{COMPLETED} ✔ December Bloom

twelve

-Flashback-

"God! Hurry up, Rick, will you? I need the bathroom desperately." I banged on the door a few more times. Shuffling sounds could be heard.

"Hurry up!" I growled once more.

This carried on for about 5 minutes until I realized there was nothing. No noise, only silence.

"Rick?" I said, a lot more quieter. I repeated his name over and over until I realized that I was screaming, banging the door like a lunatic.

My brother. My brother.

My dad came up, mom following with my baby sister in her arms.

We called his name and there was nothing.

My dad cursed and kicked the door, luckily it was old and gave way easily under his foot.

I was shocked.

My brother lay by the side of the bathtub, his wrists slit, blood pouring out as he turned his head in my direction, giving me a faint smile.

I screamed louder, my mom gasping behind me.

"Call the ambulance!" my father shouted as he stepped into the bathroom with mom who had shoved my sister into my hands. She started to wail as I dashed downstairs towards the phone.

Later, we learned that Rick had apparently cut a very important artery in the wrist and that he would've been dead had I not found him later than I did.

Had we not burst in the door when we did.

Had the ambulance not arrived the time they did.

-End Flashback-

I think my brother realizes how close he came to dying. My mother and father were so upset with him, he had to go for counselling, rehab and all that kind of stuff.

This was the reason why dad distanced himself from us.

I think he's being stupid, my dad I mean. He's meant to be a father, to care for his family and what does he do? Distances himself away from his family. I guess the thing with Rick got to him or something. I really don't know.

Rick has become better though and now, he's back to being the old Rick, the exact way he was before. He's moved out though, got his own place saying he needs to learn to be more responsible and all that. I love my brother very much (and hate him sometimes, still), more now than before because even I realized how close he came to dying that day. He works in a small restaurant by day, plays gigs in his band by night. I get many calls from him and I do believe we're closer, more sibling love developing between the two of us. He never removed the piercings, tattoos or hair dye. He said that he would keep them as a memory of what happened, to remind him of the consequences.

I'm glad that Rick is way better now.

My sister is still ignorant of what happened that day. She was only 1 then, 7 now. I love my baby sister but I'm slightly afraid of what's going to happen. After all, she is living with my scary mom.

I do feel burdened though sometimes. Because Rick is no longer perfection, the job is passed down to me. I have to be perfection because I am the second oldest child and because I was the one who found Rick.

Although over the years, I've learned to try and forget about these memories. I have a life, I can't dwell on the past, I need to be focused for the future.

So, I try hard not to let these things get me down.

I've made my decision to put it in the past and that's what I'm trying really hard to do now.

Other people in my situation would've broken down by now or started drinking irresponsibly what with all the pressure from parents or something like that.

Or become a little 'emo' kid as some people would say.

Maybe.

I don't know.

All I know is that no way am I going to start drinking all because of this. I'm meant to be a strong person and a strong person I have to be. No easy way out from here, I have to face it.

So, I try and erase that memory and do what my mom tells me even though I suffer because of it.

I don't let the past get me down. I live life and get on with it, put it all behind me and all that stuff.

I'm certainly not going to become depressed.

Jenna and Wes know this and completely understand, I love them so because of that. Especially since they're the ones who know what to do and what not.

I hate pity and sympathy. It's like, 'Aw, poor little Norah has had such a hard past.'

I feel all squirmy then and…small.

People who think or even say this kind of thing make me feel helpless and weak.

And I do not want to feel that again.

Maybe that's the reason why I'm such a bitch sometimes.