I sit in the living room shaking. He has left me. My father has gone. He left six days ago saying he was going to pick up something. In the meantime I just sit and wait. The first day I thought he would be back but the next day but he still never came. I had sat in this dark living room for days.
I looked up at the black television screen. I could see my reflection. My eye was a yellowish green fading bruise, my face a massive mess of scratches and flat welts. Then my eyes traveled to my head. It looked like a mans five o clock shadow. It was pure stubble of flaming reddish brown needles. My head had scabs here and there from where my father had nicked me with the razor. I saw myself in this reflection and realized it was no longer me.
For years I had followed my father undoubtedly with no resistance. I had suffered pain and witnessed things no one should ever have to lay eyes upon. I myself had done so many horrible things to so many undeserving people. I am no longer a person. Just an empty, bruised, and beaten hollow being. I begin to shake even more. A fresh onslaught of tears overwhelms me. I bury my head in my hands. I feel my calloused finger tips run across my face and eyelashes.
I stand up and walk to the kitchen. I begin searching. I rifle through cabinet upon cabinet. All of them are empty, with only a few containing some pasta and rice. I go to the fridge to find a half empty beer bottle. I hold the cool glass bottle in my hand and slide to the floor. I sit with the fridge door wide open in the dim kitchen. I look at the time. It's three in the morning. I sigh.
So many years of pain and hurt my father has caused me. So much worry and fear. I've caused so many creatures the same. No more. I'm done with any emotion. Past done. Over done. I throw the beer bottle against the tile sending shards of glass flinging everywhere. I pick up a sharp piece and roll it in my palm. I feel the sting as it slices my hand, smiling. I let my DNA flow on the floor in the form of blood cells and feel relief. I collect pieces of glass with my bare hands and let them pierce my skin. I hold them tightly in the fist of my hand.
I stand up and make my way to the bathroom and shift all of the glass into one hand while I rifle through the cabinets. I collect a mixture of pills and set my glass and meds on the counter. I then slowly remove all my clothing until I stand with goose bumps all over my body. I turn on the bath water as hot as it can go and slowly let it fill up. I then stand in the mirror. I pick up a piece of glass and turn it over between my finger tips. I draw a line with it down the middle of me. I watch as it scrapes my flesh open and as my red art flows. I draw patterns on my legs and don't wince once. Soon a thin puddle is gathering beneath me. I swallow my pills one at a time. Twenty three of them in all. I then grab the biggest piece of glass and slowly sit myself in the tub. I watch as tendrils of blood swirl from my cuts as the burning water tinges my skin in light pink. I take my piece of glass and cut four vertical stripes on each wrist.
I close my eyes. I can feel the water sway to and fro and feel peaceful. I lay in my warm bath and let myself take in my last moments. For the first time in a very long time I feel sure of something. There is no light calling me home. Only darkness. I sway far away.
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I know the first chapter back is extremely dark but I wanted to come back with a bang. So I've been gone for about five months and let me just tell you how hard that's been. Anyway, I was gone because I could not log in. I'm not sure if I got hacked or if I don't even know but all I know is that I just could not get on. Then I tried it today and walla I am suddenly logged in. Fml. So basically I'm back and ready to write. See ya'll tomorrow.
