Organized Suicide

"Avellana." I heard him calling my name. Whispering in my ear, he was trying to scare me. It was working. His fingers brushed down my back. I let out a small yelp, and he laughed. "Avellana, come baby, come with me. Be my angel, my dark angel." He incircled me in his grasp and I screamed as he brought me down. Looking around in desperation, I saw where he was leading me. His own personal hell. "NO!" I would scream. Screaming and thrashing wasn't getting me anywhere. It just left bruises on my pale arms. I would wake up, expecting to be laying in a death bed in hell. But never did that happen. I would just wake up, drenched in sweat. Sometimes my dad would come wake me up. But he rarely heard my screams and calling. Or atleast it felt that way. I like to think of it as that. Him not hearing me, I mean. But no. I knew he was ignoring me. He didn't care. Still doesn't.

 

"What are you thinking so hard about, Avellana?" My counselor asked. His name was Jeff. Such a simple name. Who would have known? Of course, I didn't answer. I stared at him, studying his blue eyes. They had a small line of silver in them. Maybe a tint of orange.

 

"Avellana, you know I can't help you if you don't talk to me." I nodded. He sighed and looked at the clock. "Okay, go to bed. Get some rest." He closed his empty notebook and I stood and went to the TV room.

 

"Hey! Velly!" I looked up at the sound of the nickname the girls gave me. They smiled as I approached the table where they were playing cards. "Want to play with us? We're playing bull s**t. It's fun." Vassie smiled at me. She was one of the sweet ones. She called me Velly. Even though it sounds wierd, I liked it. It's unique. I shook my head, and frowned when they did.

 

"Avellana?" My dad? What is he doing here? I spun around and threw my arms around him. He just stood there and I let my arms slowly fall back to my sides. "I've heard you won't cooperate with them. You won't talk to the counselors. Skipped classes. Skipped social. You know you're supposed to talk. Well, too late now. We're going home." He walked to my room and threw all my stuff, not so gently, into my bag and zipped it up. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the car. I got in and buckled up.

 

* * *

 

Once home, I ran straight to my room. I plopped on my bed and smiled. It felt wierd. I wasn't used to smiling. At home, I felt close to my mom. Like she was watching over me, like she loved me, is what is always felt like.

 

I closed my eyes, then reopened them. Staring at my black cieling reminded me of my sister. I was the only female left in my house. I remember the day of my mother and sisters death as if it happened yesterday.

 

It was about six months ago. My mother, sister, and I all went out on a shopping spree for my birthday. It was two days after the celebration of my 17th birthday. I was driving, on our way back from the mall. We stopped at and intersection and when I pulled out--making sure the light was green--a diesel truck ran a stop light, slammed right into the passanger side of the car. My mother and sister were dead before the ambulance got there, and I was lucky, so they say.

 

I wiped my eyes as a tear fell down my cheek. Thinking about that day always upsets me. How am I supposed to live with that? That's what I would always think about. That's when my dad sent me to the loony house. I started slitting my wrists. I found joy in that. Though, it never helped, never gave me release. I just found joy in watching the blood trickle down my arm. My dad called me psycho.

 

I eyed the blade on my nightstand. I reached for it. It fell gently into my hand. I pressed the point of the blade to my wrist, just under my last scar. Looking at that made me think of the first time I ever cut, and the reason why. A boy made me. His name was Nixon. He was a popular guy. I liked him, up until that day.

 

He laughed at me. His friends all laughed with him. When he saw me, I approached him. "Hey, Nixon..." They laughed at me, and I cocked my head to one side. "Ahh!!" They mock yelled. "So, Avellana, how bad do you feel about it?" I knew what they were talking about. But I acted clueless. "About what?" I braced myself for what they were about to say. But I must not have braced myself well enough. "Killing your family. How are you taking it that it was all your fault?" I didn't answer, just went to the bathroom. I noticed the paper towel dispenser had a sharp edge. I had heard before that cutting helped. I pressed my wrist gently to the dispenser and dug it into the skin. I giggled at first, when the blood gushed down my arm, but then I started to feel it. The sharp pain that tingled it's way up my arm. Then I screamed, the pain was undearable. I caught my reflection in the mirror, my skin was too white. Ashy. That's what it was. Then I don't remember anything.

 

I remember a while later, I woke up in a hospital room--I had hit the artery in my arm-- and I choose not to think about the rest. I just, got adicted. Addicted to the rush. The blood, the pain, all of it. The knife slipped from my hand, and a sob raised in my chest. I let it out loudly, and my brother heard it. He was the same age as me. He cared. He came and held me. He held me while I cried.

 

"Honey, what's wrong? Sis, tell me what's wrong." He spoke softly, like his voice could hurt me. I liked it. I liked someone treating me so sweetly. Like he loved me like family should.

 

"Mom, it's my fault she's gone. Emma, it's my fault that our baby sister is gone. I killed them, Alec. I killed them both! If I didn't insist we take the long way home, we wouldn't have been on that intersection. That truck wouldn't have hit us. They would still be here!" I sobbed and my voice broke. Alec rubbed my back soothingly and I finally fell asleep in his arms.

 

* * *

 

"Sis, wake up. We have to go to school." Alec shook my body lightly, and my eyes fluttered open. "There you go. Sit up." He helped me sit up. I rubbed my eyes and threw my legs over the bed. Alec went out and I took a short shower and got dressed. I slipped on a pair of skinny jeans and a graphic tee. I brushed my black, thick hair and applied eyeliner on my pale blue eyes. My skin was so pale. I stroked my cheek lightly and put on my converses.

 

I went downstairs and Alec was waiting for me. I got in his truck and waited for him. He turned the truck on and I nearly screamed. He jumped. "Sis, calm down. This truck is huge. It's okay." I nodded at his soothing words and he drove to school.

I sat there, frozen where I was. Alec got out and lifted me from the truck. "Sis, snap out of it. It's just school. It's okay." He walked me into the building, making sure I wasn't going to fall, or bolt for the road, hoping to get hit by a car.

 

I watched a bus go by, and shuttered. My mother flashed in my head. Suicide, the voice muttered in my ear. I looked around, no one was there.

 

Save me, Avellana. Save me, come be with me, darling. My mother. I heard my mother's voice. It was ringing in my ear, her shrill voice, when she wanted me to do something. "Mommy..."

 

Yes, honey. Come join me and your sister. It's okay. And that's when I remembered the razor in my shoe. You'll be so much happier, Avellana. She sounded like she was sad. "Mother, you're sad." No, darling. I'm not. I want you. With me. Come darling. I picked the razor from my pocket. I played with the blade. Come on darling. No one will mind. They'll understand. I knew they wouldn't, but I was blinded by hearing my mother. I loved the sound of her voice, when she sang me to sleep, every night. Just run it across your throat, honey. That's all you have to do. I was alone. Alec left me alone. I pressed the razor to my throat. Now, push. I pushed the razor in my skin and closed my eyes, picturing my mother and sister. Now, jerk your arm, and your body will fall. I jerked my arm, as my mother told me to. Now, Avellana. You will join me. And the last sound I heard as my body spiralled down was my startling scream and his voice, planning my own suicide.

　

Author's Note

Okay, so it's creepy. I mean when I was writing it, I was creeping myself out. But I guess I wrote it because of all the death that's been going on lately. I guess that's it. Whatever...it scared me. Maybe I need help o.O anyway, tell me what you think about it, please.

Reviews

[17thWhitePrince]

Creepy for sure especially at the end of it all =<
I'm sure for those that have chosen suicide that might be what it sounds like to some..
How they are being called home..

Your writing can be so dark at times

Definately a tragic story but well written nonetheless =)

[Calypso]

The story could have more of a flow. And there are a lot of gaps, like how did she git from her counselor's to being with her friends.
Nevertheless I did enjoy reading it.