After- Mother 3

After (cont.)

I deserve death.

I walk into the bathroom and something shiny catches my eye. It's my dad's old razor. He hasn't used it in weeks by the looks of it. I take it in my hand and stare at it for a long time. Should I? Should I not? I end up only confusing and upsetting myself even more. I close my eyes and drag the blade across my wrist, screaming as my arm stains red. I throw the razor into the toilet and stomp into my room like a two year-old throwing a tantrum. Why am I like this? That razor could have AIDS, for all I know!

I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn't cut...so much for keeping that promise.

I hear my dad slam the back door, then a loud crash and a "FUCKING JESUS. FUCK," then silence. He probably broke something. No surprise, he sounds drunk.

I go downstairs to clean up whatever he dropped and freeze when he yells at me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snaps from the couch. Yep, definitely drunk.

"I live here, Dad," I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen to find a chair on the floor with a leg broken off.

"I thought I sent you to one of those fag camps-"

"YOU DIDN'T. YOU WANTED TO, BUT IT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE FOR YOUR DRUNK ASS," I yell back.

"Well if you're gonna be like that, go get your own job and make some money," he slurs.

I pick up the chair pieces and throw them by the trash can.

"Go to hell," I hiss, and walk back up the stairs to my room.

"Whatever, queer," he hiccups and laughs at his own comeback, because it was that fucking hilarious. He's such an ass when he's drunk. If he's not drunk, he's out getting drunk. He's so pathetic and it makes me sick. If mom were still alive, he wouldn't be like this. If Claus was still alive, maybe he'd be better. Anything is better than this. ANYTHING is better than being alone. I...I wish Boney was still alive. It's been two years, and it's been even more lonely without him trotting along beside me and sleeping on the corner of my bed curled up in a ball. I miss him barking at other dogs from the window when they walked by our house with their owners, even though I thought it was annoying at the time.

I remember feeling so terrible when I didn't realize he'd gotten sick. A few weeks after I'd realized he wasn't okay, my dad found him under a tree outside. 

I buried him in the front yard and planted a small bushel of flowers on top of him. They were the flowers that he used to eat as a puppy back at our old house. They didn't get him sick, but Mom used to hate when Boney would eat her garden. Mom loved her garden. She loved us, too. Her perfect family. She loved us more than anything. She died protecting us because of that strong love. Why did she have to die!? Dad wouldn't be like this if Mom was still alive. So...why? It's a valid question, and I've only been asking it for 10 years.

Our family fell apart after Mom died. Dad started drinking, Claus ran away, and when Dad was sober, he would go search for Claus, leaving me alone with Boney to think about why everything was my fault, which it totally was. If I had listened to Mom and stayed with Dad, she would still be alive right now. I should've died with her that night. Maybe Claus would've stayed with Dad because he didn't want him to be alone. Claus was caring like that. He was really stupid sometimes, but he was caring.

Claus was a charmer. All of the girls loved him, but they didn't really take notice  of me. I was okay with it; I didn't really take much notice of them, either. I did get picked on for my crybaby, gaybaby ways in school, but Claus would put an end to it almost immediately. In other words, he kept Fuel in check. He was my protector. I sure could use one of those right now.

Memories of Claus come flooding back to me. I smile to myself at the silly things he did. He was so outgoing, and I was the exact opposite. I still am. He was a leader, I was a big-time follower. I would go along with whatever he did, no matter how much I disagreed; I was too shy to speak out. Claus was my voice after Mom died. When he died... I was all alone. I had no voice.

I used to be angry at Claus for dying the way he did. Suicide was such a selfish choice to me back then. A person has no regard or care for anyone around them. They don't bother to think about the people that will hurt when they're gone.

It's been seven years since Claus's death. Dad seems to be in a permanent state of grief. He's dug a hole much too deep for him to climb out. He's stuck right where he is; unemployed, drunk, and irritable as fuck. I've been trying to move on, but he hasn't been helping. I'm still alone, and he's still an alcoholic. Wow, Dad! Good job! Father of the Year award! GOOD JOB. YOU DID NOTHING. YOU'VE DONE NOTHING. THAT'S ALL YOU'VE EVER DONE FOR THE PAST 10 YEARS.

I slam my fists against the wall, not caring how much it hurts. I stare at the two barely visible dents freshly made on the wall...and laugh. I have nothing better to do, after all. I sit down on my bed and laugh. I sound insane. I laugh at Fuel. I laugh at his stupid friends. I laugh at my life. I laugh at everything; it all seems hilariously stupid at this point. None of it makes sense anymore... so I just laugh. I'm almost hysterical. Why am I laughing? Am I that emotionally unstable? I feel like I'm going to throw up, I'm laughing so hard. Oh gosh...I'm gonna throw up.

I retch over the toilet for what seems like ages. I'm so done.

"Good job, son!" I hear Dad calling from the bottom of the stairs. "Are you vomiting out all that homosexuality?" 

"I hate you!" I growl.

He chuckles to himself and walks up the stairs, stopping in the bathroom doorway.

"Hey, son. Are you sick or something? Did you get into my drinks?" There's a hint of concern in his voice, probably worried about his beer.

"No, Dad, I'm just upset."

"...Are you gonna tell me why?"

Whoa. Something's wrong with him. He never says more than three things to me in a day, and they're usually all insults.

"It's nothing. I'm fine," I mumble and wipe my mouth on my sleeve, pushing past him to get to my room.

"Fine. Don't tell me," he rolls his eyes and turns around to go back downstairs.

I don't even flinch when I hear him fall.