Siren

6. Sienna

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I pressed the kitchen knife against my wrist, being careful not too cut too deep, and watched as blood began to trickle down my arm. The pain felt good. Relieving. I'd never done it before. I'd wanted too, but never had the nerve. My old neighbor, Andrea, used to cut. Nobody knew but me. I went over to return a shovel my father had borowed and caught her misusing the scissors. She told me she didn't always do it, just when she needed too. I never understood what she meant about "needing too" until now. I needed to cut myself. I deserved the pain.

I dropped the knife and watched myself bleed into my bathroom sink. It wasn't until I looked up into the mirror that I noticed tears streaming down my face. I shouldn't be crying. This was nothing. I turned on the faucet and let the cold water wash away the blood. Then I pulled my sleeve down over the cut so my mother wouldn't notice. Not that she would, anyway. She'd hardly left her room in three days. I left the washroom completely and shut the door quietly before going to find my mother in her room. She looked as though in a trace, she lay on her right side, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide.

"Mom?" I whispered, kneeling next to her bedside. Nothing. She didn't even flinch. "Mom." I said more urgently, shaking her gently. Suddenly she snapped out of it and looked at me. "Mom." I spoke gently, "It's time to eat."

"I'm not hungry." She mumbled, rolling over to her left side.

"At least take your medication then."

"It doesn't help." She muttered. "I'm tired. I want to be alone."

"I'll leave when you eat and take your medicine." I tried to be firm. She didn't reply. "Please...." I begged. "For me?" my voice cracked. She only grunted in response. The worst part was, that was a good sign. On the verge of tears, I quickly ran to get her meds and the chicken stir fry I had prepared her. When I came back, she was actually sitting up, and I smiled and handed her her food. She glanced at me before eating, and I watched until she had eaten all of it. Then I gave her her pills and a glass of water, which she resentfully swallowed.

"Are you happy now?" She said.

"Yes. I'll leave you."

"Good." she mumbled before rolling onto her stomach.

"Don't forget, you have an appointment at noon with Dr. Drake. I'll drive you." She didn't reply, and I shut the door quietly behind me.

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The days I lived with my mother were the hardest. It was like the roles of parent and child had been reversed, and I had been left with an unruly infant. It was hard only because it hadn't always been like that. When my parents were together, me and my brother lived happily with our two parents who seemed to love eachother very much. It wasn't until we found out Dad was a disgusting cheater that things didn't quite work. That was the initial blow for my mom. After that the blows just kept coming in and it proved to be too much for her. I only chose to live with her because I could barely stand to look at my dad and he knew it. He had apologized to me and my brother but unlike Ron I couldn't forgive him. It didn't matter much anyway because by the time the divorce was final he already had a new wife picked and a new daughter on the way.

I put the key in the ignition and started my car. I was meeting Harry at The Brew at 7. I knew we would have to talk sometime or later, and now seemed as good a time as any. I'd be lying If I said I didn't have butterflies. Harry was obviously attractive, but it was more than that. He understood me in a way that no one else could. Which was scary, but also comforting in a strange way. There were times where he made me feel invinceable, just as there were times he made me feel like the smallest poke would send me down a flight of stairs. I entered the restaurant and got in line to be seated as I wondered where he was.