes.
"Daddy?" I whisper, feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden.
"You gave me a scare sweetie." He chokes, a smile trying to work its way onto his face, his arms slip down to his sides and he sits down on the edge of my bed, "You're lucky."
"Why?" I mumble.
"I came home early." He sighs, "I had a hunch."
"Daddy, I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."I begin to sob.
Dad leans forward and brings me into an awkward hug. It's hard to hug back when I am strapped down to a bed.
"It's ok sweetie, I know this isn't your fault. We're going to get you help ok?" He whispers, "Raising you in an environment like that, I should have known it could have caused some problems for you."
"I thought Mommy would be happy if I was dead."
"Mommy is confused honey; she doesn't see the way we do. No one will be happy if you die Hezaa, especially not me, I love you. And I am going to get you help."
"Help?"
"You're going to go away for a little while honey. It will be like a vacation from Mom, kind of like camp."
"I stopped wanting to go to camp when I was fifteen Daddy." I say, he chuckles at me.
"I know, you're all grown up, but that doesn't mean a seventeen year old can't take a vacation."
"Where am I going?" I ask.
"A place where you will be safe."
My safe place turned out to be Konoha Mental Hospital. A vacation from mom was right, I have been here for eight months. Dad visits every weekend possible, always bringing me books, colored pencils, chocolate, all the things that make me happy. Sometimes I am in a good mood. And other times I scream and call him horrible things for putting me here. Sometimes I cry, because I miss seeing him every morning. But he just takes it in stride, because he knows I'm sick, just not as sick as my mother. She is in a ward now. In a hospital in Suna, far away from me. Dad still loves her, but he tells me he loves me more. Mom is a lost cause. But if I am her daughter, could I be a lost cause too?
From the hospital I have meet people; I have made friends, who understand me. My best friend is named Konan. She is wonderful, but she doesn't like to open up. The dorm we live in is called Akatsuki, the adults Jounin and the kids, Academy. I even learned a little about my new friend's pasts. One girl in particular has a more interesting past, maybe because her reason for being here isn't due to abuse or neglect. She lives a few rooms down with another girl named Ino, her name is Sakura.