Two Truths and a Lie

Chapter 14

TW: This chapter mentions su1c1d3 so for all my traumatized attemptes or witnesses please be alert 🚨

Crying...That's all I'm good for...

With my door locked, again, I sit in a corner crying. My sisters and mother, try to come in and console me, but I don't answer or open the door.

Why can't I be good enough...I should just-well maybe,

Die.

My head and heart agree.

Wait a second. Where did that come from?!

I say it once more just to see what happens.

Nothing happens.

It doesn't scare me and it seems clear as day. There's nothing I can do, nothing I can say; I'm stuck in my situation, so—

I. Need. To. Die.

It seems extreme (I know), but it's the only way to leave. If I die I can get out of so many things: my abusive relationship with my husband, my father's views, my idiotic love for Alexander, my heart skipping a beat out of nowhere for a man I've only met twice...

Those things won't matter when I'm dead. I get up and head towards the writing desk; as I sit down a wave of mixed feelings arrived over my head.

I can't do this. I have a son! My sisters need me and what if John starts to take out his behavior onto Phillip.

I can't do that to him.

Putting down the quill and pushing the paper aside; I start thinking about what will happen if I stay. Soon memories of torture and unheard tears appear in my head and I want to get rid of them so badly—

"Angelica?"

Crap—it's Eliza.
"Yes?"

She fiddles with the doorknob, expecting it to be open and unlocked at this point. It's not—

"Could we come in now? I know that talk wasn't good, bu—"

"Wasn't good?! That's the understatement of the century!! He hates me Eliza, all I did was make the wound deeper."

I could hear Eliza sigh, she's probably thinking about what to say next. "Angelica, why don't we–" She gets cut off by the sound of a crying child from downstairs. She apologizes and tends to it.

I've made up my mind—

(8 Hours Later)

I stare at the clock at the walk, 1:21 a.m. Why can't I sleep? Thoughts race through my mind. I'm either giving excuses or urging myself to go.

The house is eerie and silent, which sadly means this is the only chance I have—

I get up from my bed and put on a short coat. I glance through my bedroom before staring at the window. This window ruined my life; if only it had a lock, if only it wasn't so wide, if only it didn't exist. This w-window is horrible and I do not want to see it again. I shudder and head towards the attic.

I see the window with the latch and open it to be onto of the roof. Our house was tall enough to do what needs to be done. I sit near the edge, not fearing anything at this point.

The piece of paper in my hand could the last thing I ever write. I stare at what is written and start reading over it. I'm checking for correct punctuation and grammar, but I know I'm just stalling.

Dear Everyone,
If you find this letter, I'm probably gone. It may seem wrong in your eyes, yet this is for the better.
I know you resent me father, but now I'm gone forever (crisis adverted huh?). Mother, thanks for sticking up for me, but don't waste your breath; you have so much more to live for.