Goodbye Letters

5. CYNTHIA

dedicated to crazy_awesome_me for the cover she created for me... sorry this was so long in coming girl! :)

5. CYNTHIA

January 25th, 2013 – Friday

                Things have been rough lately. Or rougher than every day ‘normal’ is. I don’t know why. Things are just- harder. Somehow they are but I don’t have an explanation.

Francis found out about my bingeing and I’m pretty sure she suspects I’m cutting. Not that it should matter to her. I mean, she hasn’t cared at all. Or if she has she hasn’t showed it and now suddenly she’s all pushy about not leaving me home alone and she wants to hang out and stuff even though we never do anything. It doesn’t make any sense.

My life is so not worth it. Why am I not strong enough to ever carry through with the suicide? I cut and go deeper and deeper and I’m right there, the vain is right there, if I draw the blade across one more time I’ll slowly bleed to death but as of yet I still haven’t been brave enough. Maybe tonight will be different. ~Cynth

Patrick wakes in the night hearing sobbing. Immediately he hops out of his bed and his chubby feet pad across the hall to Cynthia’s bedroom. Pressing his ear against the door he hears her moaning and crying. Worried he turns and quickly makes his way into the bedroom at the end of the hall. Slowly he opens the door and finds his oldest sister sitting in her bed reading a book with her table lamp on low.

“Francis?” he whispers.

She quickly shuts the book and shoves it under her covers “Yeah? Why are you still up Junior?” She asks obviously surprised at her brother’s late night adventure.

Patrick Jr. bites his bottom lip, looking at the floor before mumbling “Cynthia’s crying and I’m worried. She says she’s broken in here” He says patting his chest “and made me promise not to tell anyone but, but I’m worried, what if she’s not getting fixed like she told me she was? What if she dies from it? I love her and I would miss her.” He finishes bursting into tears and rushing into his oldest sisters arms. “I love her Francis, why doesn’t she get fixed?” he sobs.

Francis is at a loss for words. She holds her little brother tight and rubs his hair between her hands trying to think of something to say.

“I know Junior, I know. I love her too I just don’t think she knows it. She’s broken but maybe we can help fix her, huh Junior? We could try at least.” She says as she pulls away and rubs her thumb against his soft cheek. “We could try, right?” She’s asking him but she knows she is really asking herself. Is it too late? Can we fix her? Can we heal what’s broken? Can we show her the love that none of us seem to understand?

“Yeah, we can try, because I love her too much to let her break all the way.” Patrick says before rubbing his running nose with the back of his hand and drying his tears on his t-shirt. Sniffing he backs away and whispers a ‘Goodnight Francis, I love you’ before heading back down the hall.

“I love you, too” Francis whispers towards the empty doorway as she pulls the Bible from under her cover and puts it into a drawer in her night table before turning out the light. “I love you both; I just don’t think I understand how to love.” She whispers again into the darkness.

In the early morning Francis finds herself standing in front of the bathroom mirror starring into her own eyes. “Why don’t I get it? I can’t I understand?” she yells in frustration at the reflection she sees. “Why?”

Across the hall Cynthia is startled awake. What the heck was that? She opens her eyes and climbs out of bed slipping a long sleeve shirt over her tank top to hide the scars. Opening her door she sees light coming from under the bathroom door, looking down the hall she sees Francis’s door open and her room vacant. Francis? She wonders. What’s wrong with her? Slowly and quietly she steps across the hall pressing her ear against the door. From inside she hears the sobs of her sister “Why God? If you even exist, why don’t you fix this mess? All of it, why don’t you do something? We’re breaking God, she’s broken God, broken, why?” Her words become too slurred with the sobbing for Cynthia to make out more.

Cynthia stands there outside the door not sure what to do. Checking her room clock she realizes it’s only 6, not even time to be up. Suddenly she hears her sister whimper in pain and cry out again “It helps Cynthia, right? Why isn’t it helping me? Why why why?” She mumbles. Cynthia jerks her head away from the door suddenly knowing what is happening on the other side. Internally she fights open the door? Help her? Are you kidding? You can’t help yourself how could you help her? She can’t do this to herself, stop her! A voice within commands. Taking a deep breath she opens the door and sees her older sister sitting cross legged on the floor her hair a mess from bed, tears streaming down her cheeks and in her fingers a razor blade pressed against her left wrist. There are already two cuts, not deep, barely bleeding, but still there, two cuts marring her sisters perfect skin. “No!” Cynthia screams at Francis “Don’t do that. Don’t ever ever start doing that to yourself, you can’t.” Tears come from her eyes. The walls she has built between her and the pain, the truth, the love of siblings tumble down forgotten “Francis, how could you?” She screams at her “You’re perfect, how could you do that?”

Francis looks up at her younger sister and is amused by the irony “How? Because I’m not perfect Cynth, I’m not and you’re not, and we’re not, none of us! You know what? We’re all a mess and no one cares! No one! I can’t handle it any more, I’m done.” She screams drawing the blade across her wrist a third time.

Cynthia steps back uncertain of how to react.

“See, exactly, that’s what I mean Cynthia, no one knows what to do, how to help each other, where to turn for help, no one even sees a problem! How can mom and dad not see that something about is wrong! We’re wrong Cynthia, so wrong!” Her tears flow freely from her eyes and she raises her voice higher and higher until she is screeching and as she shouts the last two words she breaks and begins shaking with sobs.

As much as her mind screams at her to run hide in her room Cynthia steps forward “But it doesn’t help Francis. It doesn’t.”

“Then why do you do it?” Francis screeches at her sister.

“Because I don’t know what else to do and I can’t stop. I can’t but you can now. Promise me you’ll never do it again because it won’t help you Francis it won’t do anything but make it your slave.” She is trying to speak slowly and to choose her words carefully.

“It must help. Because look at you, day after day you push on, regardless of my shaming you, of the kids at school bullying you, of mom not ever even noticing you because all she can see is through some warped glass that portrays me as perfect, through everything you carry on. You never stop and maybe it’s the cutting because I can’t keep going and that’s the biggest difference, you do something about your pain, something to release it and I don’t. I didn’t until now.” By the time her rant is finished she’s mumbling it under her breath retreating once again to the hard sobs.

“It doesn’t Cynthia, that’s not what helps. Trust me, the cutting, the bingeing, the starving, none of the self-harm is what helps, nothing helps I just, I’m just not brave enough to end it all. Because every time I come close I picture Patrick and I can’t do it, I can’t. Just for him I push on. Just for him.”

Francis’ sobs strengthen to the point where she can barely get enough oxygen to breath. Cynthia squats beside her and slowly, with very awkward movement wraps her arms around her older sister. “Francis. Francis, find us help.” She cries into her older sister’s shoulder “Because I don’t know how much longer Patrick can be my anchor.”

Together, sitting on a bathroom floor, grime, blood, and pain surrounding them they hold onto each other as if there’s nothing left to grasp. For the first time in their life they lean on one another for support. A bond has been created. A beautiful but oh, so fragile bond.

“Find us a new anchor.” Cynthia whispers.

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a/n Okay... so I'm extremely sorry for the long wait but I can officially say I've been plagued with writers block, that's a first :/ But I've finally had a break through and I'm happy with how this turned out.

PLEAAAASE I beg you guys to let me know what you think. I love votes, adds, follows, and the like but what means the most is a comment! I want to hear from my readers, critique my work, let me know what you think :)