An awkward air fills the car as we leave the parking lot. She doesn’t seem to be talking much about my motives. Hilary must have told her everything. As my mother rattles on about work, she smiles.She must think I’m an idiot.Trying to off myself out of fear.

That’s all I am.

A coward.

Father is watchingTV asmy mother caters to him. Its the average everyday life of our home.

Sitting in my room,staring at the wall, I pick at my bandages. There’s nothing I want to do anymore. Nothing is good. Iwonder if the bathroom is cleaned up. I stand up, walk out to the hall, and wander downtowards the stairs.I can see from here that they didn’t replace the door.

It turns out blood can really stain pristine white tiles and a counter.

I stand and stare at the place that, just three days prior, I was in the midst of trying to die. My arm twinges in pain. I grab the bandage with my free hand and wince.

I remember the blade was amazing. It felt so raw. As my blood was pouring out, my worries went with it. It felt good.