Never again will I question why my mother left me the day I turned 13 -

They tell me it was because she had problems of her own,
how the nicotine wasn’t having the same effect it used to on her decaying brain,
and the fact that she moved on to doing much bigger and better things,
like forcing down two anti-depressants each morning even though the bottle said,
strictly,
to only take one by mouth every other day,
she’s danced with death on multiple occasions,
most that I was too young to remember,
but it’s hard to piece together the silent screams that were never given the chance to see the light of day,
the torture of the commands she was forced to obey in her head that was peacefully rested on her blood saturated pillow,
from the bullet that went right through her brain,
they tell me it was on purpose and that I couldn’t do anything to save a soul that was so lost,
its pieces with sharp shattered edges could never be glued back together,
that I should leave the dust gathered at my feet that I never really got the chance to understand,
they tell me she was a hopeless case,
unfixable,
they label me unlucky because of my age,
they tell me to stop searching for answers,
I will only get lies in response,
they tell me that when you used to look into her eyes you could see right through them,
emotionless,
from the medication the doctors gave her to convince her there was something wrong with her,
too underweight to push the food down that would be thrown up an hour later because of the pain,
they tell me she was always in pain,
so maybe my father did her a favor and put her out of her misery,
I am done listening to answers to questions I haven't asked yet,
but I desperately need to know,

What gave my father the right to murder my mother? -