Death's lesson

Humiliation at the dinner table

"Stop," I mumbled incoherently, someone was shaking me awake,

"Miaaaaa" the voice was slurred in my ears, and the person speaking wouldn't stop shaking me.

Finally, I lazily cracked one eye open. It was Cara, "It's time for dinner."

"Okayyyy, I'll be down in a minute,"

I sat up, too quickly, "ooh, head rush" I winced,

"What's in your hair?" Cara asked quizzically.

I stood up, looking at my scratched face in my antique mirror, I looked at my hair, it was blood, my blood, matting a chunk of my hair together, "Um, I'm not sure," l lied.

Cara walked out of my room, and I heard her prance down the stairs.

I grabbed a wash cloth out of the bathroom and got it damp with warm water, dabbing the dried blood off of my face. I looked in the mirror, and saw my ugly green eyes, straight brown hair, my black Nirvana t-shirt with my plain jeans and freckles everywhere.

I thought of Cara, with her curly blond hair, watery blue eyes, and her porcelain skin. She was only 12 and she already knew who she was, and where she belonged. She was a musician; a violinist, and an amazing one, too. Sometimes I wished I could be more like Cara, the only thing we really shared was our never-ending amount of freckles.

⌠♡⌡

I hate family dinners, they're full of either silence or dull conversation with the sound of forks scraping plates.

But this dinner was the worst of them all, my dad started started talking about renewing my therapy contract from 2 years ago, when I attempted suicide, I knew they could tell I was getting depressed again. How humiliating! Cara didn't even know about that, and everyone was planning to keep it that way, well, everyone except my dad. I looked at Cara's heartbroken face, and mine shattered. I threw down my napkin, giving my dad the death stare and stomped upstairs into my room, locking the door behind me.

I thought of the rope.

Was it the answer?

I pulled myself up, and walked over to my closet. Standing on my tippy-toes, I pulled out an old shoebox, behind that I saw the bag with the noose inside.

I glanced toward my door, making sure it was locked.

I pulled out the noose, my hands were shaking,

I put the noose on my neck, feeling instant relief. I sighed, flopping into my bed.

But, there was something else, some other feeling in the back of my mind that I couldn't quite determine.

It was fear.