To Be Home.

4.

He fell to the ground with a thud.
He wasn't dead, I knew that. But every part of my body wanted him to be. I trudged over to the knife on the floor and practically crawled back. Without a second thought I stuck it in his throat.
I watched him for a minute, expecting him to struggle, or cough, or gasp, like they do in the movies. He'd wake up dramatically and claw at his throat thoughtlessly.
But there was nothing.
I sat there for a minute just watching him. I felt it in the back of my mind, I was crazy. No. I was more than crazy, I was psychotic, and I was a murderer. My heart began to beat increasingly fast. I was heaving and my chest was on fire. My entire body felt tingly and wrong. I look down at my hands and realize I can't move them, I try so hard. I try to move them until I'm screaming and kicking things around. I can't breathe. I feel like his hands are back on my throat and they are squeezing ten times harder than before. A thought enters my head that makes me stomach ache. A single word.

Mom.

My mother laid dead on the floor. She had a huge gash on her head and her face was beaten beyond recognition. If I had just walked in I don't even know if i'd recognize her. Shakily, I walked towards her. I bent down and grabbed her and held her so tight. I was breathing so hard my head was spinning.
A memory forced itself on me.

I was seven, my mom did drugs and I knew that. I could tell, it was evident in her face.
We were sitting at the dining room table at grandmas house. Mom spent the money Dad left us in two weeks. I don't know how much it was. The only glimpse I saw of it was her taking it out of an envelope, and shoving it in her pocket.

We lost the house and Grandma invited us to stay with her since she had been lonely in the months since Grandpa passed. Mom took that hard, she had left me at home for three days after she found out. I understood, she needed time alone.

Now we were sitting over a delicious meal and Mom couldn't even look at it. It was silent. Until Mom fell forward and hit her head on the table.
Grandma lost it that day.

"You have to leave! I will look after Natalie until you can clean yourself up!"

I've never heard Grandma yell until then. She was a peaceful woman who rarely raised her voice. Mom got up and grabbed me, I don't think I've ever seen her move so fast. She grabbed me and stormed to the door, only the walls holding her. "No! You will not take her with you! It's cold, she'll freeze to death!" Grandma yelled again, stepping closer to Mom.

Mom said five words that made me lose all hope in ever seeing Grandma again.

"I wish it were you."

The look on Grandmas face was a look that I had never seen before and would never forget. She wasn't mad, she didn't even look sad.
She looked lost, and confused.

With that Mom bursted out of the door, towards the woods in the back of Grandmas house. It was cold. It was so cold.

"I'm sorry, butterfly" Mom said softly over the wind. "Grandma just doesn't understand. You are the most important thing in the world to me... I'm sick, and I can't get better without you." She held me hopelessly close. I buried my head in her neck and cried. I cried harder than I ever have before. I wasn't stupid, she wasn't sick. She wasn't sick and even if she was she didn't want to get better.

We stayed in grandpas barn that night. Shivering, huddled together. I know that she was just cold, but the way she held me that night made me believe she actually loved me.
She actually meant it.

Now she was gone and I was holding her just as tight. I could feel it. The warm liquid surrounding us. Suddenly I was disgusted. It was thinking about that stupid fucking barn that got Mom killed in the first place.

I was alone and the air was too thick to breathe, so I ran. I ran out of the house and down the street.

I was fifteen.

I was alone in the world.