SINBOUND

I

Exhausted - drained of one's physical or mental resources; very tired.

That was my usual emotion. Right now, however, I was flooded with something else.

Numb.

That's how I felt.

That's how I felt as I looked from the envelope in my hands to the needles on the floor. From the needles on the floor to the young boy sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket as a police officer consoled him.

And that's how I felt as I looked to the stretcher with a pale body laying there, her dead eyes the last thing I see of my mother's face as she gets covered with a blanket.

As her body is carried out the front door, my brain finally comprehends what just happened; as if I haven't been standing here the last 30 minutes and staring at my mother's lifeless form, as if I wasn't holding her suicide letter in my hands, and as if I wasn't the one who called the paramedics and informed them my mother had just killed herself.

The numbness goes away and a new emotion sets in. One I couldn't even describe. Something worse than pain, something worse than feeling simply just hurt.

I stuffed the unopened envelope in my pocket, not caring if it got crumpled. I look over to my 7-year old brother still sitting on the couch with a female officer, tears streaming down his puffy face. I sat beside him and pulled him away from the officers arms into mine.

Ares immediately melted into my embrace, and I said nothing as I ran my hands through his dark, tangled hair in hopes to sooth him.

My heart felt as if it was getting ripped out of my chest as his grip on my shirt tightened and his sobs became louder. He's only a little boy. He shouldn't be feeling this pain. He shouldn't have seen the body. He shouldn't be going through this type of emotion at such a young age, and he shouldn't be crying over the loss of his own mother.

After a few minutes a police officer came up to us. She said we had to go with her and we complied. But I didn't let go of Ares. Not once.

I didn't let go of him as we sat in the police car. I didn't let go of him as hours passed by and we sat in silence in the police station. And I still didn't let go as an officer was talking to me about god knows what. I was in a daze, not thinking about anything but everything at the same time.

"...ther will come pick you up." Officer Parks said, shutting the file on his desk and looking in my eyes with pity. We were sat in an office silently until Parks here came and started blabbing nonsense. I snapped out my daze and looked at him confusedly.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Your father. He is coming to pick you up. Since you are only 17, you still need to be under the legal care of somebody. Same with your little brother only being 7. You both have been placed under your father's care." The officer said, leaning back in his chair.

"I don't have a father. He died when we were very young." I uttered, glancing at Ares who was now staring at the officer in shock.

When was growing up, I got curious why everybody else had a dad but I didn't. Every time I asked my mother about my father, she would get angry and tell me he's dead. That he died months before Ares was born. He would always be on business trips before that, apparently. I was 6 when he 'died' yet I don't have a single memory of him, as if he was never there to die in there first place. I never even shed a tear over his death. I never met the guy, so why would I? Hell, I didn't even know his name or how he looked like. My mother didn't show me a single photo once, nor told me anything about him.