Letters To Shay||✓

chapter three.

My parents were rarely at home. My dad was the chief Marketer of Mundane, Sons and Co., one of the top production companies. Therefore, he was always moving around, with the other 'big boys' of the company. Even when he took a leave, he and my mum would go on a romantic getaway in Jamaica or Fiji or Hawaii. Mum had different business outlets all over the state. She didn't trust many people, so she put herself in charge of every one of them. They did come home once or twice every four months, but it was like they weren't even there. If not for the random pictures hung at every corner of the house, I would have forgotten their faces.

So it was an eye-bulging surprise when they came home Saturday morning with bags of different shapes and sizes. Crazies #1 and #2 ran to them and showered them both with hugs and kisses, complimenting each other. My dad forced a smile [that I know didn't reach his eyes] at his son when he came to greet his parents. From the looks on both of their faces, I could tell they wanted to be anywhere but here; their home. Was it even their home anymore?

My mum must have expected me to come to come and hug her. That woman was dead wrong. Instead I gave them both a curt nod and hardened my face. My parents exchanged curious glances and turned to look at me. My sisters immediately fell quiet. Brother mine looked from Dad and Mum to me and back. The tension in the living room was like a jungle; almost impossible to cut through- and I was sure everyone could feel it.

Brother mine was the one to break the tension. "Hey, Mum, Dad, are those gifts for us?"

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As soon as the 'make-up' gifts [I called them that because my parents were using it as a cover up for their absence at home] were distributed, I marched upstairs, ignoring everybody except my brother. I flipped face down on the bed and groaned. This was so not how I planned my Saturday. Crazie #1 came knocking on my door [banging, actually] and demanded I came out and apologize for my rudeness. I scoffed. They shouldn't be expecting an apology from me. She tried coming in, but I had locked the door. Ha! In your face, Crazie! After she realised that banging on my door wasn't getting her anywhere with me, she resorted to pleading. At first it was fun hearing her beg me, but then I grew tired. So I took a paper and a pen, and wrote her a very rude message. I slid it under the door and grinned evilly. I expected her to start yelling and begin World War III with me. What I didn't expect, however, was a loud sigh and retreating footsteps.

*Trigger warning. Please proceed with caution*

Shrugging, I walked to my study table, my fingers tracing a line as I walked across it. A picture frame of me, my mum and my dad was sitting there. The picture was taken ten years ago, at my paternal grandfather's eighty-fourth birthday, and we were still genuinely happy. Before they buried themselves with work and abandoned their children. Anger, no, pure hatred burned inside me and my fingers were itching for destruction. To hurt. To ruin. My heart pounded loudly against its cage and it began to hurt. What had my family become? What happened to 'stick through thick and thin'? They abandoned us. Me. Was something wrong with me? Did they hate me?

Tears were running down my face at this point and I was in pains. My chest was tightening and it felt like a large hole was in there, sucking in my air and life force. I slid down the wall in a puddle.of tears. I was a mess. I needed to feel numb. Pain; I didn't want to feel pain. Not this kind of emotional pain. Physical pain, I could handle. But emotions were one thing I hated to feel. I managed to stand up and stagger to the bathroom. I quickly shrugged off my sweatpants and picked up the blade on the bathroom sink. Putting the blade and slicing my skin made me squeak in pain. Squeezing my eyes shut, I put the blade on another part of my inner thigh and sliced. Feeling the blood gush out gave me a sick, twisted pleasure and I let out a very crazy laugh that echoed off the bathroom walls. Wiping the blade on my shirt, I hid it under the bin and leaned against the wall, letting out ragged breaths. More blood gushed out, I noticed, but I did nothing. Slowly, my eyes began to shut. I didn't resist the heaviness of my eyes and my brain already shutting down. I just welcomed the beautiful black engulfing me.