Whilst You Slept

Chapter Two: Not Without My Blindfold

By: Jen

Depression is paralyzing. Anything you loved to do before just doesn’t seem adequate anymore. You can sit and stare for hours and nothing will come to you, you’ll just sink farther and farther into your deep rut.

You mind slowly numbs, and you find yourself being drawn from everyone, everything you ever loved. You become unsociable and reclusive.

Depression is a disease with no true cure.

Depression can came for no apparent reason or because of something as simple as a laugh.

Confusion clouds your mind when you try to think of anything else, because you can’t. It’s unnatural. It controls your mind, breaking down your logic into illogical notions. Breaking down your emotions that make you human into two categories. Hate and fear. Two very alike, very real emotions that control everything.

Your eyes become unfocused and your ears stop hearing.

Deaf and blind, your thoughts, your life, memories, dreams all play over and over breaking your concentration on anything.

Life is pathetic and friends don’t matter. They worry, but eventually fade away into the darkness with everything else.

There’s no hope. There’s just the thought of living with yourself.

It’s devastating.

Suicide seduces. You feel guilty for ever being happy. Feel guilty for ever being alive. You cannot go a minute without feeling the guilt. Your heart is heavy and you feel your battered soul plunging deeper and deeper into oblivion.

Need to tear at your flesh drives your mind. You hope someone will save you from yourself, but impossible. The only one who can save you IS your self; therefore, it’s hopeless.

Your body aches for death. Your mind crumbles.

The only think worst then being depressed is watching someone with depression.

It makes your heart ache and you cry. For depression is a catch-able disease.

I’ve cried so hard for the last month. I’ve cried for everything, and anything I could.

 I’ve been watching my brother closely of late. I know he’s up to something and that makes me cry harder. It has something to do with father.

Control over him is something I do not have, though it would seem so. He does everything for me. Everything but I can’t control his actions. I wish I could.

He sometimes talks about vengeance on father. For not taking care of me, I suppose. Father’s always been a quiet, withdrawn person. He never meant to hurt us. I’m just worried that Azdra could think differently. I’m worried about what he could do. He’s not sane, though he’s not insane. I’m not quite sure what he is anymore, nor how to describe it.

Depression and self-loathing have clouded his brain. You can’t think straight, I know, I’ve done quite a few things I regret also. I’ve done things most people would consider as sins. It’s not my fault. I’m driven by this burning need… pulled by this dark desire. I’m compelled by the demon of depression.

                I suppose it has been my blindfold to whatever Azdra is doing, though I’m sure it has been own to his action, to his morals.

            It seems we can go nowhere without these blindfolds over our eyes… They are damn near impossible to rid ourselves of.

            Azdra slips in around noon, looking more satisfied, yet torn then ever. He’s done something really bad… It’s written in his eyes and on his expression.

            “Azdra?” He slides into the seat next to me at the kitchen table, resting his elbows against the hard wood table. He face is nestled in his bare hands. He stays that way for a few minutes, like he was trying to grasp something, before he looked back at me, fear in his deep blue eyes.

            “Trib.” He nods vaguely in my general direction, as if to acknowledge my presence.

            “What’s wrong?” I hear myself ask impatiently, my blindfold still shielding my eyes, completely oblivious to the bloodstains on his coat, the mark of yet another day on the job.

            I don’t understand why he likes it, being around dead bodies, sniffing around crime scenes everyday. I honestly don’t get it. He says he’s just trying to bring justice into the cold, harsh world, but I think part of him likes the gruesome scenes of brutality at it worst. That makes me scared for him.

“I think I did something horrible…” I swallow, nodding in confirmation as I wait for him to continue, reluctantly.

“I….” He starts again, but buries his face deep in his hands, to catch the salty drops. I hear him give a silent sob after a moment.

“It’s alright,” I say, standing to rub his back soothingly.

‘NO! IT’S NOT!” He yells, standing, and knocking my hand away with a slap. “I kill my own fucking father!”  He sank back into his chair as I felt my face drain of its color and tear well up in my eyes. He’s face fell back into his hands. I’m not sure I heard the words right…. Father’s… dead? Murdered by his own son’s hands…

“I’m sorry….” Azdra whispers quietly. “I don’t know what happened… I…” He lifts his head, falling quiet, his blue eyes filled with tears of regret. His dirty face was streaked with little salty trails. “I’m s-- sorry, Trib….” His eyes pled sincerity as he rises from his seat to embrace me. “I never meant it…” Father and Azdra were always a lot alike….

My mouth works, but no sound escapes… Father’s dead, but I was expecting this… but still… he’s dead, and I’m honestly surprised that he had the guts to go through with it…. 

I sigh quietly, trying my best to detatch my older brother’s arms from around my neck… he finally let go, falling back into his own chair.

“I know you didn’t mean it…. You just can’t think straight sometimes,” I told Azdra, making excuses for him, not willing to hear his.

To be continued

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but I got really lazy working on it, and I just want to get to the next chapter… Later on in the storie all tell about the bad things Trib did… Thanks for reading!