I used to lie awake at night pondering suicide as my parents screamed at each other over the latest damage. Staring at the ceiling and running my fingers over a new bruise my father had given me or a fresh cut acquired from a fight at school; scenarios of my suicide formed themselves in my mind. Like; after my parents banished me to my room, I would take a detour and use my father's pistol to yell back at them and pull the trigger. Or; I'd be at school with the pistol warm in my pocket and I would simply take a pass to the restroom and pull the trigger. Easy as that.

As much as the gun suicides came to mind, it was too messy for me. I figured that I would commit suicide with a blade to my wrists. I mean, you have to have a little blood, but not enough to make your gamily disgusted.

"What do you want, Harry?! What do you want me to do?!" My mother's voice broke my concentration on the Algebra homework in front of me. My eyes darted to the clock on my wall, nine o' clock; right on schedule. I shut my book as my father replied to her shouting. I wouldn't be able to work with their voices echoing through the apartment anyway, I don't know how the neighbours even stand it.

"Get her out of the house!"

That one sentence struck out at me. Usually I can slide my headphones on and blast Chop Suey to drown the voices, but before I could find my headphones.

"It's your entire fault we had her anyway!" My father's voice once again stuck to me.

A blatant crash was heard and again, her voice rising with every syllable, "My fault?! I don't believe you are trying to pin the birth of our daughter on me! Rain has never done anything horrible to you in her life!"
I felt hot tears flood my eyes at the epiphany. My father hates me. But why.?

"Don't start with all that 'Innocent Rain' shit, Rebecca! You know she's the reason we barely have any money!"

Tears stained my cheeks now; I had given up on searching for my headphones. Their voices rang throughout the apartment, every now and then something would crash to the ground in anger, and the screaming heighten. A sudden fire fell to my knees, searching under my bed for a small shoebox. It slid out smoothly as the tears begin to slow down. I ripped off the lid and brought out the kitchen knife that I stole from my friend just over three months ago.

The handle was a deep reddish-brown colour and the grooves fit perfectly to my hand. The blade reflected the light and showed my tear streaked face. I grimaced at the sight and turned it away, the tip pointing at the wall. Knife still in hand, I stood from the floor and begin ripping posters off the wall, my eyes watering once more. My nails made contact with the plywood every time, but it didn't stop me.

With the wall bare, my nails chipped and bleeding and my whole body shaking with anxiety, I slammed the tip into the wood, dragging it down a little ways. One slash at the top and one at the bottom and then I stepped to the side and created a similar line without the slashes. A circle next to it, a flipped half triangle and so on until my wall boasted 'I love you' in jagged letters.

My hand ached with pain and my eyes swollen with tears, I stared at my handiwork for a few moments. Then, letting all my emotions free, I attacked the wall once more except this time; I surrounded the phrase with the full names of all my friends. While I carved everything, my parents fought and swore loudly, eventually falling off the topic of me but still breaking items. The last letter added to the last name, I heard a knick come to the door of the apartment. It was answered and a policeman's voice seeped through the walls.

"I've had a couple of complaints come in about this apartment disturbing others-"

My father's voice interrupted and I fell to my knees again and admired my work through tears. I read over each name as the knife rested on my upturned wrist, the tiny points already piercing my skin.

"Sir, please calm yourself or we will have to take action."

"What are you going to do, arrest me?!"

I blinked and rivers of tears gushed down my cheeks as I held my wrist up high with the knife still attached. I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, gripped the handle tightly and brought it down in one fluid motion. Malice throbbed in my heart and the blood poured from the gash, staining my clothes and the carpet slightly. The warm liquid seemed to burn as it dripped down my arm and the tears pulsed fiercely, running over my curved lips. I placed the knife to my wrist just lower of the first gash, pressed hard and sliced again. More blood rushed out and the way the pain flashed through my body, I knew I hit the perfect spot.

Already lightheaded, I switched hands and pierced the clean wrist just as the other. I was about to go for thirds when my hand gave a violent shudder, sending the knife and myself to the ground. My cheek landed on the torn posters and one of my wrists right next to my face. I watched the blood surge from it, a fading smile plastered on my face as everything diminished around me. I heard a noise in the distance and felt my body being moved till I was looking straight into two familiar eyes of my neighbour. I used my last bit of strength to smile and whisper my final words.

"It's finally over."