I gasped and took in the oxygen surrounding me.

My eyes parted and I blinked back the sudden light that rushed at me.

"She's awake" The docter mumbled to someone beside me, smiling small.

"My baby girl" It was my mom beside me. Her voice cracked as she talked. She had been crying.

I laid my head back down on the pillow,softly, my throat feeling grungy and weak like my bones, pain crossing over my head like a serious migraine. How long had I been asleep? It felt like years. Everything hurt,though.Like I had been in a car accident. I wish I'd been, maybe I'd be completely dead. But I hadn't, and I'm still alive. I cursed under my breathe.I had heard God's words,though.It's not your time. What did that mean?

Of course it was my time. Not only had I wanted to leave this planet and go to heaven, but everyone around me wanted me to go,too.Why did God still want me here? Why was he torturing me? I began to tear up.

My brother stood in the corner, watching me with a hurt expression on his face. Like I had hurt him in a way. I mentally rolled my eyes,I'd hurt no one in any shape or form identifiable.I wanted to leave. It was my own decision.

My brother stood there with his arms crossed, tattoos nearly covering his entire body. His hair was long, layered, shaggy and light brown. Some could argue dirty brown. It fell to his face and he usually flipped it away, but I could see he was about to cry, so he left the hair there, in fear someone would see him. He wore rolled up skinny jeans that were faded and ripped,with a black V-Neck top. He wore his old,navy vans with no laces that he had for four years and still wore them. He has a tradition of wearing them to Warped Tour every year.

I watched him with an expression that said, "Don't you dare feel bad for me."

It was a moment of blanket-soft happiness,it stitched me together with an unbelievable,miracle therapy.

My dad wasn't there. I wasn't surprised.He was probably traveling the world right now, disappointed in me,the 'norms'.

My father was a struggling musician who could never find his light.He was always so pessimistic about everything and was always pissed off.He was disappointed in me because of my grades and looked at me as a failure, fortunately,I was the favored child,he looked at my brother even worse. I remember when my dad and mom were still together, my brother and dad would argue all day,twenty-four seven. My brother,Adam,was never good in academics.Centered around the heart breaking fact that nobody believed in his potential.My brother,now,is an amazing reader and writer, mainly because my dad left when he was fourteen,so he could finally understand who he was and wasn't forced to do the things he didn't want to do. My dad looked a lot like Adam, but more ginger. In reality,the only difference was that my dad had a little amount of tattoos and brown eyes, on the other hand,my brother had millions of tattoos and green eyes. Thank god I looked like my mother. Not to say my brother isn't attractive, but Id rather look like my beautiful mother.

My mom was tall and had curves in all the right places,she had fair,pale skin with a constellation of freckles all over her face.Her hair was short and light brown and she had emerald eyes. I looked a bit like her, but I liked to be different from everyone else and thus I dyed my hair a lot,yet another reason my father looked upon me as such a failure. My hair was light brown with a bit of blonde, I have brown eyes with a pinch of light freckles.My closet is the female version of my brother's,merely,unisex clothes these days.Most people would ask why and I would remind myself how much I look up to him,but nobody,especially him,has to know.

"Kimberly Anne Lois. Why?" My mother asked me.I heard my brother sniffle hard and leave the room.He was about to sob intensely and didn't want me to see,sweet,ain't he?

I couldn't explain it to her at the moment. I just couldn't. There was just so much to say,but I felt like shit and could barely squeeze the words through my vocal cords. All that came out was, "I hate myself."

My moms eyes grew wide and she cried even harder into her feminine hands.I'm so pathetic.The doctor looked at me with cold eyes and said,without hesitation "You'll have to treat her at another facility." He looked at me coldly and handed my mother a slip of paper with something written on it.

My mom looked at the slip of paper then looked up at the doctor like he was crazy  "But this is a institute for unstable people!" She cried.

"Exactly" The doctor said blandly  "After what she put herself through, she is a danger to herself, and she needs it. If you don't take her, I'll have no choice but to call the police and have you arrested for child abuse. I'm sorry Lois,but that's how things work in the state of Florida.

The doctor and my mom argued impatiently and consistently as I drifted into a deep,restless sleep.That's where I wanted to stay. In this hollow sleep,infinite endings.Just let me leave already, God.We all get a wish in our lives,I haven't gotten mine,this must be it.

A death to end all the sleepless nights and desperate cries to the heavens.Do my prayers for an end not get boring? Are they simply unheard?

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