Kirsten watched Julie leave her office, watching the outside halls as well. As soon as the coast was clear, Kirsten reached into one of her drawers, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid. As the vodka washed down her throat, the sudden burning sensation caused her to instantly feel better. She had been thinking about Seth all day, and she was still trying to think of how she could talk to him about it, preferably before he spoke to Sandy. She took another long sip, which was just enough for her legs to feel tingly, and her head to feel fuzzy.
Stumbling up out of the chair, she packed her things into her bag, and fumbled around for her car keys.
"Leaving already Kiki?" her father asked, appearing at the door.
"Yeah, I am actually" she snapped, breezing past him.
After leaving work early, Kirsten drove home in quite a daze. She pulled into their driveway, and turned the car off. She walked up to the door, dropping her keys on the way. She picked them up, the world spinning when she lifted her head up again.
Once she was inside, she flopped down onto the couch. She was a failure. She was an alcoholic and she knew it. How could she have been so careless with her entire life? How could she not have noticed what was happening to her? All she wanted to do was sleep, but she had so much work to catch up on. She was falling further and further behind, but she was so drowsy at the moment. Getting off the couch to get some water, she gulped it down quickly. She walked upstairs to her room, heading straight for the bathroom, and coming back with exactly what she wanted.
She knew she shouldn't do it…
It was stupid, immature. It was something she used to do. It was a part of her life that she wasn't proud of…
And yet…she did it anyway.
Seth went straight home afterschool, despite Ryan's attempts to come out with him and the girls. He told them he felt sick, and to some extent…that was true. Seeing his mother's car in the driveway, he pulled a face. What was she doing home so early? He kind of wished she hadn't been there. He didn't feel like facing her.
He walked through the house, looking in the kitchen, then on the couch. He walked outside, but she wasn't there either. He dumped his bag in his room; then walked upstairs to see if she was there. Her door was half open, so without a second thought, he walked in.
"Hey Mom" he said to her back, seeing her sitting on the bed.
"Seth?" she said loudly jumping off the bed.
Seth noticed she automatically put her hands behind her back, and he knew she was trying to cover something.
"Mom..? What are you doing?"
"Nothing…" she rushed, still hiding her hands. "Give me a minute…I'll be down in a sec…"
"Mom…" he said, moving closer to her.
"Seth…I said I'll be down in a minute…" she said her pace and voice becoming quicker and louder. She didn't realize she was actually stepping backwards, moving away from him. Moving away from her own son!
But Seth wasn't going anywhere. As she put her hands further behind her back, he put his hand on her shoulder, trying to see what she was hiding. She struggled against him, but eventually he became too strong for her, and was able to pull her hands from behind her back.
He began to breathe deeply when he saw Kirsten's wrists. Both had a single slash on them, but the 2 cuts were bleeding heavily. And then he saw it. The thing that assured him he was right all along. The thing he had wished he wasn't going to see. The thing that assured him he wasn't dreaming anymore.
He seized the razorblade out of her hand, his eyes burning with tears. He wanted to cry. He just wanted to run away and cry, and that was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a very long time.
He watched as his mother broke down onto the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Still in shock, he simply stood there, a million thoughts pounding his brain.
"I'm sorry Seth. I'm so sorry" she whispered in between sobs.
Seth continued to stand there in shock, waiting for his body to do something. Looking at the floor, he stayed quiet, unsure of how to react.
"Please…Seth…look at me…" she reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled it back quickly. He gulped back the lump in his throat, and turned, leaving her alone. His eyes still burning with tears, he ran down the stairs, the razorblade still in his hand. He ran to his room, opening one of his drawers. Hiding the razor underneath his clothes, he slammed the drawer shut again, causing everything on top to fall to the ground. As he began to cry, he tried his best to hold it in. He didn't want to break down. Not here, not like his Mother had.
He headed outside hurriedly, crashing into a chair as he went. As he stumbled over it, he turned back to it, and picked it up, angrily throwing it to the floor. He was angry at her. So bloody angry he wanted to shake her. She had always been the strong one. She was his Mom for crying out loud! Storming angrily out, he took off down the street, heading for someplace where he knew he could calm down a bit.