Lauren Sanders is struggling to rebuild her life with her aunt and cousin after her family's tragic death. But what no one knows is the truth about two things: how her parents really died and her battle with schizophrenia.
One day, Lauren stumbles...
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An everyday decision takes an average person about 10 minutes to decide. Decisions are predicted by brain activity before they are made consciously. And according to research, your brain may take up to 10 seconds before you realize it.
Elise probably decided to kill herself within those ten seconds that day—the day I stood there watching her corpse dangling from the ceiling fan, itching like a worm, seconds before she breathed the life out of her. And it probably took me at least ten seconds to grasp and process what was going on.
It was either fight, flight, or freeze for me at the time, and I just froze. Most people don't believe it, especially those who were (and possibly still consider themselves to be) friends with my sister. Even mom didn't believe me. In those moments, I recall shivering and looking blankly at my sister's lifeless body. Everything seemed like they froze at that point or everything else slowed down.
I remember staring at mom and feeling nothing. I didn't feel anything when I peered into her eyes but I remember the way she stared at me, with her eyes prickling with tears as she moved her mouth, and hearing nothing. I remember dad panicked and dialing 911 on his phone while his other hand stroked his temples. I recall mom sobbing on the floor. The remainder of it just flashed in front of my eyes. When the ambulance came to our house, we rushed Elise to the hospital. As Elise was taken into the emergency room, Mom and Dad ran alongside the nurses and doctors. Me, standing there, waiting for them in the hospital, and still feeling nothing.
I watched as the doctors leave the emergency room, two of them approached mom and dad, one with his head bowed and the other gazing at my mother, mumbling the words, "I'm so sorry for your loss."
When the three of us returned home from the hospital, Mom never left their bedroom for days. She cried most nights, and in several instances, I would watch her sleep in my sister's room. I knew that Dad did his best to support what was left of us, but I would occasionally hear him cry in the middle of the night as he poured himself a glass of Lagavulin 16-Year-Old Scotch Whisky, something to drown his voiceless feelings filled with regret and blame.
After we held a memorial service for Elise at which almost every student in our school, including the teachers had attended, I remember several people approaching me and apologizing for our loss and the things they lacked as a friend or an acquaintance of my sister's; telling me things such as they could've done something or more, could've seen some signs, could've... would've... should've... words that mirrored the deepest part of myself.
I remember Dad being concerned that I might be going through something similar with Elise. I overheard Mom and Dad discussing late one night, practically arguing, before coming to terms to let me see a psychiatrist--to talk about my feelings and what I'm going through or have gone through since witnessing Elise kill herself in front of me was such "a traumatic experience" dad said.
I know deep down that I'm handling things better than my mom and that she, not I, needs to visit a psychiatrist. However, I promised both of them that I would consult with a professional and that I would also consult with them.
