A featured story by Teen Fiction!
Highest Rank: #15 in Short Story
1st place winner of: The Mystical Awards!!!!
Watties Retry Awards Winner!
Featured in the Hot list and Rising list!
*****
» "Why don't you trust me? I can help you. I'll always be th...
I looked at the phone number as if seeing someone die right in front of my eyes.
Was my mom suffering so much that she needed this helpline number? Was she so weak that even the suicide helpline couldn't save her?
A number of questions were running in my mind.
Had she ever called the helpline?
What was the reason she called there?
What did she tell them?
Did they try saving her?
How long was she going through this?
My brain wasn't able to comprehend this newly found information and I broke down, crying profusely.
Why hadn't she tried speaking with me? Was suicide a better option than being with me?
All my brain was able to understand was the thing that, my mother had committed suicide and that she was trying to cope up with it, but wasn't successful. I didn't even know for how long she had been in depression.
I sat quietly, looking at the helpline number for a long time.
Was this helpline even helpful?
If yes, then why was my mother dead?
Was being alive so disastrous and unworthy?
For a split second, the thought of committing suicide came in my mind and I tried to remove that thought from my mind.
Be strong. You need to be strong.
But I couldn't. I couldn't be strong. My father was going to kill me himself someday. And even if he doesn't, I'd die myself daily because of his tortures. My mom was not there anymore to save me from him.
Death was certainly better.
I walked around my house for quite some time and then looked at the diary.
Picking up my mother's cell, I dialled the number. I had finally decided to call the suicide helpline.
*****
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
