I R E N E

F O U R

04: the voices that infiltrates an idle mind.

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-and how did these voices start? How do they stop?

How do you end it?

Perhaps the only way is ending you...

Where they the voices of those you grieved? The voices you created in your head to suppress those emotions you don't want to feel.

Was there a spiritual meaning to all of this? And was it all real?

Questions you ask yourself, and only questions you can answer.

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disclaimer: strong language, suicidal intentions.

From a young age, Zachary was troubled, according to his several primary teachers-

-because they saw in him, the traits they didn't see in another. Regina knew. Denver, his father knew also.

He had once had a gun, under his father's name and threatened to use it on himself when he was much younger. He struggled with a lot of things. Depression. Anxiety.

And they knew.

The Dempsey's were this picture perfect family on the outside, the kind, you see in real estate advertising-

-but behind the scenes, were what the neighbors did not see. They weren't terrible. But they struggled.

Almost more than every other family.

When the neighbors looked at Regina and Denver, they didn't see the love that they shared, they saw like the hundred others, a mixed family.

Colors. Labels.

Stereotypes.

There was Tyler, who had gotten the most of his father and Zachary, more of his mother.

It was so easy for them to have a favorite and obvious when they did.

And to Zach, it was Tyler. He was the star of the family.

THREE YEARS AGO

OURAY, COLORADO.

His eyes narrowed at the picture of the Eiffel tower that stuck magnetically to the fridge door, Zach loved these stickers and he collected most of them.

He loved the buildings on post cards. He loved puzzles too. And he loved his parents. God, he loved Tyler too.

"Boys-" His mother called as he handled his backpack, walking out with their wrapped lunches in her hands and a smile across her cheeks.

His eyes drifted to Denver and Tyler as they both yelled at the football highlights they had missed the previous night on tv and he then looked to his mother, with her hands akimbo on her hips, who sighed.

"Tyler. You need to get ready for school" She switched it off by the remote, to both their unsatisfied groans.

"I am ready" She rolled his eyes as Denver fell back into the chair, exhausted from the rising tension from the football match.