Trial Of Death

Our Stories

This chapter is dedicated to theevilpumpkinking thank you for giving me an idea for this chapter. Give his book "A Loving Twist" a read if you have the time.

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The video kept replaying the same scene. She was sitting on the edge of her bed and she dug out a box cutter blade and I could see the remorse flash past her eyes before she started cutting. There was so much blood as I watched her fall to the floor in a crumpled fetal position. "Hey shhh come on let's get you out of here" I mumbled as I pulled her up. Her tears stained my shirt as I wrap an arm around her waist to help her walk. The film clip started to flicker before turning off completely. She stopped sobbing as we reached a wall back in the plant room. I helped her ease her way down as I sat beside her slowly. She leaned against me and started to wipe the salty tears from her cheek. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that.." She whispered with all she had her voice cracking before the sentence even finished. I rubbed her back and stayed silent. She finally stopped trembling as I looked over at her, she was peacefully sleeping. I smiled as I replayed my events. The last thing I remembered seeing was the four blank walls of my bedroom. I didn't keep much up since my father would always burst in and angrily snatch off my wall decor. After a few drinks he was a raging ball of drunken anger. I used to paint but he didn't like that too much so he broke all of my brushes and called me names. No son of mine will be some pansy ass painter. You will be a man. A real man. Now gimme those damn brushes you fairy. He felt his body shiver. All he wanted was to follow a passion that he believed in. Not some factory worker like his father. It was bad enough that he had to pick up slack. Juggling a job and school so that he could make the rent on time and eat. She stirred in his arms as he lifted his head and saw her looking up at him quizzically. "What are you thinking about?" She asked roughly. He thought it was time. Since he knew her story he should share his.

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"When I was 9 my mother Left us. Just up and ran is what my dad told me. My father got her addicted to drugs and she couldn't feed the habit where she was so I assume she moved on to somewhere she could. A year after that he started coming home insanely intoxicated. And he would beat me for my mother bailing out on us. On my 17 birthday some of my friends got together and saved up money for months to buy me art supplies. It was my only passion. A few days after my dad came home from work, drunk as always, and smashed all of my stuff. He destroyed everything and I was distraught. A month or so afterwards we got into an altercation. He told me to get out that he wasn't taking care of me anymore. That he didn't care if i died. That night I took a bottle of antidepressants from the bathroom cabinet and mixed them with some anxiety pills and swallowed them all. I guess my dad cared enough to send for an ambulance because the last thing i remember were the lights above the hospital corridor.." He went quiet as I looked up at him. A shrug traveled through his shoulders as I smile tugged at the corner of his lips. I took a deep breath and sunk deeper into the wall. " my mother was apart of a hit and run. I was 15 when my mother and I left to have a spa day because I had passed all my finals. My dad was taking my younger sister Avery to her softball practice and my mom decided that it was the best time. We got on the highway and something made the tire start to act weird. She assumed it was flat so she pulled over and got out and went to check the tire. A car swerved into the wrong lane and crashed into our car...." I hadn't realized I was crying until I felt Austin lend his hand and start wiping the tears away. "You don't have to finish" he said solemnly. I shook my head and took a breath beginning again. "She died immediately. I was slammed against the door. They called my lucky because if he would've turned a little bit more to the left he would've killed me too. I was in the hospital for a week before they let me go. I didn't want to go home. If it wouldn't have been for my stupid finals i would still have my mother." Sobs caught in my throat as I struggled to wipe away the pool of tears that were starting to drown me. I took a shaky breath and finally managed to get ahold of myself. "My dad put me into therapy and the gave me antidepressants and some more unknown pills that they expected me to take. I took them and pretended they helped after my 16th birthday I distanced myself and a week after I took my life. I really hope Avery didn't see." I leaned my head against him and could feel his breaths beneath me. His breathing felt like he wanted to say something but if he did, he didn't choose right now to. I started looking around the dimly lit room. "Do you think there's a way out? Like a way back home?" He seemed surprised that I said that. "Why do you ask?" He responded curiously. "Because I'm not ready to leave the world. I want to go home. I miss my mother but I'm not ready to go." I managed to mumble. "There's a way out. We just have to find it. And we will, we will get out of here." He said reassuringly. Were gonna do it. I can't wait.