One. Two. Three.

April 21, 2011
By Anonymous

I looked down at Mommy from above. My body lay lifeless in her arms. Her long wavy brown hair draped flawlessly over her shoulder. I could hear her voice quiver as the tears rolled gently down her face on to my dead corpse.
“What did I do? What did I do?” Her body began to shake as the doorbell rang. Mom didn’t move. It was as if every joint in her body was frozen in place sticking her to the ground. The bell chimed again and was followed by a knock. Finally finding the strength to stand up, she walked to the door. Her face was a ghostly pale color that sent the cop into questioning mode immediately.
“Hi I’m officer Zeike.” My Mother made no sign of a response. His golden brown eyes were suddenly filled with fear. “Ma’am what happened?” Concern filled his voice as he sniffed the stiff air. Speechless, my Mommy turned slightly pointing her finger in the direction of what used to be me. My heart sunk as I wished I could take it all back just to see my mother happy again.
The cop just stared. Something about my dead body was enough to make everyone lifeless. He sauntered over to me and placed a hand on my temple. My cold skin sent a shiver through his body. The officer dropped his head as tears drifted to his eyes.
“Did you find her like this?” My Mother nodded slightly as a fresh set of tears spewed from her emerald green eyes. “She’s very beautiful. How old was she?” The softness of his voice seemed to calm my mother a little although they both continued to sniff from crying.
My Mom finally found the voice that was buried deep inside her. “Twelve.” She looked down at the floor shaking her head lightly back and forth.
The officer gulped as he sent out another question. “Do you know how it happened?” Losing her voice again, my Mommy covered her face, shook her head, and began to uncontrollably cry again.
The officer helped usher her into the living room where she fell silently into the white recliner. It was hard to see my Mother like this but I couldn’t stand the pain of being hurt everyday. I made my decision based solely for myself a mere three hours before her arrival.

I held my breath as I counted to three; one, two, three. The blade scraped across the surface of my skin sending a wave of pain through my body. I cringed as I dug the blade deeper. Tears filled my eyes as I watched the blood drip softly to the floor. I was sick. My whole world was sick. I couldn’t be happy ever again.

I went to school everyday just to escape the life threatening presence my home had to offer. It was today though, that I knew I wouldn’t be going to school. It was today that I knew I wouldn’t be waking up. It was today that I knew my life would end.

I continued to dig the knife deep until I felt the sharp blade scrape across my bone. I cried out in pain as tears flooded my eyes. I pulled the knife out of my skin as a feeling of nausea overcame me. In the next second I found my breakfast of oatmeal and raw eggs all over the floor. I could feel my organs failing as my head crashed to the soft carpet. The scent of blood and throw up filled my lungs as I felt round two come on. I held my stomach as the next batch released itself to the floor. My mind began swarming wondering if dying was worth all the pain. My mind then floated to two hours ago when I was beaten to the ground.

“You piece of dirt!” Spit landed carelessly on my face. “I don’t know why your mother gave birth to a thing like you.” My heart shrunk as I began to softly whimper. My mom’s new boyfriend hated kids and he especially hated me. While she worked, he would “take care of me” until she got home.

“Stand up!” I curled tighter into a ball. “I said stand up god d***it!” His voice boomed through the long white hallway I called home. I slowly unraveled myself to standing position only to find my head throbbing. No sooner had I been standing did I find Ben slamming his fist into my deteriorating stomach. I dropped to my knees clenching my stomach tight.

“Please stop.” My voice pleaded.

“Please stop. Please stop.” His mimicry was harsh and ruthless. The back of his hand swiped dangerously across my head. The rest of my body slammed to the floor. He finally began to walk away. “Go to your room. I don’t want to see you and your white trash face again until your mother’s home.” The punch in his voice sent a wave of tears crashing through my eyes. That’s when I decided I couldn’t do it anymore.

As my thoughts continued to gather I dug the knife into my wrist again. I was getting dizzy and I knew that I was going to die soon. Pain was no longer an enemy, but a friend. Hurting myself was the only way out and now killing myself was the only way to save me.

I weakly pulled the knife out one more time, took the biggest breath I could manage and dug it deep into my stomach. Everything blacked out and I knew I was dead.

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This article has 3 comments.

on Oct. 16 2011 at 9:57 am
Odessa_Sterling00 DIAMOND, No, Missouri
87 articles 108 photos 968 comments

Favorite Quote:
All gave some, some gave all. -War Veterans headstone.

It's for people who think they aren't strong enough to go on or want attention and think it's the ulimate way to get it. They could get a new hobbie, help people in need out, and so on.  Killing yourself is stupid.  Your taking away the greatest gift of all because you are not happy.  It's selfish.

Brie_W said...
on Oct. 16 2011 at 1:19 am
Brie_W, Costa Mesa, California
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
You obviously haven't felt like nothing is worth it before and that there is no point to going on. You shouldn't call them quitters. You should help them through their hard time.

on Apr. 26 2011 at 7:04 pm
Odessa_Sterling00 DIAMOND, No, Missouri
87 articles 108 photos 968 comments

Favorite Quote:
All gave some, some gave all. -War Veterans headstone.

Suicide is never a solution.  It's for quitters.  

Parkland Book