You Don't Believe in God, I Don't Believe in Luck

When you're not with the ones you love, you always feel like dying; sometimes, it gets harder, and other times, you just cry over it. Now was one of the times when it was hitting me harder.
I was alone at home, curled onto the wall, crying so much I could barely breathe; memories of the past were running through my head, and making my heart bleed, just like bullets. Memories of the day my father died were flashing: the way my mother told me and my sister to go to her friend's house, the way my sister couldn't make it to the burying of my father's coffin, on his funeral, the way my mother cried... I was only seven, at that time, so, I wasn't too hurt by his death, since he got sick when I was three, and he wouldn't speak, or anything; which means, I never got to know him enough to miss him that much.
It wasn't those memories that were hurting me so bad; the images that appeared after them were the ones that were killing me inside...

***
It was just another normal day for a eleven-year-old-girl. I was coming home from school, tired from all the classes I had had, just looking for some rest beside my mom, laying on her bed with her, while she played her favorite game, talking to me and making me laugh. But today, she wasn't acting like herself. She seemed a little dizzy and couldn't talk right.
- Why are you talking like that, mom? - I asked, confused, looking at her with a worried look.
She opened up her mouth, but didn't talk; she just pointed to it, like if she was pointing to her tooth, so, I supposed her tooth were hurting.
- You don't need to talk like that because your tooth hurts! - I said, laughing and going to my room, to do my homework.
My sister was on her room, doing her homework, and I heard my mother throwing up on the bathroom beside my room, and I felt sick myself; everytime I heard someone throwing up, I felt like throwing up myself.
She stopped, and I controlled my own vomiting, before all the food I had on my stomach would get out, through my mouth.
I got back on my homework, bored, when, all of a sudden, I heard a strong noise coming from outside my room. I got up instantly, and went to the hallway, and my sister was there, too, worried.
- Was that you? - She asked, preocuppied.
- No... was it you? - I replied, getting scared.
She shook her head, and added: - I think it came from the kitchen.
We both walked quickly to the kitchen, worried about that strange noise, only to see my mom sitting on the groung, leaning onto the wall beside our heavy marble table, that she had moved when she fell. She seemed lost and confuse, and she didn't seem to recongnize me.
- Mom! Are you okay? - My sister asked, kneeling in front of her.
My mother didn't reply, and my sister, scared as hell, asked my brother to call her. When he eventually did, she told him my mother had fallen and that she didn't recognized us, and she gave my mom the phone, so my brother would talk to her.
After that, I started crying, while my mother was giving back my sister's phone.
- Sara, there's a guy on the phone called Nuno saying it's my son, but I don't know who he is... I'm scared - she said, looking like a little child.
I walked out of the kitchen, sick of all that.
***
I came back to present, to all the tears falling onto the ground, to my bloodshot painful eyes, to the tragedy my life was. I remembered the way I cried at my mom's funeral, a week after my twelveth aniversary, and the way my brothers told me that we had to be all there to help each other through anything. I promised I was going to keep the promise, but it was definetly hard, when my own sister was dying from lung cancer; I was only fifteen, I couldn't stand all that.

My sister was an year-and-half older than me, and she almost never smoke, but my mother used to smoke a lot, and it affected her lungs so bad, she was dying from lung cancer, now; somehow, I didn't get affected.
I wasn't allowed on the hospital, since I was fifteen, which was tearing me apart; due to that fact, my brothers were trying to find a way for me to go visit her. They were even trying to talk with the hospital's director! Despite of that, being away from the hospital was good, since my brothers would spend the whole day stuck there, and I'd be alone at home, able to smoke another smoking weed, without them noticing.
Weed was the only thing that could take me out of my depression mood; well, music helped a lot, but it was just a way of understanding, not a pain killer.

I got to my room's balcony, with a bag of weed inside my jeans' pocket, a little bit of paper to make the roll and a lighter. When I was outside, I closed the glass door, so my cat wouldn't come with me, and sat on the ground, still crying, just willing to do that roll real fast. When it was done, I quickly lighted it, and took a big whiff of my beloved weed, the one that would make me stop cry, that would clear all the memories of the messed past I had, that would release me from the pain and sadness. I kept doing that, until it was finished, and I got back inside, taking a shower to let go of the smell, and going to my computer, putting My Chemical Romance on the media player, and writing on my blog, talking to one of the two lucky people who'd I still care for, even though she didn't know about my drug problem.

My brothers got home, and I thanked Satan I had already put away my weed, 'cause, if they caught me, they'd kill me. Anyway... They got inside my room, smiling slightly, and I understood they had some good new to tell me, despite nothing they could tell me would actually cheer me up that much.
- Good news - my older brother told me, and I nodded, so he would continue. - You're now allowed to visit Sara.
- Really? - I asked, and what it felt like a smile was showing across my face. He nodded, and I got up instantly, careful to not get too close to him.
- You wanna go there now? - My other brother asked, and I nodded, running downstairs.
I picked up my black leather jacket, had my mobile phone on my pocket, and grabbed the keys, opening the door. My brothers instantly followed me, going to the car. I sat on the backseat, put my earphones, and, once again, My Chemical Romance was on the play. My older brother was driving, a little slower than I wanted him to, but I was okay.
We arrived at the hospital, and they guided me to my sister's room, and, when they were about to follow me inside, I silently asked them some alone time with her. They nodded, and I closed the door behind me, facing the horrible truth my sister was living.
She had needles on her arm, a tube on her nose, so she would breathe, her hair had fallen, she looked palid and fragile... It reminded me of the song 'Cancer', by My Chemical Romance, and, while I sat beside my sleeping sister, I listened to it over and over again, crying my heart out.
- Dannie? - My sister called, and I turned my teary eyes to her. - Daniela, don't cry, please... It's better if I die, now. It will be better for me; you can't even imagine how many pain I'm feeling.
- That's not making me feel better now - I said to her, cold and shocked.
- I know, but you have to face the truth while you can... I'm dying soon, little sister, but I know you'll carry on; you're strong enough for that, you handled with mom's death.
- Actually, I didn't. I'm not as strong as everyone thinks, Sara, I'm just a weak teenage girl that needs some love to be happy, but it seems that no one will ever let me have that... - I replied, holding her hand between mine. - And you're not dying soon, I won't let you. They won't take you away from me.
She didn't reply, just stared at me with painful eyes, crying a bit. I bent down her bad, and rested my head on our hands, crying; she squeezed my hand a tiny bit, and I looked up at her.
- Goodbye, Dannie. I love you, and I'll be watching you - she said, hardly breathing.
- WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DIE! - I screamed at her, crying as her eyes faded, and closed. Her living-machine beeps turned into only one, and I cried even much. - NO! WAKE UP! SOMEBODY HELP! - I screamed, and nurses got in the room, hurrying to my sister's bed. - Please, do something... bring her back - I whispered, kneeing beside my sister's bed, never letting go of her hand.
- Time of death: 6:18 pm; I'm sorry sweetheart - a nurse said, coming to bring me up, but I pushed her away, and looked at the crucifixe behind the hospital bed.
- You're not even there, are you? I got it now... you're just an invention Satan made, so we could have some kind of hope, and then he could tear us apart... I got it... People say there's no point at god creating evil... that's 'cause he didn't. It was you, Satan, who created him, so people would have goodness inside of them, and then you'd crash it and have some kind of pleasure with that. Yep, you're a freaking bastard, but you're a genious - I said to it, with evil crazy eyes; then, I got up, and broke the crucifixe, making my brothers grab my arms before I did anything more stupid to me... little they know what I had already done to myself, on the last four months, when my sister was at the hospital.