Suicide

-4-

-RENA'S POV-

I woke up, confused.

When did I go to sleep?

I streched out and went downstairs to have some breakfast.

The kitchen looked like a mess, which suprised me. My mother always keep everything spotless.

Abandoning the thought of breakfast, I looked for my mother. I heard a clatter in her bedroom and started running.

Is someone breaking in?

I found my mother in her room, clutching a bottle. I saw glas splattered all over the carpet, indicating that a bottle was thrown on it.

"Mom, what's going on here?!" I asked in disbelief.

She just presumed drinking her vodka. I'd never seen her like this.

Did Dad leave her?

I walked in front of her, trying to get her attention.

"Mom! What happened?"

She didn't even looked at me.

I reached out for the bottle and she didn't even tried stopping me.

But my hand went through the bottle.

What the...?

Then everything came flooding back.

The tears
The music
The voices
The blade
The blood

And then finally the darkness...

I looked at my arms and saw two deep vertical lines. It still looked fresh.
My clothes was covered in my own blood.

"No... NO!!!"

Realization set in

Regret filled me.

I looked at my mother. She was in a terrible state.

Is this what I caused?

Tears streamed down my face.

"Mom, look at me. I'm here! I'm right here, in front of you!" I tried putting my hands on her shoulders, but it just went through her flesh.

I backed away from her, all my efforts were useless.

My mother had a blank expression.
I knew she was in agony. I knew she cried up all her tears. I know I'm the reason she's not taking care of herself. I know I'm the reason that she's drinking, not even stopping to breathe.
I know I'm the one to blame.

I sat down next to her, knowing that it won't even help. I burried my head in my hands.

This isn't what I had in mind when I killed myself.

This isn't happiness

--

I heard the front door open and someone heading upstairs.

My Dad leaned on the door frame, his expression grim.

"Dad!" I screamed, getting up.

But he didn't hear or saw me

He just stared at my mother and sighed, "You need to stop drinking."

"Don't tell me what to do," she breathed heavily.

My Dad crossed his arms, "I'm just trying to help, Susan. I can understand that you're mourning our daughter's loss, we all are. But drinking will not help."

"What? Am I bothering you? Am I a problem?" She answered bitterly.

My Dad's mouth formed a thin line and he replied, "I care about your health. We also have another child. Do you want him to see you like this? A drunk?!"

My mother gave a dry laugh, "A drunk, huh? Well Richard, if you're not happy to be married with a drunk, why don't you just leave me?"

"You're drunk, Susan. You don't know what you're talking about. I'm sleeping on the couch tonight, " my father said, turning around, "We'll talk about this when you're sober," he said, walking off.

A pang of guilt,regret and sadness hit me.

This is all my fault