'A Special Kind Of Suicide'

2-Foreshadowed Thoughts

24th March:
I assumed the usual disapproving looks being fired at me from every angle on the bus were catalysed by the determined and feministic yet so harmonic voice of P!nk leaking from my earphones. Leave me alone,i'm lonely? What a fucking coincidence! My whole life had just become a blur and all i could focus on was the harm i could inflict upon myself later. I finally neared my decaying front door, my head spinning. I burst inside only to be greeted by my unusually cheery mother. Dont get me wrong, she's lovely but she can be super self centered sometimes. She picks her damn monents. I was far from in the mood to listen to whatever she was going to chirp at me, but being the darling daughter i am, i listened as intently as possible when all your head is focused on is your own self destruction.

"Do you know what this means for us as a family?"

"Sav"

"Savannah are you even listening to me?"

I shot back into reality and had to perform a bit of a quick thinking stunt.

"Sorry mom, i was listening. I just didn't understand." I lied. "I've had a bit of a hard day."

Clearly disgruntled, she exclaimed "What is there to understand? Elliot is developing into an independent young man which means i have got myself a part time job at Starbucks! I have been sorting this for a while, but i didn't want to get your hopes up for you to drown in uncertainty... But this means so many more privileges for all of us!"

She seemed to be getting higher as she got more excited; it was eating away at the very little strength i had left. I managed to mumble a "hm, sounds great" before she obviously noticed the despondency in my eyes and encased me in a tight cuddle. I'm glad Mom isn't one for sympathy, instead of asking me to talk to her. She let me go upstairs to get a bath. The bathroom was always a huge trigger for me, i hate to be stereotypical but, the lack of dominant male figure in the household probably led to the mouldy silicone around the bath and the cracking paint on the ceiling. I would rather not go through details of why the bathroom is a triggering place for me but lets just say it is even more tempting because i don't have to share (Elliott has a special bathroom.) FUCK! I hate using the word special aimed at him. If you have already guessed that i do more than wash,get ready and use the toilet for its desired purpose in my bathroom, I'm so sorry.

I wearily unzipped my makeup bag, in search of something sharp. I found an eyeliner pencil sharpener and crushed it against the tiles. It hurt but it was the release i needed. I had a blade, a screw and a sharp piece of plastic. The only question now was what to use first. I reached for the blade and pressed it against my already scarred wrist. Each day the question of wether to reach for a vein crossed my thoughts but this time i was rudely awoken by a thud followed by Mom screaming at Elliott.

"I swear you do this on purpose sometimes! You're a crank and i didn't  ask for a downy in my family! My life would be so much easier without you."

The bitch. Told you she was self centred at times. I couldn't let this go. Fair enough Elliott is a little hard work at times but I'm sure  if it was up to him, he wouldn't be like he is either. I couldn't let this go. I was currently naked and wet with blood trickling down my arms. Just my fucking luck. Consequently, i threw a towel around my shoulders and reached for a roll of vet wrap. I lined it with tissue and attempted to self bandage my arm. My eyes were filled with bitter tears and despite working with horses that required my damn fine purple spray skills, i was unable to do anything successful trapped in the moment. At this point, i was so full of resentment that I didn't care. I walked through to Elliott's room where my darling, ever so cherubic mother was whispering sweet nothings to him. If you can't tell, I'm awful with sarcasm which is why I'm so straight to the point. I couldn't believe what i was seeing. I've used the grounding technique during many panic attacks but this time i had to force myself back into the room just to let myself know i was alive and my Mom who taught me to treat everyone as i wanted to be treated was actually imitating my disabled brother and laughing at the obvious pain in his deep blue eyes.

I've always been quite a docile one, purely because it's easier, but i just completely lost my cool. I'm normally amazing with comebacks, but today my anger took over. I screamed everything i was feeling at her while she shook her head at me. I launched forward to comfort Elliott who was now in hysterics, his pillow flooded with tears and snot, only to be met by a clenched fist colliding with my temple.