Tears were rolling down my face. My cuore hurt, and my thoughts were scrambled.
It was a giorno that reflected my emotions. The clouds covered the sky completely and were threatening to rain, the wind was howling and my family was being ripped apart.
My parents were both suicidal, and were always having what they call “accidents”. One week, I found my mother cutting her wrists in the bathroom. Her blood was puddling on the floor, and she was crying. I called her therapist, who talked her out of it. Again. My father was no better. He tried to thrown himself out the third story window of our house, onto the road full of oncoming traffic. It had only gotten worse over the years. Nearly everyday, I was having to call the police o their doctors. For a 12 anno old kid, this was my normal life.
My Friends always asked why I never spent the night away from home. My response was that I didn't want anything to happen. Everyone knew about their problem, so I never tried to hide it. The student counselor had become one of my closest friends. She never judged me, o asked why my family was so messed up.
My life was a wreak. Once, my parents had had a breakdown. It was one of the scariest moments in my life. I was taken to the upstairs bathroom, where my mother tried to slit my wrists while my dad held me down. Luckily, the neighbor heard my shouts and called the police. I still have the scars from this incident, not to mention quite a few others from different “accidents”.
Today was the giorno my parents had done it. I had come home from school to find the house silent. Deathly silent. I ran from room to room shouting there names. It was the last room I checked where I found them. In the attic, they had hung themselves together. The ropes were cutting into the soft flesh of their necks. They swung slowly, hand in hand. I was Frozen to the spot, my hand still on the door. That's where the neighbors found me. They detto they hadn't heard anything from the house all afternoon. What had brought them over was a scream. My scream, I didn't even know I had let loose.
The police came. They investigated the whole house before they started asking me questions. I was to shocked to say anything. I stayed this way for two weeks. Hardly uttering a word. My aunt had come to stay with me until we could figure out what to do. My health got so bad, that my aunt called a doctor. He advised that I be sent to a hospital, but not any old hospital. He was sending me to a mental hospital. “Just until she is out of shock.” was what my aunt was told.
Sitting in the car outside the house, I felt lost, hopeless even. What più could I go through before I was driven mad, like my parents.
That was three years ago.
It was a giorno that reflected my emotions. The clouds covered the sky completely and were threatening to rain, the wind was howling and my family was being ripped apart.
My parents were both suicidal, and were always having what they call “accidents”. One week, I found my mother cutting her wrists in the bathroom. Her blood was puddling on the floor, and she was crying. I called her therapist, who talked her out of it. Again. My father was no better. He tried to thrown himself out the third story window of our house, onto the road full of oncoming traffic. It had only gotten worse over the years. Nearly everyday, I was having to call the police o their doctors. For a 12 anno old kid, this was my normal life.
My Friends always asked why I never spent the night away from home. My response was that I didn't want anything to happen. Everyone knew about their problem, so I never tried to hide it. The student counselor had become one of my closest friends. She never judged me, o asked why my family was so messed up.
My life was a wreak. Once, my parents had had a breakdown. It was one of the scariest moments in my life. I was taken to the upstairs bathroom, where my mother tried to slit my wrists while my dad held me down. Luckily, the neighbor heard my shouts and called the police. I still have the scars from this incident, not to mention quite a few others from different “accidents”.
Today was the giorno my parents had done it. I had come home from school to find the house silent. Deathly silent. I ran from room to room shouting there names. It was the last room I checked where I found them. In the attic, they had hung themselves together. The ropes were cutting into the soft flesh of their necks. They swung slowly, hand in hand. I was Frozen to the spot, my hand still on the door. That's where the neighbors found me. They detto they hadn't heard anything from the house all afternoon. What had brought them over was a scream. My scream, I didn't even know I had let loose.
The police came. They investigated the whole house before they started asking me questions. I was to shocked to say anything. I stayed this way for two weeks. Hardly uttering a word. My aunt had come to stay with me until we could figure out what to do. My health got so bad, that my aunt called a doctor. He advised that I be sent to a hospital, but not any old hospital. He was sending me to a mental hospital. “Just until she is out of shock.” was what my aunt was told.
Sitting in the car outside the house, I felt lost, hopeless even. What più could I go through before I was driven mad, like my parents.
That was three years ago.
