?It all started with his suicide,? I stated.
Looking at the woman perched on her seat a crossed from me, as if asking permission to be discussing such a delicate subject. She gave me a half smile,
?It?s okay to discuss is , this is why you are here. We just want help for you, to make sure you?re?? she had paused, as if searching for the word that wouldn?t make me burst into tears, or even worse, stomp out on her.
Dealing with what happened, siscussing it was still a new thing. It wasn?t allowed at home- as if not talking about it, or mentioning it, would make it have not happened, but, you can?t just erase an entire life by not talking about it, by pretending it didn?t happen.
?Well, after it happened- after.. I saw it, all the blood, and the?.?
I took a deep breath, trying to stop the shaking in my voice and the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. Even after a few months, it was still a fresh, gaping wound in my mentality.
?Ever since then, I feel like, I can?t sleep ?and then I black out. Sometimes I don?t even know if I?m asleep, or if I?m even awake. I don?t even know if I?m awake right now!?
The last few words had my tone raising, until I was yelling without even knowing why. My shoulder slumped forward and I hung my head- there was obviously something wrong with me, something that I couldn?t control. No one else in my house was dealing with the same issues that I was. My mother had basically forgotten about it, going on and on about fivlous things and chatting to my father who just went along with how she was acting, even managing to smile and agree. MY older sister? She hadn?t been around, hadn?t helped to clean up the blood that soaked the carpet, that had splattered along the walls.
?It?s okay,? she consoled me again.
She was used to tears by now. Used to the sudden outbursts, the harsh words and even harsher tone. It was as if someone else had taken over my body, speaking and doing the actions that I was supposed to be doing. I was like a monster, trapped in my own body and unable to even move, think, without it?s permission.
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I never really hated school, sometimes even enjoyed the ays where I could talk to my friends, get away from the pressures of my family. Being the youngest child wasn?t all it was hyped up to be- there was no way I was the baby in my family, but that wasn?t really an issue. I had an older brother who I loved, and who would talk to me every day after school, let me discuss the latest gossip. He had never really fit in with our family- always more laid back, down to earth. I never really knew why he did what he did. They say when you commit suicide you?re supposed to leave a note, or at least confess to someone.
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He never did. Before he put the bullet into his head, he just looked at me and smiled.
It took weeks before I could ever go into the room again, and it was horrible. It was my room. My room had been defiled.
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I woke up today. I didn?t know where I was for a few moments, until I looked around and realized I was at school, holding onto my books. A friend of mine- Sarah- was giving me the weirdest look.
?Hello? We were talking and now, you look all, blank.?
I stared at her. I was talking? I was at school? The last thing I remember was taking a shower, putting on my pajamas, and then nothing.
With a quick shake to my head, and a smile at Sarah, I gave my shoulders a shrug and attempted a wispy smile in her direction, ?I just, remembered something.? The excuse seemed to work, and she smiled, going back to what we must have been discussing- How she didn?t understand how I had done it, gone to work and school, and still managed to find time to be with my family.
I didn?t have the heart to tell her that I didn?t know. I had never done that sort of thing. That had been my brothers problems, back when he was still in school.
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This morning, when I went to eat something, I blacked out. Three hours later I woke up, staring at the bowl of soggy cereal. Most of the wheat-thingies had grown triple their size and started falling apart in the bowl. I was supposed to be at school, but could hardly even move, so terrified that they were still happening, even after I started to see the Psychiatrist.
?So, you see, I just.. I keep having them, you know? I don?t even know how to control them.?
I was back in her office, trying to plead with her, let her understand that I wasn?t doing it to myself, I just.. I couldn?t help it.
?It?s okay, but we are going to offer you some sleeping medication. Hopefully, if we get your sleep schedule back on track, this will stop happening.?
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I don?t remember getting the pills- I don?t remember taking them, but I must have. I woke up in the morning, groggy, tired, and shuffled into the bathroom. Or at least, I hoped I did. Before I could o more than walk to the door the rushing blackness over took me again.
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The man?s eyes snapped open, green optics dilated as he stared up at the white lights above him, they were bright, too bright, and stung his eyes. Blinking a few times, the man groaned. His head ached, and throbbed. ?What happened, where am I?? He managed to ask out loud, his voice raspy and nasally.
?It?s okay Shane, Its okay. We had to put you in here? Your sister committed suicide. You started acting strange- wearing her clothing, going to her school. We did it for your own safety.?
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