Shattered Glass, chapter 2

My Mother was dead. Blood seeped onto the carpet and was drying on the ends of my hair. My hands looked like I had eaten soup without a spoon, and I was shaking all over. Salty tasting water dripped from my eyes and ran down my neck, passing the tears on to my mothers eyes. I couldn't do it any longer. First my Father, then my Mother. Next it was my turn. I walked to the kitchen. I felt light headed and free. On the kitchen table lay an empty tin. My killer yet my best friend. I picked up the lid in my fingertips. It was sharp and spiky. As I touched one of the spikes my wrist tingled. I knew what I had to do. The metal collided cruelly with my wrist as I fell to the floor. As I clasped my wrist I stared at it finally realising what I had done. Blood journeyed through the gaps between my fingers and under my fingernails. I screamed as loud as I could, knowing to the world I was silent.....

I woke up in the middle of the floor shielded by my blanket. My hand was clasped around the bulging veins in my wrist. I looked around the room in darkness. I had obviously fallen back asleep. I strode to my feet and broke down in my bed in tears, crying for everything. My Dad, the guy who slit his wrists. My Mum the raging alcoholic, soon to be dead. My entire shit life, full of death and hatred. And the fact that my dream was still a dream to me.

But I wasn't going to give in. I could do it no matter how hard. I picked up my guitar and sat on the bed.
"Flying solo with the thoughts in my bed, remember times when I have wished I was dead...."
The words flowed out from my lips like water. Everything fell out onto a sheet of paper where I began to write my hard times.