Last Thoughts

The End

I drew in my breath. It was sharp. If you listened closely you could hear the sound of the last of my innocence escaping my body. I laid on the floor of my room, blood from my arms beginning to pool around me as the oxytocin set in. If there was one good thing my dad ever did to me, it was getting sick. Because I needed those pills more than he did.

I look at myself in the mirror propped up against my wall and I laugh. I looked like a freak, not that I didn't normally. But now more so, my hair usually curly, brown, and off my forehead, now laid matted and looked like a shit smear. I was pale. Paler than I'd seen myself look in a long time.

I was happy once.

I honestly believe myself when I say that. I grew up in a suburban dream, manicured lawns and block parties. I had a sister named Ellie. My mom and dad were in love back then. Light still shined from my moms eyes when she spoke. Dad could get through more than a couple sentences without throwing himself into a coughing fit, and Ellie was just Ellie. Sweet and innocent, her seven year old smile had filled the room as she rambled on about her imaginary world of pirates and unicorns.

I was a good son, I was decent at school. I would never be valedictorian, but a C+ in math didn't mean the end of the world. God. I miss that.

It's been different since Dad fucked us all over, it wasn't his fault. But part of me blames him for everything going to shit.