Fallen Shooting Star

Prologue

The noise blared through my headphones, carrying me away. I swayed to the beat, humming along to the chorus. This was rare for me. Mom was always home, while I was at work or school, so this was a treat. Let me explain.

Five months ago, my dad went suicidal. He had lost our family company that had been a big part of European culture for awhile. My dad was framed and lost a case. He had felt that losing the company was his fault, and went... down the wrong path. It started small.

Self-harm. He had used his razor to cut himself all over. Next, he started taking medicines that would put him to sleep. When we stopped all of that, he ran to his dad's grave. It was on a bridge in honor of Grandpa. The perfect place. My mom and I woke up after he had slammed the door. We ran after him, screaming for him to stop. But when we got there, he was on the edge. I screamed his name, crying. The last thing he did after months of silence and frowning was tell me as I ran over to stop him:

"Nala, I love you. Don't make my mistakes."

His body hit the waves with a spray. He may have been doing something that would only cause discord and chaos, but he looked so peaceful. Like he was finally going to bed after a long day.

After that day, my mom turned alcoholic and abusive. I had to work my butt off, but I am doing pretty okay for a hated child, self-abusive, introverted, 11 year old girl.

I did follow my father's dying wish. I didn't go as far as murder. Instead, I cut myself with his razor every day, in memory and reminder of what happens when you let your guard down. Dad, if you could see me now, I hope you would be proud.