REVISED VERSION

She came home late that night, wondering when it would all be over. She stepped lightly up the stairs, as not to wake her mother, but as she opened the bathroom door she found that her mother was wide awake.

"Pain medicine..." her mother said holding up the bottle. "I could drown in it..." She have her daughter a quick smile, then proceeded with her nightly routine. First the pain medication, then she goes downstairs to the television and falls asleep. She's such a wreck. Mary looked at herself in the mirror, but yet, instead of her reflection, she was greeted with the reflection of her mother. Eyes sunken into her sockets with large bruises of many colors cluttering her face and blooding trickling down her lip. And Mary left, how could she have left? How could she have left when her mother needed her most?

After her mother and father had divorced, he'd come over and beaten her up. He found her mother first and kicked her around a bit, softening her up, then brought out his knife. Mary remembers it like it was yesterday, the scene runs through her mind constantly. The knife with a needle tip, light gleaming of the side and bouncing across the room forming rainbows on the walls, as she watched as it was raised high. As if it would cut through the ceiling, then brought down in a flash. A scream echoed through the halls of the house, as Mary began running, selfishly running. Running from what was behind her, leaving it in the last. She ran to the tree house in the backyard in the big oak tree. Surely he wouldn't think to look there.

Mary had spent so many wonderful years there when she was little, and she thought if she'd go up there, the good times would overrun the bad and she would be serenaded with beautiful thoughts and feelings, but she didn't know how wrong she was. The tree house looked down upon the tiny corner bedroom which belonged to her mother, blood was spattered on the bed and the walls, it dripped down the glass of the window as if it were rain, and the screams were horrifying. Mary covered her ears, but the screams found their way into her head and danced around, playing over and over again, she knelt down and cried, but the tears drained her of her energy. She laid down on the wooden floor and looked across the tiny one-roomed tree house that her dad had built for her just so many years ago. As she gazed across the room, her eyes caught a pair of scissors. The light gleamed on them as it did on the knife, she grabbed them and began to slash her wrists, it took a while for them to break the skin, but she was determined to feel the same pain that her mother was feeling. When she finally broke skin, she found it was almost painless. Kind of soothing, as if someone was singing lullabies to her and with only a few more cuts, she'd lost enough blood to be knocked out cold.

The next day when she awoke, she was in the hospital. Needles coming out of her arms everywhere, she looked around, seeing all white. The room wasn't soothing, it was cold and uninviting. She saw her mother nowhere and assumed the worst. She wanted the lullabies back. The peace with herself back, the peace with her body back, the peace with her mind back, her mother back, she wanted it all back.

Mary opened her mouth to scream, but then again saw the images that were burning in her head like a flame. She could smell her mothers fear and she could see herself running. She stroked her arm where the cuts had been, it seemed so unreal. Did it really happen? She had forgotten she was in the hospital and saw only her bedroom before any of this had happened. She saw herself laying on her bed sleeping, and her mother bopping around the house cleaning. A knock on her door

"Come in..." she answered. It was her mother...

"C'mon honey, we're going shopping while Daddy's out!" she smiled and laughed, Mary also laughed and hurried to get dressed. That was the last night they had had peace in their family. So many images engraved into her head.

"It was me..." She grasped her arm harder leaving nail marks, "Me..." It echoed in her head that SHE was the reason for all the pain. Why hadn't she pieced it together before? Just then, a doctor knocked and came into the room and stood by Mary's side. "Hi there Mary..." she said happily. Mary turned and looked at her. She had a dark complexion, but was a very pretty women with dark hair and dark eyes. Her hair shined and her eyes sparkled. Mary smiled at the pretty woman, her voice still not responding.

"How are you doing honey?" Her voice reminded her of her mother's. Her mother, that reminded her, Where was her mother? Alive, or-?

"My mom...?" she asked, almost scared to hear the answer. That her mother had bled to death in the house while she ran.

"Your mother's in another room, she's doing good though, we've got her all cleaned up and stitched up," She smiled again, her teeth bright white, as if the sun was shining on her.

The doctor continued talking, but Mary paid to attention. She just concentrated on her smile, reminded her of the tree house with the one, single window. Mary would always sit by the window and the sun would shine down on her, bright as ever and she'd watch for her dad to come home. When he was home, he'd always knock on the tree house trap door then run to the other side, and Mary would open the door to look out her dad would jump out and scare her. Mary loved her dad, she loved her mom too and they had had money before the divorce until her mom decided they had too much and wanted to spend some on Mary. She bought her all new clothes and many useless things and soon, the money was gone. That was what caused the problems, Janet spending the money on Mary. Jessie didn't enjoy being poor, or working hard jobs for money to be spend without his consultation. He wanted money for a new house, new cars, and to put in the bank for Mary's college education. Something that might actually do them some good, but her mother didn't care whether they were rich or poor, black or white, dead or alive. As long as they were together, they could get by, unfortunately, their different opinions caused problems and they fought constantly about Mary. About what she did, where she went, what she didn't do, who she was friends with. Mary paid no attention though, figuring they'd get over the fighting, get the money back, and be like they were before. As she grew older, things grew worse. They lost more money, and the fighting persisted. Janet couldn't take Jessie's verbal OR physical abuse anymore, and decided it was time for a divorce. Well, Jessie agreed and was calm about it, but that night, he got a little drunk and wasn't so easy-going then. He brought over a knife and attempted to "shake up" Janet. He didn't actually want to kill her, just teach her a lesson, because HE wanted to be the one to file for divorce, he wanted to be the one not being able to take his wife, he wanted to be on the other side and it angered him that his wife filed against him. Janet just wanted it over as soon as possible. Last night kept playing over and over in her mind. The knife, the screams, the blood, the tree house, the scissors, and the lullabies.

When Mary and her mother were released from the hospital, the found their lives were changed drastically. Mary lost interest in things that had once been her life, many sports she had played before were pushed far out of her mind, she had too many other things to think of, especially the guilt of running, it took over her heart and soul. Never once did she mention any of it, or let a word out, but they all knew something had taken Mary far away, something far too complicated to get past. Mary had been devoured by guilt. Her life had become a black hole that she feel deeper and deeper into each day. The tree house became a sanctuary for her, the scissors became her existence, and as long as she continued to exist in her sanctuary, she continued to fall deeper and deeper into the black hole she was creating for herself. Until one day, when she fell far too deep to revive herself, or for anyone else to revive her.

It was yet again a late night, when Mary had been out walking. The blank look on her face she so often had now, walking straight ahead, but once in a while she'd turn to glance to the moon and just stop to wonder why she had been plagued with the guilt of

running. The photographic memory that had once served for good, straight A's and such, now served as a tool of torture. Mary made her way home, and as she walked into the house, she saw her mother passed out, probably from drugs, on the couch with the television on, reflecting light through the empty hallways of the house. Mary looked down on her mother over the back of the sofa and tears began to stroll down her face and she saw herself on the couch. Growing to be a useless person, the world doesn't need anymore useless people. So as she covered her mother up with the torn blanket laying on the floor, a voice spoke to her, clear and loud this time, making sure that every word was heard perfectly.

"Cut Mary, deeper, I need Blood Mary, I feed on the blood, we both do, feed on the death now..." and as she heard those words, death echoed in her head. She ran into the kitchen, tears rapidly dropping from her red swollen eyes she repeated to herself, "No, No I will NOT end up like that. I WON'T! I won't let myself. No, I can't, because I'm going to end it tonight," she said as she grasped a large knife. Holding it as if it's purpose was to save the world, but in reality, it was going to not destroy the WORLD, but the family she had once loved. She stepped quickly up the staris and into her room, locked the door, and sat down on the carpet. She held the knife to her wrist and began the slow process of suicide HER way. As she cut herself once, twice, three time, the cuts got larger and deeper, for Mary needed the blood.

"Blood will explain everything..." she whispered as she pulled the knife over her flesh slitting the skin and wiping the blood over the wall...

After a while, Mary became weak from the loss of blood. She had cut her arms and wrists, thighs and ankles and then to her stomach. She needed all the blood she could get, and once she got enough, she felt relaxed, and knew she could let go of her life and all the baggage that came with it, because her message was complete. She laid down on the soft carpet, and tears yet again came, but they were happy tears this time. For the first time in years, she was actually happy because death was so close. Happy because life was so far away, but especially happy because the lullabies were back to take her away, to guide her from this hate filled world into a world filled with love and rejoicing. She closed her eyes and laid her almost lifeless body on the carpet for what seemed like hours without pain. She couldn't remember the last time she was this happy, until a loud pounding on the door awoke her from the lullabies. It was her mother, she had come for her good-night before she loaded herself up on pills yet again, and what she found was devastating. It was Mary, her one and only daughter lying half dead and motionless on her bedroom carpet, bleeding to knife with a knife in her hand. Her mother fell to her knees in disbelief and began to cry, she knelt down on the floor and grabbed her daughters hand shaking her quickly as an attempt to revive her. Mary's eyes opened and for once in a long while focused on something. Her mother, and her mother's loving eyes glued on Mary's numb body. With her weak voice Mary asked, "Mommy, would you sing me a lullaby?" Mary's mother looked down at her daughter and nodded. She picked up her Mary's head gently and laid it on her lap and began to sing, "Hush little darling, Wait and see, Angels will take you to thy destiny," Mary was soothed by her mother's soft voice and finally felt that it was time to let go, to let go of everything that had haunting her for years. She died that night in her mothers arms, and after Mary had passed, her mother stood to call the police and noticed blood covering a wall in Mary's room. She studied it for a while and noticed it was a message. She read it aloud, "I love you, Mom." She fell to her knees and tears yet again strolled down her cheeks.

She awoke in the early morning, hoping to realize that it was all a horrible nightmare, but found that it was all real. She stood from the carpet and walked through the house in her bloodstained clothes and called the police. The Marshall family hasn't been the same since Mary's suicide, but Janet has convinced herself that Mary would have wanted her to go on with life and that her daughter's watching her from up above. Janet has filled the house with pictures of her beloved daughter to remind her of what love really is.

- The end -