Bleeding Through to See

Intro

I sit on the top stair that leads to the attic. The argument downstairs has gotten so loud that ever through thick ceiling and floors each word they say is crystal clear. For a second I just wanted this once lovable house to feel like home again. But since the car accident it hasn't been.
Of course I get why they fight. Dad was drunk and mom was sober when they came to pick my little brother, Henry and I up from Aunt Lindsey's. They were even arguing then. Mom didn't think he should be driving in the condition that he was. For one he was beyond drunk, two the road was covered in a sheet of ice from last night's terrible winter storm. But he argued saying he could protect the family. If only he knew then what we all know now.

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Seven months ago

"I know what I'm doing Sheryl. I have my drivers license." Dad yelled in a slur as he pulled out of Aunt Lindsey's house.

Before we even made it down Hurt Road, we almost got hit. He almost ran a stop sign. Mom was in the passenger seat gripping onto the seat while a horrifying look laid across her face. She kept trying to tell him to pull over. He kept denying her saying she has never drove in these weather conditions. Although he might have been right, she was even more correct. He shouldn't be driving.
We started to go down Hell's hill. That's not really what it's called but ever since three years back when a truck driver lost control and ran into four cars who hit another ten cars, that's what everyone calls it. That day it took 24 people's lives, ranging from an infant to an eighty seven year old man.
The moment we got one fourth of the way down is when I realized what was gonna happen. The car wouldn't be able to take it. Going down hill at a seventy five degree angle with fresh snow and ice covering the black asphalt, the breaks where going to lock and send us in a spin until we hit something with a hard enough speed to stop us. I looked over to see my little brother Hen, tears were streaming down his cheeks. He was terrified. Wiping the tears, I swear to him everything will be alright. He just had to have faith in me. The last thing I saw was a smile layed upon his face, that was right before the screams of our parents sounded in my ears.
It all happened way to quick. When I opened my eyes, I could hear people yelling trying to get anyone to answer them. Mere inches away from me, laid my brother. His face was staring blankly at me, tears still fresh soaked his now fading blushed cheeks. The life in his expression was empty for his soul has already moved on. He was dead. And it was all their faults.

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My eyes barely peeked open, their words were still being shot at each other. The vemon in their voices were posioning everyone that came in contact with them. Each sound that came from either of them cut through the walls and barriers of the house.
Before I knew it I was off the stairs and walking into my bedroom. Yet a single movement in this house seemed like it was about to collapse from the damage down. I kneeled before my bed, reaching in between the mattress and box spring. Before my finger grasped the cold metal I knew what was about to come.
Quietly I walked over to my window seal and sat down. I looked out at the stars and thought of him. He always loved the stars. Even at the age of ten, he believed one day he would fly off to the star to the left of the North Star. I thought about what he would be doing right now if he was here as they were arguing. Somehow he always managed to get them to stop. He was the peanut butter to this disorganized family. His laugh and smiled still haunt me. And I can't get his voice out of my head. I can't take much more of this.
I gripped the handle of the pocket knife that was now resting in my right hand. He give me this knife after dad and him went on a boys scout trip to the mountains. On the knife it showed an Indian when you held it into the bright light, but when you held it in dim light it showed a wolf. The handle was soft yet strong there was a piece of Indian cloth of it while underneath was hard steel.
I know Hen wouldn't want this. But I can't handle this pain, I'm not a fighter. In a swift movement the blade sunk into my flesh, pressure that was inside of me was slowly being released and all my pain was gone. It left the blade there sticking out of my wrist until I starting feeling pain again and slowly cut across again. Each time was slower than the first. I counted to five before passing out.