I woke up the next morning looking at the door of my shared bedroom with Bella, whom was still asleep, I laid there with a dead mind and just staring for a while. I closed my eyes when I sensed Charlie coming to check in and I kept them closed when he left, I fell back to sleep not too long after that.

I fell into despondence sleep with an aching chest and then I woke up in an empty bedroom, waking up from my repeated dreams. Nana's words were all too fresh in my mind from the party, I couldn't understand why she didn't care. I couldn't understand why she didn't love me, why she never took the chance to love me. What was so wrong with me that she hated me? What was so wrong with me that they hated me so much to get rid of everything of my family? Why did they hate me so much to be so mean to me? I crumpled up my pillow to my head and closed my eyes at the hot tears streaming down my face and sob choking out of my throat. Why did it seem like anything that I tried to do was never good enough? Why wasn't I good enough?

Why did Caiden have to do this? Why did he have to die? Why did he have to leave me to endure this all by myself? If he hadn't killed himself, I wouldn't be here, and Mom and Dad would still be alive. Why was I thinking so selfishly? I wanted to scream, I wanted to throw things but I cried harder into my pillow.

Why did they have to die? Why did they leave me? Why was everyone leaving me? Why am I not good enough?

What was so wrong with me that I wasn't good enough to be loved? Cared for? What did I do that was wrong? I couldn't come up with anything but the memories throughout the years of their treatment and the strain it put on the family. But it was all me, it had all been because of me, because of my life.

I remembered how I felt that day. The day of the accident. The irritation and the self-loathing, Mom had been hopeful and Dad had been for a split second. I felt guilty and anger with myself for being irritated with them, but they never knew Caiden was suffering. The hole in my chest ripped open with fury, burning and clouding my mind with thoughts of self-loathing and self-sabotage. I decided then that if I truly was a bad person, then disconnecting for everyone would be better. I didn't want anyone to want me. I didn't want anyone to care enough to want me.

Not until I felt like I deserved it.

What if you do deserve it? That questioned deadened my brain and cleared the sobs from my throat, soothing me as I looked at the window.

I didn't know what it was then. My chest began to swell with warmth, like the question was mending all of my deepest wounds as I thought about all the love and care I use to get. The love and care in my brothers words and actions when he defended me, when he comforted me to remind me who I was. Caiden would've asked me that question.

What if I do deserve it? And I know what Caiden would say for an answer. He would tell me that I needed to get up, I need a shower and eat, he would tell me to get my player and go for a run. So, without thinking, I did that.

I showered, I ate, and I went out for a run. The sky was threatening with future rain and by my calculation after three blocks that it was going to be raining before I got home. I put my hands on my waist, panting and gasping for breath, I looked at the small patches of forest and neighboring houses. My heart my thudding against my ribcage and I couldn't believe now out of all times I decided to listen to Caiden's past advice. But then I wished I didn't, I dropped my hands onto my knees and started crying on the side of the road.

The sky was dark grey, the glass of the window had raindrops splattering against it. The clock in my peripheral came into view as I turned my head slightly towards the window, zoning out. I laid there for a while before I got up.

I looked up at the trees lining the dead-end road at the end of Charlie's street, the forest looked so inviting. No one was home and they wouldn't notice how long I'd be gone if I decided to accept the forest's invitation. No one would miss me. I tried to convince myself that what Bella said about caring for me was the truth to my toxic mental, I walked… I don't know how long I walked around in the forest for but the sky was dark by the time I realized how long and the stiffness of my frigid fingers. But her words came back to me. I huddled down right there in the dark and sobbed like a baby, that dark cloud was amplified by the darkness around me.

Maybe there truly was nothing out there for me. Maybe I really was just a lost cause. Maybe Nana was right, maybe it shouldn't have been Caiden in the bathtub. Maybe it should have been me.

And then just like an exploding light bulb, I walked back to the house. I walked around the kitchen looking for what I needed. Ignoring the shrill ringing of the phone as I bustled around I found it and I went upstairs to the bathroom. I turned on the shower but I didn't get in. I can still hear the phone ringing. I sat on the floor with my legs bending to my chest, I took a shaking inhale through my mouth.

I didn't want to do this but I really wanted everything to end. I put the blade to the inside of my left wrist and put pressure on it, it punctured my skin like paper. The stinging, red hot pain of my flesh being sliced open didn't stop me. Blood pooled out of my arms, dripping onto the linoleum as I dropped the bloody knife and pain racked through my body. My eyelids drooping as I heard my name being yelled by voices I knew well. My vision went black and my ears were muffling from the shower running and the blood escaping my body. I heard the door slam against the wall and a shriek before I felt ice cold hands on my arms.

The voice calling my name was going incoherent and something wrapping around my arms tightly. Even if they tried to save me… I knew that this was the end of me… and I wanted it more than anything. I wanted death to envelope me into its empty cold embrace and bring me into its peaceful abyss. I wanted this to be the end of me.

But then I experienced the same thing I experienced that day. The same day I lost my parents. The incoherent words and faces of people as I was taken to the hospital. The white lights invading my hazy vision were all too familiar. And I began to cry.

"It's okay, sweetheart. You're okay now. We're going to help you."

No, no, I don't want help. I just want to die. Just let me go.