Black Butterflies

Chapter 27: Hold On Till May

[Trigger Warning]

Sky

I woke up to shouting and screaming. Springing up from the couch, I almost got tangled around my overly long hair but I want to know where the sounds came from.

"Mama! Papa!" I shouted when I couldn't find anyone. More frantic screams came from... Andes's room.

I rushed to her room and found the door locked. Pushing the door with all my strength, I found something horrible making my eyes bulge wildly and it felt like they're going to pop out of my skull any minute.

Lying on the floor is Andes. Her white hair wet with musky red liquid — blood — a large wound decorated her forehead, fresh blood still gushing from it. Her wrists are wounded and sports a gaping bloody wound on each side. Smaller cuts with shards of glasses sticking off them decorates her arms. The heavy rhythm of her chest heaving up and down assured me and our parents that she's still alive. Spyke, our dog, howls continuously and whimpers between barks then it dips its head closer to Andes's.

The screams had turned to sobs and I looked at mom. She's holding a bloody paper. Dad is pacing back and forth while running his hands across his thick hair, tears running down his face. I can see the outline of the words Andes wrote on the paper mom is reading.

I looked at Andes once more. The shards of glass. She's gripping a bloody knife. The knife curves at the end and points like a witch's hat. The mirror she hates which stands on top of her dresser is lying near her head, the glass broken. Mom and Dad haven't realized I'm standing here. Even Andes didn't know her little sister is here.

I slowly inched closer to her, not minding the way the shards of glass pricked the sole of my feet. I think I saw her fingers wiggle a bit, making me creep beside her and kneel.

"Sky!" Mama's voice startled me, making me jump a little. I looked at her then back at Andes's sprawled body then at her again. "Mama?" It was barely a whisper. I wanted to ask her what happened, how did this happen and why did this happen but Andes suddenly gripped a bunch of my messy hair, hard and it caused me to yelp and turn my attention to her by force. "Andes?"

Her lips moved. She's saying something inaudible. I lowered my head close to her face and positioned my ear closer to her mouth so I can hear her better.

"Don't follow my footsteps little sister. Don't be like me," she whispered. Her voice is heavy, pained and ragged.

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked, searching her dying eyes for an answer. She used to teach me how to do things the right way, how to be a better citizen. She didn't treat me like a stepsister. Instead she treated me as a real one. She defended me every time someone tries to pick on me. I always wanted to be like her. Kind, peaceful, popular, a genius.

"Because there are some things I do that I'm not supposed to do. Even the angel has a dark side it hides. Sky." she gasped.

"Andes?" Dad kneels beside me. "Why would you do this to yourself? I thought. — his voice started breaking — . I thought you will never do this again because of your sister. She looked up to you. She wanted to be like you. I thought you said you wanted to change for the better?"

His words brought more tears to my eyes. And I let them all roll outm I couldn't take it anymore, I stood and went near mom.

I reached for the letter and she gave it to me without saying anything. She didn't even look at me. I started to read what my sister wrote on the paper. I gasped at what I'm reading. I can hear mom sobbing beside me. Her sobs turned to wails, then turned to howls.

Andes

I can't. I can't take it anymore. I'm tired pretending everything's okay. I broke down in class earlier. All eyes were on me but I didn't care.

I don't wanna do this. I don't even wanna think about it even just a little. I just don't think I have anything to live for anymore. I know it might sound crazy, others might say I have lots of friends. I don't even know if they'd call me a friend as well. Its too hard for me to decide.

Should I live? Or should I leave?

I grabbed a piece of paper from my desk and snatched out a pen and started writing. I remember our Values And Social Studies teacher, he once told us that 'we shouldn't let out all our pain and anger to a piece of paper. We might write something we will regret soon.'

But I didn't mind this time. I don't know if I'm going to regret this. But I don't care.

My hands became heavy and my writing became sloppier. I filled the front page of the paper with everything I wanted to write. But when I looked at it, it only turned out to be random scribbles and blotches of ink. Containing only the previous words I wrote. 'Hold On Till May'.

I looked at the calendar. April. I can't hold on anymore.

I abruptly stood, knocking the chair over. With the paper still in my hand, I walked over to the mirror and punched it with my bare hands as hard as I could. The mirror cracked, my knuckles bled but I didn't stop. I ran my arms from the top of the broken mirror down to the middle, sobbing wildly.

Pieces of the glass got stuck to my arms and they dug in, causing wounds to open and bleed. But I didn't stop. I punched the mirror again, this time a few shards knocked off and fell to the floor. I rested my head against the mirror, I felt the coldness of its surface and the jagged ends of the shards protruding out.

As painful as it might sound, I opened the dresser and with trembling hands pulled it out, a knife. I held it away from me. I slid my body across the broken mirror and turned, so I will be facing the room instead of the mirror. With full force I pulled the knife close to me, the sharp edges slid in my body as easy as a needle goes through cloth.

The last thing I saw were mom and dad rushing in the room after Spyke woke up and saw his master's body on the floor. It cried out for help. Just the same way as I did years ago. Yet no one listened.