Indigo

Lily’s POV
It’s over, my sister is gone. They found her dead on the ground outside her bedroom window. She told me she was better. It had been three weeks since the ‘incident’ as my mother would often call it. My life had gone back to normal, I had control again. Then she had to go and do this.
I screamed when I found her: ‘Angela!’ I sobbed as I looked at her lifeless body on the ground. My mother rushed from her car only to collapse to her knees at the sight. ‘Angie wake up!’ She pleaded, ‘Angela come back!’ I begged.
That day and the next several to come after were numb. I didn't know what to think any more. I talked to no one and I never left my room. My mother tried to get me to eat something but I refused. I had control over my own body and that’s all I had left. I couldn't stop Dad from leaving, I couldn't stop Mom from drinking her sorrows away, I couldn't stop everyone from pitying me, and I couldn't stop my big sister Angie from jumping. The one thing I could control was myself and I’d like to keep it that way.
I looked in the mirror and all I saw was ugly. I was an awful excuse for a daughter and we were an awful excuse for a family. My life was slowly fading. My family was three down one to go.
My father, Daniel, left on his own accord when I was seven and Angela was ten. He was a great guy but, mom had always thought he was cheating and one day he was just gone and I hate him for that.
My mom, Kimberly, started drinking after Dad left and got another job and is barely home but when she is she’s drunk. She isn't aggressive or anything but she drinks to make the pain go away and she just sleeps or cries.
Angie was only 20 and beautiful, well on the outside. She had become so distant and I was all too caught up in senior year to notice my freelance photographer of a sister fading fast. She was always good at hiding things but I should have noticed she was cutting again or should have just been home. It’s my fault.
I don’t know where I stand anymore. Everyone says I ‘need to get help’ or tell me I haven’t been myself. I don’t need help; I need a friend, a hug, something to believe in.
Everything is blue. Not free sky blue, but thunderstorm or my oppressed, navy prep school jacket. I don’t eat anymore and it feels satisfying, it feels like I’m in control. The only thing keeping me alive is music and my control.

It’s my birthday. I’m 18 and I’m leaving.
As I was packing my mom walked into my room looking hung-over. “What do you want?” I asked in my most rude tone of voice.
“I know you’re leaving, but I got you something.” She said handing me an envelope.
I opened it. “Wow. . .” was all I could manage as I looked at the concert tickets in my hands.
“I know it’s not much, but I’m down to one job now and things are tight.” She apologized before slowly backing out of the door frame.
“Wait!” I stopped her. “Thank you so much, I've been talking about this concert for months, but I never thought you were listening.” I trailed off while fidgeting with the bottom of my hoodie.
“I know I’m not the best mom you could ask for, but I’m always listening.” She said sincerely.
I ran into her arms and wept. “You are all that I need and I love you.” I sobbed into her ratty hair.
“I love you too, but I know it’s good for you to be leaving and I’m letting you go; I’m setting you free.” She said before loosening my grip and sliding out my door.
I finished packing and looked at the tickets. ‘All Time Low’ they read, this is going to be fucking awesome.