Survivor

Part 7

I've heard that lots of kids are happy he's gone. They say he was a dick and a bully. Mainly Marissa though. She never liked him but Quinten wasn't like that. He had it rough and what he did he did with good intentions. He just wanted to be approved by everyone. He told me so himself that he hates himself. He was picked on and bullied as a kid. When he turned it around everyone liked him so he kept doing it and hurt everyone he was told to. Then his mother got cancer. She always told him it was gonna be okay but eventually it wasn't. Quinten would stay there day in and day out, every night just to stay with her. One night when he woke up she was just gone.
-Quinten-
My eyes flung open as people came into the room. I looked around confused. They pushed me out the door but didn't shut it. I stood watching the 3 people. One of them was looking at their watch while, another holding a clipboard, while the other was standing next to the machine.
"Pull the plug." The one with the clipboard said. Everything came rushing in as the loud long beep filled the air. This can't be happening. Not yet, not like this. After they left and silence filled the air I fell down besides the bed which held my dead mother. I grabbed onto her hand as tears fell down my cheeks. It felt like my heart was ripped apart, put back together, then ripped apart all over again.
"Ma!" I cried "I love you." I coughed whilst crying but then got more angry rather than sad. She was alive and they just cut her off like they had a choice in the matter. I quickly got up and right before I left the room I looked back at my mother and smiled my eyes filling with tears again. I turned and quickly left the room then hospital. I pulled my keys from my pocket and jumped into my car. I left the hospital parking lot and drove home quickly. When I got home and swung the door open I saw my father sitting at the table his head in his hands staring at the table. When he looked up to see me his face was red and swollen from tears. The anger I was feeling drifted away and the pain of loss hit like a truck. My father stood and I ran to him. As we hugged I cried into his shoulder glad he had been in my corner my whole life. We always had a great father son relationship even with the bullying. "Useless, ugly, faggot, kill yourself" and every other thing you can imagine.
"It's okay son. She was in pain and it's for the best." He said hugging me tightly
"What do you mean for the best?" I scoffed backing up
"It was my decision and I didn't want your mother to suffer anymore." My father said sternly.
"She was gonna be okay!" I yelled "I know she's gonna be okay." I said softly falling down to the floor.
"Quinten-"
"I'm fine!" I interrupted. "You didn't have the right to do that. You murderer." I glared at my father before running to my room. When the door shut behind me it was like all my walls fell that instant. Tears quickly came as I paced my room.
"Mommy." I mumbled repeatedly as I cried. For weeks I stayed up night and day crying. When I wasn't in my room I was a walking zombie. I had dark circles under my eyes and I stopped talking. I stopped eating and my grades dropped. After about a month kids started picking on me.
I slammed the bathroom door and looked in the mirror. My bloody lip stung and then the tears started flowing again.
"God damnit! You weak, useless, failure! You're mom died because of you. Because you didn't love her enough." I wiped my eyes and left the bathroom.
"Dad." I said looking around
"What's up." He said sitting on the couch.
"I just wanted you to know that I love you and I'm sorry." I coughed and quickly went back upstairs.
"Quinten? Quinten!" My father yelled. I heard him get up and follow me but I quickly shut the bathroom door. As he approached I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of Advil. My father banged at the door as my shaky hands opened it.
"Quinten I'm coming in." He said softly. I quickly poured the bottle into my mouth swallowing as much as I could.
"Quinten!" My father yelled grabbing the bottle.
"I'm sorry." I cried. I hugged my dad tightly but suddenly I didn't feel to good. I squeezed my dad tight as my legs gave out. I felt myself about to throw up but held it down. My dad pulled me away as I went limp. He looked at me with wide eyes. My lips tinted blue and my pupils dilated. I crumpled down onto my knees and my father went with me.
"Quinten?" My father said shaking me as we both sat on the ground. I woke up in the hospital and not long after was admitted to the psyche ward. When I got out I stood up for myself and everyone loved it so I started being the "bad boy" and I guess people are right. Fake it till you make it.