Suicide

Why?

Unconsciousness is sweet. It gives you the deniability of reality.

Andrea woke up in a hospital bed and pain rushed in like a flood. It was like a wake up call. She couldn't even relish the few seconds of confusion. Maybe it was all a bad dream.

Some dreams seem so real until they wake up, don't they? Then you wake up to a horrible reality and just wish you woke up from a dream within a dream.

The tears came in. They were painful but unstoppable. The truth was up in the air, waiting for her active brain to analyse each one.

My dad died.
My mum is no more.
That can't be real, can it?
It is.
I can't even fathom this.

Panic ensued. The noise in the background didn't help. That noise just happened to be the machine that monitored her heartbeat.
It was through the roof.

Some seemingly random people rushed in, doing all sorts to her. She realised at the back of her mind that they were trying to keep her alive.

It was then the inevitable questions started to come.
Why me?
Why my family?
Why me?
How did this happen?
What did I do to deserve this?
It's my fault. It has to be.
If my parents didn't give birth to me, wouldn't they be alive right now?
Maybe they wouldn't have stayed in that house. Maybe they wouldn't have been robbed.

Why me?
Why am I alive?
Why couldn't it have been me who died?
My dad took a bullet, my mum did as well. I think I took three.
What kind of odds are those?
I should be the one who died.
Why not me?

Why not another family?
Why? Why? Why?
What's so special about mine?
Or what's so not special about mine?

Why are these people struggling so much to keep me alive?
My family is gone. I have no one.

What do I have to live for?

"Stop," she yelled. "Why wouldn't you just let me die?"

Why?