She locked the door and opened the cupboard, pulling out a small cloth-covered object, hidden beneath layers of towels and sorrows. Her small hand slowly unfolds the layers of fabric, tears falling, dripping, streaming onto the peeling linoleum floor.

Her sadness revealed a blade, a short razor blade that relieves her pain. In this bathroom lies her therapy and her one and only companion. Her fingertips brush the sharp metal, drawing blood that trickles to form perfectly straight lines down her hand.

She stopped to listen to the screams and shouts outside her sanctuary. They got louder and louder, until suddenly, they stopped. Her hand grasped for the blade, picking it up gently with her thumb and forefinger. Her grip got harder, more forceful, as she stared at the beautiful device. One swift, clean cut and this could all go away. That’s all it takes, she thought. That’s all she needed.

She bit her lip as she brought the blade closer and closer to the beautifully scared flesh of her arm. Holding it still above the tissue, she waited. Memories flood her mind, good and bad. But all she could remember is pain; tearing pain that cascaded from her soul; unbearable pain. Anger pumped through her veins, mating with adrenaline. Carefully and cautiously, she brought the blade down on her arm, and ran a straight race of red across her forearm.

The pain was amazing, but reassuring. She could feel. It was possible. Her emotions escaped with her blood, seeping along the stained white sink to disappear down the drain. A cry almost escaped her, but her pain had no voice. It could scream and shout, and no one would notice. She ignored the shouts of anger outside the thin, flaking walls. Crying a steady stream of tears, she wished it could all end, for this life to fade away, for no one to remember…

XxXxX

Stepping out of the shadows of the dimly lit bathroom, she subconsciously pulled on the sleeve of her shirt, hiding the hideous act of self-mutilation from the penetrating eyes of the world.

A shrill shout came from mere meters away, but she turned her cheek to the animosity of her broken home, and headed quietly up the stairs. Her footsteps made a hollow sound on creaking wood, taking her to the one place she couldn’t be harmed. Once there, she locked the door behind her.

She could still hear it.

It was always there.

The screams.

The shouts.

The sobs.

She could still hear it.

It was always there…

“What do you want from me, huh? Do you want me to leave? Because I will! It’s better than staying with you in this fucking shit-hole!” the woman shouted, her fists balled.

“Leave for all I fucking care! Do you honestly think I still want you here? I’ve been waiting for the day you leave!” the man responded. His anger was evident, and showed more with every verbal blow he threw at her.

“You know what? Fuck you. I don’t want to be here! I’m only fucking staying for the girl!” the woman threw back.

“Oh yeah, right. The girl. You fucking whore! How the fuck do I even know it’s mine, huh? You probably banged everything in pants! You don’t even care about the girl, so stop using her as your damn excuse!” he shouted back, raising his hand to strike her across the face. The sound echoed through the broken kitchen.

“Oh you motherfucker! I’m going to get your ass for domestic abuse! You can’t pull that shit on me! We’ll laugh at you, me and the girl, when they throw your ass in jail!” she retorted, a red spot growing on her cheek.

“The girl again? Oh yeah, you’ll be best fucking friends once my ass is gone! Well it won’t take that long! I hope to fucking God you die, bitch.”

“And I hope to fucking God that she doesn’t end up like you! And I hope you burn for what you’ve put us through!” she screamed, a single tear of frustration running for its life down her cheek.

“Oh suck it up, bitch! You’ve put her through hell, too!”

“Get out of my fucking HOUSE! Just leave! Get the fuck out!” she screamed, gesturing wildly to the door. “Get out! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!”

“Fuck this, I’m already gone!” he exclaimed, smashing his unfinished beer bottle on the counter. The tiny fragments of glass scattered across the peeling linoleum, slicing through her feet like tiny razorblades, and shredding them to bits. And with that, he marched out the door, leaving a trail of muddy boot prints behind him.

The woman collapsed, falling to the floor, away from the glass. Hugging herself with her thin, bony arms, she sobbed into her hair.

Shaking, she got up and made her way to the kitchen table, seating herself on the ripped seat cover. Silently, she pulled out a cigarette, lit it up, and sucked in the sweet tobacco. The filter burned at her lips, but the feeling was reassuring. She flicked the beautiful ashes onto the floor, rubbing them with the heel of her foot, watching the remains of the cigarette form round circles on the floor.

Flicking her ashes onto the ground again, she tossed it to the floor and butted it out. As the ashes hit the floor like pixie dust, tears made their ways down her cheeks.

Upstairs, in the security of her room, the girl silently sobbed into her blankets. Was this the life she lived? Was this normal?

When normal meant living each day in fear of your life, yes, she supposed, this was normal.

XxXxX

The bell rang loud and clear, but it was barely heard above the thunder that clashed outside. Head low, she walked in from the pouring rain, overly large sweater dripping and her hair covering her face. Her skin looked unnaturally white and as she rubbed her left hand over her right forearm, someone might have noticed the dark lines marring her porcelain skin. But no one noticed.

No one ever noticed.

She looked up briefly, haunting grey eyes dark as the clouds outside, and then focused on the floor again. She slowly dragged her feet down the hallway, not noticing the laughing teenagers around her, as they returned the favor. With a harsh glare in the direction of a boy who walked into her, she opened her locker, void of decorations except for a single picture. It showed a smiling family, a boy, about the age of 16, a girl, 14 years old, and two happy parents, the mom and dad, smiling indulgently at their children. It was a picture of perfection.

It was a lie.

She slammed her door shut, aware that she was late, but she didn't care. Her steps were slow and deliberate, echoing through the now empty hallway. She turned the corner and saw students still at their lockers, then realized that it was only the warning bell, and that she wasn't late at all.

She glanced up and saw her homeroom down a small ways. Her vision, though, started to swim and she clutched her head. She closed her dark eyes and suddenly, the room seemed dead and void of any energy, but at the same time like everything was moving in fast forward around her while she was stuck on rewind. She crouched on the balls of her feet, one hand on her head, the other on her chest. Her blood rushed through her body, and her breathing was labored. Her gasps sounded harsh, and within seconds all she could hear was her own heartbeat, pounding, thumping, reverberating in her ears. She felt like she was suffocating, clawing for air. She clutched her wrist and tried to find her pulse, but no thoughts could form in her head. She felt as if she was locked down, trapped.

Trapped in her own mind.

As quickly as it had all come, it vanished. Her breathing came quickly, and she opened her mouth to the cool, sweet air. Her heartbeat calmed slowly, and the pounding in her head settled into a steady, comforting, soft beat. With a quick breath she opened her eyes and tried to regain her composure. The room slowed, and no one noticed the lonely, pale, dark-eyed creature crouching on the floor.

She moved to stand up and gather her books when she noticed something sticky on her hand. She looked and found something red, dark, and shining. There were bits of…something, lodged under her pointed nails, something small and pink looking…flesh. Her eyes switched to her left wrist and saw four nail marks, shaped as crescent moons, depressed in her skin. From one, tiny rivulets of blood were crawling down her forearm, snaking their way toward her elbow. More streams started to fall from the other three, and all continued in the same path. With eerily bright, and yet dark, eyes, she watched as they hung on her skin, clutching, before one solitary ruby let go and fell silently, landing with a splash of crimson.

She watched with fascinated eyes as the river of blood fell and slowly created a small puddle. She reached out to touch it; this, the thing that kept her alive, dancing just before her touch. Her heartbeat sped up again, pounding in her ears. Images flashed before her eyes, just out of recognition, and yet clear as day. All the memories came flooding back, and she subconsciously clenched her fist. Her vision started to blur, no longer seeing the pool in front of her, but she wasn't looking anyway. She was so close, just a few more inches and it would be her life back in her grasp; it would be the rain soaked shirt again; the blood rushing through her veins, suffocating her, denying her of her life by her life's essence; her breathing fast and irregular, hitching in her throat; it would be the same as had happened with—

The bell rang. She blinked. This time she was late for class. She stood up and stared for a few seconds at the dried blood on her arm. She gathered her books and felt something wet on her face. Realizing they were tears she brushed them aside, just like she always did, put on her mask of normality as she always did, and pulled the sleeve over her arm, just as she always did. With alien strength she formed a fake and yet real composure and walked into her classroom.

XxXxX

Last hour of the day is always the one when people are anxious to leave. Go home, relax in front of the TV, change into shorts and pig out on junk food. Enjoy a simple, typical life, basically. But for her, she never wanted to go home again. Not back to that hellhole. And if that meant staying at the school, then so be it. If that meant running away, then so be it. If that meant changing her name and adopting a new identity, then so be it.

If that meant killing herself, then so be it.

The rain hadn’t stopped pouring yet, and it offered a very unwelcome companion on her walk home. Well, usually she wouldn’t have to walk home, except that she had missed the bus; or more, it had left without her. With a grim sigh she picked up her backpack and walked out into the rain. Not a word left her mouth, not a breath was louder than normal, and not a glance to show that she hated every second. The rain was too much like her family: always getting to her skin, but never doing any damage. Until, of course, she caught sick. That was the consequences of their actions on her. She was very sick; so sick of them that she would go to drastic measures to get rid of them. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.

If her brother had, what was stopping her?

A car drove by, spraying her with muddy water. She never blinked an eye. She stopped though, and dropped her books in the water. Her eyes were fixed on one spot in the road, and with a splash she dropped to her knees.

‘Is that me?’ she thought as she looked in the puddle. ‘Is this what’s happened to me? That…shell…? So hollow, so empty… That can’t be me, can it? Is this what he did to me?’

She was staring at herself, and yet she wouldn’t recognize it in a million years. Her hair, once beautiful and silky, a rich reddish-brown, was now damp, stringy, completely disgusting. Her skin was a bluish cream tint, and stuck to her stick frame in an almost ethereal way. Her bones were practically sticking out of her skin, and yet she was in no way anorexic. Her mouth was drawn in a tight line, and when she tried to smile, it stretched her skin in a way such that she looked like a ghoul from a scary movie. With a horrified flinch she looked away, and that’s when she caught her own eyes. They were naturally grey, but she had never seen them as they were now. Hollow, endless, soulless, scary, deep, and horrifying to the point where the onlooker is filled with depressing thoughts and shivers. Just one glance and she couldn’t believe that those bottomless pits were her once-beautiful eyes.

XxXxX

“Papa!” a little girl cried. But she wasn’t so little, just looked little.

Her father looked up from reading a newspaper. “What is it, darling?”

“What do you think?” His daughter ran up to his lap and jumped up, sitting quite comfortably.

“Oof!” he said with a sharp exhale. “I think that you’re getting heavy after twelve years. Now, what is it?”

The girl fluttered her eyelashes and cast a demure look from under the veil. “Mom put make-up on me. She said that my eyes look gorgeous. Do they?”

He gazed at them, admiring the way that the blue streaks cast a contrast to the white streaks, and the grey seemed to only envelope them in a never-ending circle of hypnotizing darkness. “I think they’re gorgeous, yes.” He couldn’t remove his eyes for several seconds, at which point he said, “Go; play with your friends. I have work to do.”

With a delighted giggle she leaped off his lap, kissed his cheek, and danced out of the room, humming a tune under her breath.

XxXxX

But that was a long time ago. And that girl was no longer alive. She had died…died with him.

With a sniff she brushed the unwanted tears away from her eyes and picked up her books, continuing her trek through the rain, back to her loveless house.

XxXxX

“I don’t care! I never want to see your face again! I never want to hear your voice, or to ever come into contact with you again! I hate you! Do you hear me? I HATE YOU! You’re so lazy! You lazy, god-forsaken, worthless piece of--"

“You stupid, stupid woman! Don’t you realize that YOU’RE the reason that this family is falling apart? Why can’t you work, why can’t you be the one to offer your services for your family? Why are you such a disagreeable bitch all the time?! GOD! Sometimes, I’m this close, THIS CLOSE, to--"

“To what? Are you going to hit me? Go ahead! I dare you! Hit me! I’ll call the cops! You son of a bitch, I hate you! I hope you die the slowest and most painful--"

“SHUT UP! YOU STUPID WHORE, JUST SHUT UP! I can’t stand it! You’re always telling me to do something different, to change my act, to shape up, and you say, ‘Why can’t you be like this person? Why can’t you do this?’ Have you ever thought that maybe I try? You nagging bitch, I hope that YOU die! God! I’m sick of this, I’m leaving!”

A man stomped out of his house, slamming the creaking door shut after him and jumping over the four peeling steps. He didn’t even cast a glance in the direction of the girl standing in front of the house, tears masked by the rain that was falling.

They were fighting again. Always fighting. Every day it was something new. One day she would accuse him of cheating on her, the next day he would yell at her for not getting the house clean, or for forgetting to make dinner. One day, at the start of all this, he came home drunk. He'd come home drunk often since then, but still… That was the night… Her brother had tried to stand up to him for hitting his mom, but…

She shuddered. She wouldn’t think of that now, not when she tried so hard to forget it. Besides, it was in the past. It would do no good for her now.

If anything, it only made things worse.

She shrugged her backpack higher on her shoulder and attempted to walk into the house without her mother noticing. However, she should have known that the door would betray her.

“Is that you? You! Wretched girl, get in this kitchen now!”

She closed her eyes, trying to stop the terror that was beginning to build in the pit of her stomach, but nothing would work. She tensed and walked towards the room.

“Y-yes?” she stuttered.

“Where are my smokes? You know that I can’t live without my smokes!” the older woman screamed. Her eyes had a mad glint in them, and she moved with jerky movements that made it seem like she was a doll, controlled by some unseen force.

“Momma, you know that the doctor said--"

“I don’t care what the fucking doctor said! I want my cigarettes, and I want them NOW! Did your father put you up to this? I bet he did; he’s always trying to take away whatever I want. I just wanted a simple life, a simple life! But could he let me have that? Noooo! He had to take it away!! He had to sleep with that co-slut of his--"

“Momma, you know that Daddy would never cheat on you,” she whispered. But she knew that her mom wouldn’t hear her. She never did. For about a year, she never had. Her family…what family? They weren’t a family. They put up with each other.

SMACK!

“Listen to me when I speak to you, bitch! I said I want you to go find my cigarettes; now why don’t you listen to me?”

She tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall from her dark eyes, but nothing worked. She let out a sniff and gasped, “Yes, ma’am.” She wasn’t intending to go find her cigarettes. She knew that, in a few hours, her mom would calm down. That was when she had to be careful. Best go to her room and wait it out. So she did.

She nodded her head like a good little girl and backed out the door, trying to ignore the stinging pain in her left cheek. “’Everything’s gonna be all right,’” she sang quietly. “’Everything’s gonna be ok. Everything’s gonna be all right. We can take ‘em on every single day and night.’” Her low voice continued to shakily hum it as she made her way up the stairs. Her head was swimming and her throat hurt just from listening to her parents. With a sneeze, she realized that so long in the rain had made her sick.

Wonderful, she thought. Just what I need now. Lord, I hope this goes away soon. Her vision blurred as she tried to reach the last few steps. Her heartbeat was growing louder, thumping in her ears, but she said to herself, over and over, “Just to your room, baby, just to your room. It’s ok, just a little bit farther…” She tried to coax herself on a bit farther, because right there was the last step. “Just one more step,” she whispered. Her backpack seemed so much heavier, and the room seemed to be closing in on her. With a sharp inhale she tripped on the last step, falling straight on her face.

WHAM!

Her nose was bleeding, she could tell, and her vision wasn’t seeing things quite straight. She thought that she saw a person in front of her, but that couldn’t be right. She tried to move, but found that she couldn’t quite feel her muscles. With great strength, she moved her head forward to stop the blood a little bit, and her eyes found a door right next to her. It had inched open a bit, and she saw inside. How she wished she hadn’t…

XxXxX

“No! Please, brother, don’t do this! I beg you, don’t! I need you here, I need you with me…”

There was only silence.

“Please… Why couldn’t you take me with you?” she whispered quietly. The body in her arms was growing heavier and heavier, and she felt the absence of life in it. “I was supposed to go too, brother…” Her voice carried on the wind, and she was glad to know that no one would hear it. No one would ever hear her voice again.

XxXxX

“Why did you leave me?” she whispered now. She could fell a pressure starting to grow on her body, and her eyes were slowly darkening. With a last fleeting glance she saw the figure lean in front of her. Her eyes opened while her vision went black. She knew that face, knew it better than her own. And yet…it was so different. She struggled to see his face, but she knew his voice. And it was the last thing she heard before darkness surrounded her.

“Why didn’t you come with me…sister?”

XxXxX

Lying awake on a rainy evening, she was the only one home. Her dad was out drinking, and her mom…her mom was anywhere but home. This was how she liked it. Quiet, serene, and peaceful. She thrived in silence. But the calming sound of silence was shrewdly interrupted by the shrill cry of technology.

She sighed, clambered out of bed and walked over the phone in the hall.

“Hello?” she said meekly into the receiver; the voice on the other end was a man’s,

“Hi, is Daniel there?”

No…no…please no. Why did he have to ask for him?

“Um, n-no. He’s not here,” she replied, trying to hold it all in, praying that she wouldn't lose it, begging not to break down, pleading for mercy, agonizing for the strength to get through this.

“Oh, when is he getting back? You can tell him Dave called. I’m an old friend of his from school.”

Didn’t he know? Why didn’t he know?

“He’s not coming back.”

He’s not coming back. Never coming back He’s gone forever.

“Oh… why not?” The voice on the other end sounded confused.

No…she couldn’t say it. Not again. She had tried so hard not to admit it to herself.

“He’s…he’s dead.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. She could hear the man breathing harder, heavier. She could almost picture a single tear run down his cheek.

She could feel a single tear run down her cheek.

“Oh…Oh my God. I just…I…I don’t know what to say. How did he die?”

Don't make me say it, please, I don't want to repeat it, it's too painful, why did you have to call, oh please, don't make me say it.

“…Suicide.” Her voice was the smallest of whispers.

The cold body lay limp in her arm; the face more familiar than her own; a flood of cold washed over her, sinking, ever sinking, falling...

A metallic voice interrupted her panicked reverie.

“I-I just wanted to see if he could stop by my apartment to catch up…but…” The man trailed off.

She heard the lock on the door click…the sound echoed harshly through her dead ears.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. I know he was your friend. He would have appreciated your call.”

“T-thank you, Bye--”

She hung up the phone, and stumbled stiffly back into her room.

He was gone, he was really gone.

Gone forever.

XxXxX

April, of course, is always a wonderful month. The dawn of spring, new life, love, and happiness; wonderful, warm days and cool nights, ideal for a walk; and sometimes storms, shaking houses, power outages, and awesome thunder clapping loudly. But today, it was a beautiful sunny day: the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, squirrels were chasing each other up and down trees, and kids were laughing, chasing each other through sprinklers or trying to roller skate. Parents sat on their front porches in the shade, smiling indulgently and drinking cool lemonade. It was the perfect day.

And she wanted nothing to do with it. She hated being outside in the sun, with everything laid out so clearly before her. Life just wasn't like that, and she didn't want to be sucked into the delusion that it was, like the rest of the world had been. Life was full of trickery and false pretenses, and in order to get by, you either had to join them or be smart enough to figure out what was what, and whom you could trust.

But in most cases, even those that you trust unconditionally could betray you.

Just like he betrayed her.

Her parents were out, one at work and the other just…somewhere. She didn't notice anymore, and didn't care if she did. They weren't her parents, they were just beings who lived in the same house as she did. Other than provide food, shelter and education for her, what did they do? They didn't love her. They gave her life, yes, but…even that she wished she didn't have.

She was in her room, window blinds drawn tightly shut and classical music playing. It was one of her favorite pieces, Moonlight Sonata, by Beethoven. In her opinion, Beethoven was one of the few geniuses of the world. And when listening to the slow, precise notes of the piano in this song, she couldn't help but let herself become overwhelmed with the music.

Finding herself with nothing to do, she had decided to check out what was in her closet. It was one of the few dark places that she rarely ventured lately, and she didn't know what was in there. And now, she had her hair tied with a scrunchie, a smudge of dust on her nose and small particles in her hair, and her sleeves rolled up. She hadn't been this involved in something in a long time, and it felt good to not be depressed so much. She liked this feeling, of having something to do. And that's when she saw it, sitting in a box under an old costume that she recognized from Halloween several years ago.

It was a photo album, the cover worn and tattered, and the fading drawings of her earlier years: hearts with initials in them, bubble letter drawings of her name, statements such as "Best friends forever," and "Future fashion designer." She laughed quietly at her old thoughts and wondered what she would have done at that age had she known what she would become. She smiled a humorless smile as she leaned over and picked up the dust-covered album and sat down. With a quick glance over the cover once again, she took in the faded burgundy with gold lining, and opened the first page.

A picture of a baby wrapped tightly in a white blanket was the first one. Underneath the picture were tight, yet smooth letters saying, "One day old." The next picture showed her again, lying in her mother's arms with her older brother peering over with a curious look on his face. One hand was reached out, trying to touch his baby sister. His brown eyes were wide with interest, and a small smile teased his lips.

She flipped a few pages, and came to her fifth birthday party. She laughed at the picture of her in a Cinderella costume, hair wound up as the princess would have had, but instead of the pearly smile of the beauty, she had a scowl on her face, and her eyes were dark with anger. She was sitting in their old green recliner, her dress poofing around her. Her brother was on his knee in front of her, a teasing smile as he held up her plastic glass slipper. He was dressed up as a cowboy, and she remembered as she looked still that his was the costume that she had wanted to wear.

She crossed a few more pages, and came to the day that they had moved three years ago. She had been 11 then, and her brother was 13. They were standing in front of their old house, holding each other's hand, as they smiled sad smiles for the camera. She remembered bitterly that that had been the day when they had lost their old lives and grown up, and realized that the only people they could trust were each other.

"Brother!" she exclaimed, still using her old nickname for him. He appeared out of his bedroom, holding a box.

"Yeah?"

"Come on, Mom says that it's time to go."

He nodded and walked back into his room. She followed, closing the door behind them.

"It's sad, isn't it? That we should have to move," he said quietly. He put the box back on the floor, still emptying out the drawer in his desk, the hidden one that their parents didn't know about. She stepped beside him and helped him remove the items.

"I know it is… Why do we have to? Mom and Dad's reason doesn't make any sense." She fingered a Spiderman figurine; it was the one that she had given to him for his eighth birthday. "You still have this?"

He looked over briefly before going back to his work. "Of course. It was the first real birthday present you gave to me. Even after five years I've kept it… It means a lot to me, you know."

She didn't know, but didn't say that. She only nodded and put it in the box with the rest of the items. She watched him take out each thing and find a place for it carefully in the box. She knew that these were his most previous possessions, and in the course of his life, he'd never once considered taking out any of the things that found their way into the drawer.

"You want to know why we're moving?" His voice broke the silence. She nodded. "They're fighting."

She stared. What was he talking about?

"Mom is drinking more lately, getting back into her old habits, and it's infuriating Dad. They had a fight yesterday while you were at Casey's, and Mom was completely drunk and accused Dad of cheating on her with a coworker. They've had fights like this for a while now, and Dad's having trouble at the company. We don't have the money that we used to, sister. Our family is falling apart, right around our shoulders."

She looked away from his gaze. "I know," she whispered. "I've heard them screaming sometimes when they think I'm asleep. And when I go to get Mom's laundry every week I run into her stash of cigarettes and booze. I hate it; her laundry always smells like smoke. When she kissed me goodbye at school yesterday she smelled like alcohol. And Dad's not doing much to help. He's always gone."

They were both quiet for several moments; her brother continued packing his treasures in the box.

"It's only us now, isn't it, brother?"

He looked at her questioningly.

"It's just us now. Mom and Dad have left us, Grandma and Grandpa died, and Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jace are in California. We're moving to a new state completely, with no friends or relatives there. All we got left is each other."

He put the last of his memoirs in the box. "I think you're right, sis. That's it then, isn't it? It's just us against the world."

Their mom's voice floated up the stairs, summoning them down to the car. It was time to go.

He looked at her and extended his arm. "Shall we face it together then?"

Just as they heard the car start outside, she smiled and took his arm. Together, brother and sister walked down to face whatever the world would throw at them.

That had been when her brother and she had first realized that they needed each other. From that point on, they did everything together. Where he went, she went, and vice versa. Of course, they made new friends in the town, but she wasn't one to hold onto friends; her brother was. He had made many friends, quickly, and stayed friends with them for years. She developed a reputation of being cold, distant, and strange. Those who dared to approach her were turned away with a snarl and a threat.

But throughout it all, her brother had never forgotten her. It was why they had stayed strong… Why she was so devastated when he left…

She decided to look at one last picture, and found something that she had completely forgotten about. It was a drawing, done when she was 13. She remembered it all too well now, and wished that she hadn't come upon it.

"No, brother, please, don't do this to me," she sobbed. They were in the park again, where they'd spent most of their time since moving to this new state. It was their bench, and the same seats they'd sat in since the beginning. But right now, everything seemed so unfamiliar. She craved the one thing that she depended on--the only person she lived for now.

"It's ok. I promise, I'll never leave you, sister. Wherever I go, you go." He wrapped her in his arms as she sobbed into his shoulder. "It's not real, baby, it's not real; you don't have to worry about it."

She only held onto him tighter. Instead of rolling his eyes and shrugging her off, he stroked her hair and rocked back and forth, trying to comfort her in ways that words could not.

"I'm here, girl, I'm here."

It was in black and white, with hues of gray in between. She had drawn it absent-mindedly while listening to music. At the time she had been into drawing, and her parents had obliged her passion by buying her pencils and a sketch pad. The drawing, because of such, was completely realistic, and still struck deep. Somewhere that she had buried long ago…

It was a long hallway, molded and overgrown with dirt, dust, and vines. Spiders, bugs, and rats scuttled across the floor. The air itself seemed to have a dusty property, even in the drawing. But at the end of the hallway was a slightly cracked door, with just enough light to reveal a chillingly familiar sight: her brother's bedroom. On the floor was a hand, and trickling out of the room was a stream of something red, and something dark, dripping down into endless black.

She shivered looking at the drawing. She didn't know how she had drawn that, her skills weren't anywhere near that good; but it was there, and so were the memories.

She ran into her brother's room with the paper, waving it wildly in his face as she cried.

"Promise me you'll stay alive!" she screamed. "Promise me that this won't come true!"

He took a good look at the drawing and understood it and its meaning to his sister. He looked at his best friend and took her in his arms, holding her tightly. "I promise that I'll always be here for you," he whispered fiercely. "I'll be right here, never far behind or in front of you. Always. I'm here, girl, I'm here." He sank to the floor and held her, rocking and whispering words of comfort.

She was supposed to have forgotten that. She tried to fight back the tears that came with the memory. He lied to her. He had betrayed her, and left her here. It was no use, though, and she screamed, digging her hands into her hair as she stared at the drawing. The album lay forgotten on the floor now, but she couldn't find the strength to put it away. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the surfacing images, or the tears from falling, or the screams from sounding… the blood was dripping, falling into black nothing, never sounding the landing PLOP!

"My son! Give me back my son!"

"Ella, please!" It was a man's voice. A woman's racking sobs reverberated through the church, and the man's voice was thick and barely controlled.

"Why? What caused this? Is it my fault? Please! Tell me what I did wrong! Give me back my son!"

No one heard a girl's screams or her sobs. No one saw her approach a coffin and lay her hands on an older boy's frozen hands. No one saw her lean down and kiss his forehead, or heard her whisper, "You betrayed me, brother." No one saw her leave the church, and no one heard her screams of anguish.

Just like no one heard her now. Her hands shook as she grabbed her hair, and her mouth opened to breathe a scream, but nothing sounded. Her vision was blurred beyond seeing anything, but the trickle of blood never disappeared. The drip-drip-drip of falling drops screamed in her mind, but they never landed; the racking sobs of the woman never sounded more alive, and her own heartbeat pulsed quickly, speeding to unnatural speeds. Her father's raised voice at his mother, and her shouts in return. The breaking of a beer bottle, the smell of cigarettes, the familiar and yet comforting feeling of the blood falling down her arm from the cuts in her wrist, the creak of a rope, the feel of a body in her arms, the vision of the hand, lying on the floor…

And in the back of her mind, the whisper of her brother's voice sounded louder than anything else. As she screamed a shriek of despair, still no one heard her. The last thing she heard before she blacked out was her brother's whisper of "I'll never leave you," and then a shriek from the woman, with her own blood rushing through her head and her breath sounding loudly. Her last thought was that the shriek sounded oddly like her own voice…

XxXxX

It was raining again.

It was always raining. It didn't matter if it was 90 degrees outside with a major draught--to her, it was always raining. She could feel the rhythmic beatings of the drops pattering softly against her window, and the thunderous applause of the furious oceans-in-air as they threatened to even sweep her away.

How she wished they would sweep her away.

"Where is that girl?" Her mother's footsteps clunked up the stairs.

Not right now, she prayed. Please, just send her away. Everything seemed to be magnified. Her own heartbeat sounded like thunder in her head. She closed her eyes, willing it to all go away.

Silence. Beloved, cherished silence.

Her mother's voice sirened through the door, calling her name, while the pounding on the door was an explosion to her body, every hit a new bomb. She felt the room start to spin mightily against her will.

In an instant, silence replaced the hurricane and she lay down t sleep.

XxXxX

When she awoke, it felt as if no time had passed. She looked at the clock and found that no time had passed. The storm outside her house and in had not calmed, and she sat up wearily, clutching her head.

Her mom still stood outside, demanding her open the door and come out. With a sigh she sat up and did just that.

SMACK!

"Girl, how dare you lock the door on your own mother! Do it again and I'll take your whole door off! Now." Her voice softened, but her eyes held the same frenzied flare. "I just permed my hair and it'll be ruined if I get it wet anymore than I have to. Go to my room and get the keys from my nightstand. Start the car and then get me my umbrella. Now!"

When she didn't move, her mom raised a hand as if to strike her, but she ducked under her arm and scampered down the hallway.

"What happened to us?" she whispered. She stopped when she saw the portrait on the side of her mom's bed. It was the only family portrait left in the house. Her dad had demanded that they take down anything that would remind them of her brother.

But for some reason, he let his wife keep this picture here. With a shaky hand, she reached out and touched the smiling faces she saw. Her mom used to be so lovely and warm, always took care of herself. Her smile held a compassion that many tried to mirror, but failed when compare to its creator. And her dad always laughed. Always.

And her…

She used to dance. It was her passion. She loved the way the music took control of her, and the art she found she could create by throwing her head back, or flicking her wrist, or twisting her body. She used to get lost in the pleasure of it for hours on end, letting the throbbing beats flood her body and conforming her moves to each song. In her head she would choreograph dances before she even heard the first words. It was such a fantastic experience…she couldn't believe how much she missed it.

She stroked her hair in the picture and reached up to touch her own, then almost sobbed. Her hair used to be so fine, so full and healthy, almost down to her waist. She couldn't believe she cut it.

"I don't know why you cut it." Her mother's voice broke the silence from the doorway.

Startled, she dropped her hands and reached for the drawer, but her mom stopped her.

"Come here," she said. Dutifully, her daughter walked over.

"You got it from me, you know. When I was your age, my hair was my pride and joy, and I was so happy that you'd gotten a piece of that." Her fingers ran through the now lank and dead locks. "We'll have to fix it soon. It's a pity to waste such beauty," she whispered. Abruptly she turned to leave. Her daughter could only stare, mimicking the finger movements of her mother to her hair.

Still, she knew why she was here and turned around to get the keys again. When she opened the drawer, she reached in, but stopped. Lying peacefully was a hand-held, a beautiful, lethal, tiny gun. Without a second thought she tucked it in her hoodie pocket and grabbed the keys, hurrying out of the room.

Yet as she jumped down the stairs, keys in hand, and headed toward the door, she couldn't help but swear she heard an eerily familiar voice call her sister, and suppress a shudder.

XxXxX

The rain had stopped. Momentarily, she was sure, but it was a nice change. She loved waking outside after a rain, watching herself in the puddles and seeing the so-dirty world clean--just for a moment. She loved the squeaky-clean feeling she felt the streets, cars, houses, and grass emitted, covered in the peaceful, still crystalline orbs. Her favourite was walking under a canopy of tree leaves and getting hit with a shower of lingering droplets. For as long as she could remember, that feeling erased any other feelings she'd felt and just made her happy.

For this reason, it felt like it never stopped raining to her. Always raining, never slowing for a moment of that after-rain bliss. Not a one.

However, today she had the opportunity and she wasn't going to waste it. A walk would do her some good, she thought.

She closed her eyes in pleasure, feeling the warm caress of the wind push her along the accompanying whispers of the leaves. She couldn't help but wonder what secrets they were telling. Despite herself, she jumped in the next puddle she saw and let a giggle escape her smiling lips. Her mind was captured by the memories of many such afternoons spent with her brother. But instead of wallowing, she let the memories of joy place some of their happiness on her now.

Her eyes caught sight of a park ahead, and she picked her heels up and skipped down the road, feeling young and careless again.

"Here," she said when she reached the park. She walked over and sat languidly on the closest bench. "Wasn't it here that we promised each other, brother?" She looked to her right and spoke again. "These exact seats, weren't they? Do you remember what you said?"

A peel of thunder roiled above her as the winds changed pace, but she paid them no heed. She had only eyes for the boy sitting next to her.

There he was, sitting just as he had the day everything changed.

"I promise I'll never leave you, sister."

Weren't those his words?

"Weren't those the very words you told me? Didn't you promise? Didn't you lie?"

She hadn't noticed the rain had started again, although at that point, she could tell no different between rain and tears. She watched through blurry vision as her brother leaned closer and reached with his right hand to wipe away the tears streaming down her face.

"It's not raining yet," he whispered.

"It hasn't stopped raining since you left," she murmured back. "It started one day and never stopped."

"It's not raining here." His eyes were just as compassionate as she remembered.

"I know."

And so they sat, his thumb on her cheek, his hand cupping her face, his eyes speaking the message he had never told her.

"I'm sorry I left you, sister."

So they sat, a mirror image of the exact same day 3 years before, her eyes swimming in tears, her heart in the palm of his hand. They never knew how much time had passed.

"I have to go," he whispered, sliding his hand away.

Frantically, she grabbed for it again.

Not yet.

She didn't say it, but as her eyes met his, there was no need for words.

Before, she had let him go and she never saw him alive again. This time she wasn't going to let that happen. "No. I'll never see you again. I'll never hear your voice, or feel your hug, or… You'll just leave again! I won't let you!" She swore softly and continued, whispering, desperate. "Can't you see that I need you here?"

His eyes never left hers; he cupped her face with both hands and leaned his forehead to hers. "Didn't you see me? I never left." His voice was so soft and gentle, steady and caring, while her own was desperate, shaky, and tinted with anger. She searched those so similar eyes, but they just weren't the same anymore.

"No." She said it quietly, almost inaudibly, and then again louder. "No! You lied to me!" With a sob she tore away and stood up, staring at the shape that so resembled her brother but suddenly couldn't have been more alien.

"Why did you lie?" came her sob.

He stood up and moved towards her, but she shook her head, stifling a sob, and retreated. "I don't know you anymore. You left me."

"I'm right here, I've always--"

"No! Stop lying to me! I don't know you! My brother never would have left. He loved me, and I loved him." Her voice racked as she succumbed to another sob.

"I still love you. I always have and always will, sister."

"Don't say that! Don't call me 'sister’! Only my brother can call me that and he's dead! You're DEAD!" Her voice had risen to a scream. She raked her hands through her hair violently, pulling at the dead locks as she removed them.

"Don't you get it? You're dead! Gone! I hate you!" Abruptly her voice faded to a whisper. "You left me once, why can't you do it again…" She sank to her knees, mud spattering her rain-soaked clothes. She didn't resist when he wrapped his arms around her, her body shaking in silent tears.

"Because I love you," he said in her ear.

Silently she shook her head. "No you don't. If you loved me, you never would have left." Her hand was slipped inside her hoodie pocket. "Why don't you love me?" she whispered to the ground.

His only answer was his warms tight around her and his face buried on her shoulder.

"I hate you…" her words came floating back to her. She said them again, louder.

"I don't understand," he answered.

"You ruined my life! You're dead, don't you see? You killed me too, but you left me alive to endure this hell without you. How could you?" She stood up again. The wind swept her hair violently, snatching the words out of her mouth. The rain fell in terrible sheets now, slapping loudly against the close-by concrete sidewalk and painfully against human flesh. Her brother hardly noticed the pelting ocean.

"Why can't you just leave?" she mouthed, pleading, backing away. Somehow, he heard her.

"Because I love you," he repeated.

"No!" She screamed. "You don't love me! You wouldn't have left if you did! You promised. You lied. You LIED! Why did you lie, damn it, why! Don't you know I can't live without you…"

The gun appeared in her outstretched hand, a cold body of glistening silver.

"Why didn't you take me with you?" She never said them, but the words left her mouth. "Why did you leave me, brother? Tell me!" she demanded. "Why did you lie!" She cocked the gun.

Calmly he said again, "Because I love you, sister. Always."

With one hand she wiped away the tears, no longer distinguishable from the torrent of rain. "I should have come with you," she said as she rested her finger on the trigger. "Don't you know I can't live without you? Didn't you know I loved you more than life!"

"Sister," he called again.

“DON’T CALL ME THAT! Don’t! You’re not my brother!” she shouted, lifting the gun closer to her. "Why did you lie? TELL ME!" She readied her shot. "Why?" she whispered. With a whimper she turned the gun around, staring the barrel in the eye.

" I should have come with you…"

End