"I shall make you feel the same as I do"
"I will make you suffer the way I do"
"Only, the way you will feel or suffer will be stronger than what I have felt"
"-For you are mine and I am your creator"
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After school, I started walking home. Sadness surrounds me as I got closer to my small, one story house; remembering the memories from that small space of what I call home brings me sadness. Some of my sadness comes from the appearance, but most comes from the events and moments that happen inside of it. My brother, as I said, has a mental illness, and the effects of it affects me. He still has reason, he still can comprehend things like he use to before, he is normal. The illness part occurs when he becomes isolated from me, from everyone, from reality. He keeps himself in a dark room filled with pictures of his deceased girlfriend, and anyone who disturbs him is in great risk of getting hurt.
I should know this since I have been trying to break him out of his shell for years and have gotten hurt multiple times during the process. And I haven't only been hurt physically but also emotionally.
But it's okay because that's what a sister does, right?
Do all I can to set him free is right, is it not?
To make things normal for me isn't a crime, right?
Right?
Tears started forming as I thought of these sad thoughts of the past and the present. I quickly wiped the tears off my face as I was in front of the door to my house. I opened it with ease and entered in, leaving the safety of the world behind me.
A smell of carpets and old books took over me as I set my book bag aside. I take a minute and draw in my surroundings. Old furniture lay about like any regular home, and old photographs take their places on a couple of cabinets that stand around my small, dark living room. I then looked at the bedrooms located farther in the dark, obscure hallway just at the end of the living room; especially, my brother's room. Seeing the door to his bedroom closed gave me the urge to knock on it, and so I went with that feeling and decided to knock on his door. As I walked across the hallway, I felt a cold wind roaming around my being, as if it is trying to comfort me for the lack of hope I had left in my heart. I hurried along as I resisted the cold feeling surrounding my presence; I keep telling myself along the way "Maybe he'll open the door this time, maybe...he'll change". The hope of getting a response gives me determination, but alas, there was nothing...again. My heart sank...my brother was still in his own little world. Again, like other failure attempts, the cold retched spirit laughed at me and embraced my weak frame, trying to give me its comfort...shaking the warmth from my body. I walked away from it and the cold door that ignored my existence and went off into my room to embrace the comfort of my bed. The wet particles trickling down my face clouded my vision once again.
"Why is my life like this? Why do I have to wait for my brother to change when I could just end all of my suffering right now?" I thought to myself.
I only have a brother and an aunt who doesn't even care for my well-being
I don't see why I have to keep on living any much longer
I can end this suffering if I wanted to. My life has been a burden to others; it's time to be selfless and just end all suffering with a bang. Why not? I have nothing left to live for anyway
No expectations
No hope
Nothing. NOTHING AT ALL TO LIVE FOR
I slowly lift my mattress up which hid a black cold pistol containing one round left in it
I grabbed the weapon and began examining it closely with my forlorn, tired eyes
Seeing this pistol made me remember the time my dear aunt gave this to me. She gave this instrument as a solution to my depression. She told me that a pistol will only end things in a quick and easy fashion. She even spoke about the time my uncle used it to get away from marrying her again in a church instead of signing papers in an office. Seems my uncle did not want to falsely say his vows in front of God...
My aunt thought I needed this deadly tool in case I wanted to leave the hell I was living in
She was right...It was good thing I kept this. It was waiting for me to use it anyway. Time to fulfill its purpose
With tears still pouring down my face, I positioned my gun against my head and placed my finger on the trigger. I felt my heart beating faster the more pressure I place on the trigger. Memories began to flood my mind and tears blinded my line of sight. I began to count and focus on the mission that I was carrying at this point. I NEED to end this life of mine
"At the count of 3..." I mumbled nervously.
1...
2...
3..-
*BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
*BANG
-End of Part 2-
