Broken Wings

Fourteen.

You were the perfect kid. Straight A's maybe a few B's and absolutely hated getting into trouble. Always did your work and never gave up.

Middle school came. You quit all sports teams. But still try for your grades to make your parents proud and for college.
You're still dreaming for a better life on your own.
Next thing you know.....

You're in highschool now. Hardly ever do your homework, but ace the tests. That's still not enough. Your grades are slowly slipping, you don't care anymore. But your parents are still banging at your door.
Expecting more.
You feel like a huge disappointment so you just cut more. Deeper.
Highschool is flying by and now your thighs, stomach, shoulders, and back are covered in scars you just cut over inviting the pain in so you can finally feel something.
To finally be able to breathe again.
Or to stop feeling everything.
To stop drowning in pointless words that effect you so much.

You're out of highschool and have one friend which is a drunk and smokes pot everyday to forget the world. She got caught under the bridge in your home town fifty miles from where you are and you refused to take a drink or puff a smoke.
But you also refused to go with her and deal with that mess.
And now she's dead because she caught the cops and grabbed the taser from his belt. She was shot.
You cry and cry and cry.
You go to the funeral with cuts all down your arms, hands, legs, stomach, back, chest, sides, shoulders, just everywhere.
People ask if you're okay.
You just say it's the neighbors dog, that the dog attacked you yesterday. And they believe you because their minds are too stirred up to think about you.

You've cut so much when you're in the shower you can hardly move. What are you suppose to do? You can't handle losing your only friend. And it's all your fault, right? You should've been there for her. Should've told her when it was too much. It's all you're fault. Everything.
You're parents hating you.
You're grades slipping.
Hardly getting into a college.
Having one friend.
Everything is your fault.

Even these thoughts. It's all you.
Maybe you should die. Maybe you should just go so you don't ruin anyone else's life like you've already done to so many.

When you get home you look at your phone that you threw at the wall but it surprisingly was fine. You have ten missed calls from your mother. Fifteen from your father.
You decide to ignore them.
You think for a second. Do they really care? Why aren't they here?

You go into your room and find the razor you've been using.
You take it and slit your wrists. Blood is pouring out and you're crying so much you pass out...

You're mom called to tell you she was coming to visit. So she came even though you didn't answer. You didn't lock the door.
She walked in to find blood coming from the top bunk of your college dorm.

She screamed. And started crying instantly and still screaming. Your hall monitor happened to be there and called the police.

Your funeral was three days later.

'Sky Milton.
1995-2016
We love you.'

Your dad speaks while your mom sits there and Cry's ever so violently.
"She was a sophomore in college. Majoring in physiology. I don't think she liked it though....."

You're gone.
You're whole life ahead of you just gone.
We miss you.

While your parents are cleaning out your dorm they find a note under your pillow.
Your mom unfolds it and reads it.

'I'm sorry I couldn't stay. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. I'm sorry for not getting help or for letting my grades slip or for ever disappointing you in the first place. I'm just sorry for ever being born the worst child a family could have. Just nothing could help me. Not even help from a doctor could have save me. I'm sorry.

She starts crying again. She curls up in your bed and your father tucks her in. She cries herself to sleep and your father just silently weeps in the chair in front of the desk rereading the note over and over.

Come back. Please? You're parent misses you and it's just not the same.

I love you....