Bad Days.

The aftermath..

     The next morning, I awoke. I looked around and hoped it was all a dream . I looked down at my wrists and there it was; writsts stained red. I heard voices coming from the kitchen which is right outside my room. I was definitely NOT going out there.

       I did not see my uncle for weeks because he had finally moved out. I felt relieved; safe. Unfortunately, that didn't last long. My dad lost his target; my mom, so he decided to use me.

      Why me , oh my god. Was he behind all this? Did he know what that son of a bitch was going to do? Was it his idea?

      I didn't know what to think anymore. I began to hate myself more and more. School wasn't too bad . I got bullied, who hasn't?

     Then, the nightmare began when my father came to pick me up from school one afternoon, intoxicated. I rushed to the car and sat in complete silence.

     The next day, everyone made fun of me. They didn't know I had a father and teased me about how he was a drunk. I couldn't stop them, they kept on, everyday. One day, I just couldn't take it. I began to cry and I heard,"Come tell your drunk father to come pick up the pieces."

      Soon enough, there was a hate club for me. Then, it got old, people dropped it. School became an escape for me. I gained a bit more confidence and made friends.

      5th grade began and my mother returned. I made it through a whole year without her. My brother came back and so did my uncle. I felt like the underdog; although, I was glad to have my hero, Guero.

     My brother seem to spend most his time in his room when he wasn't working of course. I realized my brother became depressed. My parents were still avoiding each other and my father, still a drunk .

      I came home from school one day and the house was completely silent. I waited at the kitchen table awaiting my brother to arrive from work. But, unfortunately, nothing. I was exhausted; I went into my room and went to bed.

     I awoke in the middle of the night, 3am read my alarm clock . I went into my brother's room to find him hanging . . No, not hanging out, hanging . He killed himself and I felt a part of me die.

     I screamed and cried; my parents rushed into the room. They stopped; they pushed me out the room and I grew angry . I went to room and cut again, I became numb. I then realized I did NOT want to feel.