Between The Devil And The Blue Sea

I never believed 13 is an unlucky number. Well, not until I turned thirteen. That's when my life came tumbling down on me. Thirteen was when my sister's life took a one-eighty. That's when he decided the tortuous countdown for her life to begin.

There aren't thirteen reasons why she did it, there is one. And let me tell you, that tiny little reason that drove her to end her life the way she did, is not 'tiny' at all. It's completely the opposite.

When I reached the conclusion that she'd been struggling in front of my eyes without me knowing, it was already too late. She had done it. She killed herself. Because of him. She was a fighter, but unfortunately, she wasn't a survivor. What he did to her was beyond cruel. He didn't realize he was driving her towards depression, let alone her own death. Well, I choose to believe he didn't care, because, come on, did he?

As for when I turned thirteen -when she committed suicide- it was my turn. But, no, I didn't see myself do what she did. I saw myself being able to stand tall and spit fuck you in his face without an ounce of intimidation. I wouldn't let him see my weaknesses and use them against me. Because he? is the devil.