Siblings

Caught Between 3rd Grade Walls & A 10th Grade Gun

"I put your name on the gun so everyone would know you were the reason I was no longer sane.
But as I wrote your name all of the ways your hurt me flooded my brain
And that's the story of how even in my last minutes you still found a way to bring me so much pain."
I've read this poem over and over for the past 20 minutes and my brain is still being complete crap at comprehending. When I got the call from my mom her sobbing forced the majority of the conversation on her end to become incoherent, even though the main idea was clear; Dakota was in the hospital for attempting to commit suicide and I needed to get back home to California. However, nothing could have prepared me for once I made it into Dakota's room after being gone for a year. Everything was exactly the same as it's been for years. Bright purple walls with a fluffy black carpet, a bunch of books scattered everywhere, and vinyl records from bands that are almost as old as Dakota. There wasn't blood splattered across the window and the walls were still the same walls she begged mom and dad to paint purple in 3rd grade. It was like I never left, except for our dad's gun thrown on top of the fluffy black carpet near a paper with Dakota's poem, tears, and quite possibly sweat on the paper. It was scary to think that a disaster could happen within these once innocent walls because of something I didn't know I did. As I re-read the poem I can't help but wonder if I'm supposed to go to the hospital and find out what I did to Dakota or just skip town... I mean, what the hell is a person supposed to do when their sister attempts to commit suicide because of them?