Encountering My Guardian

Chapter One

*5 years ago*

I've cried before, but never this much. It felt like thousands of tiny knives were trying to stab their way through my chest and pierce my heart slowly. I couldn't catch my breath; when I tried strange, heart wrenching sobs escaped my lips. I held on to my head and rested it on my knees, rocking back and forth slowly in the middle of my bathroom floor.

"I tried, there's nothing else you could've done. But still, it wasn't enough," I thought to myself.

I slowly fell over onto my side and nuzzled my face against the rug that was placed in front of my sink. I put out a shaking hand and grasped the trash can and pulled it towards my abdomen, cradling it against me. I rested my eyes as tears kept flowing.

"I'm worthless. Now I have no one. Why did he have to do this? Why did he have to go? It's so selfish!"

Images of what I had witnessed only a couple of hours earlier stayed plastered into my mind. I couldn't bear the sight of my best friend, the only person I could rely on in my life, dangling from the shower rod in his bathroom.

I had thought I had done all I could earlier that day. I had talked to him before school that morning when he said he didn't think he could take it anymore. We had always been best bros. I talked to him and told him to keep his head up and think about all the great times we had ahead of us. Traveling to the places we had always wanted to go, college, playing video games and making new friends, and watching Sunday football. I thought I had him convinced.

I was wrong.

His mother screamed and clawed at her chest when she found out. She was absolutely devastated. His dad probably wouldn't find out until later, not that he would care. He had left Peter and his mother for a lady young enough to be my older sister. He had abused Peter and his Mom and was an alcoholic; an angry one at that.

He hadn't had it easy, I knew that. But I tried to help him in any way I could. We had to constantly stay on the go to keep his mind off of his troubles. Not that I minded it though, it had done me some good as well.

But now that is all over.

I'm alone now. I have my family, yeah, but it's not the same. I couldn't talk to them about the same things me and Peter talked about. We had been best buds since day one of Pre-K.

I sobbed even more and buried my face in the rug as old memories ran through my head. I had nothing to look forward to. I was done with life.

I sat up abruptly and pulled on to the counter, pulling myself up and trembling uncontrollably. I looked in the mirror at a face that I hardly recognized.

Dark circles ringed all the way around my puffy, bloodshot eyes. Tears streaked down my red cheeks, staining my freckled skin. My nose was runny, my hair disheveled in many different directions. It was an unusual look compared to my former, young 15 year old boyish look.

I looked down at my arms and saw the tiny, straight scars that ran up and down from my wrist to the bend of my elbow.

God, I regretted every time I had done that to myself. It was pointless. Yet, here I was thinking about doing it to myself again.

"I'm so stupid," I whispered to myself.

I looked in the drawer I had mindlessly opened and looked down at the shiny silver razor that glistened enticingly at me. I slowly scooped it up and stared at it in silence, hearing nothing but my sniffling.

I thought about it long and hard, deciding I might as well go for it.

But then, the strangest thing happened as I was about to place the cool blade against my skin.

Five, long and skinny fingers were pressed against my wrist. I could barely see them, but I felt the indents of them around my wrist.

"No," I heard a soft voice whisper, "you're worth so much more. Don't do it."

The grip never left my wrist, but it was those few words that were enough that made me send the razor soaring across the bathroom. After that, I collapsed back on to the floor, and the grip on my wrist had abandoned me.

Was it Peter? No, it couldn't have been. The voice had sounded much to feminine in its silent and hushed whisper.

Whoever, or whatever, it was, it took a toll on me and I knew to listen. I knew from that moment on, I wouldn't ever attempt to do that again.

"I'll remember you, Peter," I whispered aloud. "You'll always be remembered by me, and never forgotten. I'm so sorry that I couldn't help you enough."

And with that, I picked myself up off the floor and made my way slowly towards my bedroom. I knew I wouldn't sleep after everything I had went through today, but I needed to lay down.

This is a day that would haunt me forever.