Status: Kellic collab
Just Another Boy Without a Sharper Knife
Two.
Kellin's POV.
"Kellin! I'm home!" I heard my mom call as the front door opened. I threw my lego castle on the ground and saw it shatter into a million pieces. I smiled at myself when it fell, pleased with how much of an impact I had on the small object. This is what I liked to do, I liked to change things. I ran downstairs and into my mothers arms, which were full of groceries.
"Mommy!" I said, latching on to her leg. I only came up to about her waist so it was easy for me to wrap my arms around her thigh and squeeze, showing my affection. My mom was my favorite person in the world; I loved my dad, but he was distant.
"Hey, Honey. How was your day? Where's Caroline?" She asked prying me off her leg and walking past me to set the bags of food on the counter. Caroline was my babysitter and she spent every day with me while my mom was at college and my dad was at work.
"I built a castle, Mom!" I told her jumping up and down.
"Really? You'll have to show it to me later!"
"Oh, no, I dropped it!" I said beaming. "Boom!" I opened my hands and made a motion like I was dropping something. My mom laughed at me before repeating her question, "Where's Caroline?"
"Caroline went home, Daddy got here early!" I beamed up at my mother. She looked at me puzzled.
"Daddy got home early? Why is that?" She asked. I shrugged my shoulders and explained to her how I hadn't seen dad since he walked through the door and told Caroline she wasn't needed for the rest of the day. After Caroline left he gave me a hug and a kiss and said 'I love you so much, okay? Never ever forget that.' with tears in his eyes he put me down and walked to his room.
"Okay..." My mom said standing up straight. "Kellin you stay here you got it? Stay right here." I nodded, not wanting to disobey my mother. I watched her walk down the hallway to her and Dad's room and try opening the door. When it wouldn't open she began knocking on it furiously. She didn't get a reply.
"Mom..." I said scared. She shushed me and assured me it was okay. She reached her hand up to the top of the door and pulled down the key.
"Stay there, okay Kellin?" I nodded but cautiously inched closer. She unlocked the door and walked in. When she was out of sight I walked down the hall and peeked in the door. Just as I was about to walk back to the kitchen I heard her scream.
"Mommy!" I yelled running into the room. I found her in the bathroom with my father cradled in her arms. My dad had two empty bottles in his hands- one of alcohol and one of pills. He was bleeding really bad on his arms and my mom was getting covered in blood. She didn't see me there as she cried into my dad's shirt. Before she could turn around though, I ran. I ran back to the kitchen and stood right where she told me to stand, pretending I didn't see anything.
- - -
That was all I remember from that day. That was all I needed to remember. That's enough to keep the nightmares fresh in my mind and the pain fresh in my chest. I was seven years old when I saw my father dead, but it wasn't until I was 12 years old that I realized he took his own life.
Part of you will always feel guilty, ya know? When someone close to you takes their own life you can't help but think; 'What did I do wrong?', 'What could I have done better?', 'Why wasn't I enough?'. I still ask myself those questions sometimes, but it's subsided a little. I realize that there was something chemically off in my fathers head and that I could never have fixed that. My mother realizes that, too. It helps that my mom spends every day with people just like him, changing their lives.
That's what I want to do, as well. I want to help other people because I couldn't help my father. Maybe if I had been older I could have had those 'heart-to-hearts' that sons and dad's have. Maybe he would have told me that he was upset. Or maybe nothing would have changed, and I just would have been older. Now though, I can help people that need me and they can live, hopefully. That's all I want is to save someone's life; because I couldn't save his.
My mom still doesn't know that I saw my father's body that day. She thinks that I stayed in that spot until she sent me over to the neighbor's house. I don't know if I'll ever tell her, I don't know why I should. It's been 10 years since then and it hasn't come up. My father comes up a lot; my mother often says 'your father would be so proud', 'I wish your Dad could see you now', or other things along the line. We don't get sad when we talk about it anymore because we both know that it must have been hard for him to live but he did it for us, anyways. Instead of talking about Dad as a sad tragedy, we talk about him as a beautiful memory.
It wasn't beautiful though. There is nothing beautiful about the way my father was. I hate when people talk about suicide or self-harm or depression as being 'tragically beautiful'. It's not beautiful and it's not something to be mesmerized over. There's nothing beautiful about seeing your entire life in black and white. There's nothing beautiful about picturing a future without yourself in it. There's nothing beautiful about feeling like a weight on the shoulders of everyone you love and feeling like they're better off without you.
Because they aren't better off without you. I'm living proof of that.
"Kellin! I'm home!" I heard my mom call as the front door opened. I threw my lego castle on the ground and saw it shatter into a million pieces. I smiled at myself when it fell, pleased with how much of an impact I had on the small object. This is what I liked to do, I liked to change things. I ran downstairs and into my mothers arms, which were full of groceries.
"Mommy!" I said, latching on to her leg. I only came up to about her waist so it was easy for me to wrap my arms around her thigh and squeeze, showing my affection. My mom was my favorite person in the world; I loved my dad, but he was distant.
"Hey, Honey. How was your day? Where's Caroline?" She asked prying me off her leg and walking past me to set the bags of food on the counter. Caroline was my babysitter and she spent every day with me while my mom was at college and my dad was at work.
"I built a castle, Mom!" I told her jumping up and down.
"Really? You'll have to show it to me later!"
"Oh, no, I dropped it!" I said beaming. "Boom!" I opened my hands and made a motion like I was dropping something. My mom laughed at me before repeating her question, "Where's Caroline?"
"Caroline went home, Daddy got here early!" I beamed up at my mother. She looked at me puzzled.
"Daddy got home early? Why is that?" She asked. I shrugged my shoulders and explained to her how I hadn't seen dad since he walked through the door and told Caroline she wasn't needed for the rest of the day. After Caroline left he gave me a hug and a kiss and said 'I love you so much, okay? Never ever forget that.' with tears in his eyes he put me down and walked to his room.
"Okay..." My mom said standing up straight. "Kellin you stay here you got it? Stay right here." I nodded, not wanting to disobey my mother. I watched her walk down the hallway to her and Dad's room and try opening the door. When it wouldn't open she began knocking on it furiously. She didn't get a reply.
"Mom..." I said scared. She shushed me and assured me it was okay. She reached her hand up to the top of the door and pulled down the key.
"Stay there, okay Kellin?" I nodded but cautiously inched closer. She unlocked the door and walked in. When she was out of sight I walked down the hall and peeked in the door. Just as I was about to walk back to the kitchen I heard her scream.
"Mommy!" I yelled running into the room. I found her in the bathroom with my father cradled in her arms. My dad had two empty bottles in his hands- one of alcohol and one of pills. He was bleeding really bad on his arms and my mom was getting covered in blood. She didn't see me there as she cried into my dad's shirt. Before she could turn around though, I ran. I ran back to the kitchen and stood right where she told me to stand, pretending I didn't see anything.
- - -
That was all I remember from that day. That was all I needed to remember. That's enough to keep the nightmares fresh in my mind and the pain fresh in my chest. I was seven years old when I saw my father dead, but it wasn't until I was 12 years old that I realized he took his own life.
Part of you will always feel guilty, ya know? When someone close to you takes their own life you can't help but think; 'What did I do wrong?', 'What could I have done better?', 'Why wasn't I enough?'. I still ask myself those questions sometimes, but it's subsided a little. I realize that there was something chemically off in my fathers head and that I could never have fixed that. My mother realizes that, too. It helps that my mom spends every day with people just like him, changing their lives.
That's what I want to do, as well. I want to help other people because I couldn't help my father. Maybe if I had been older I could have had those 'heart-to-hearts' that sons and dad's have. Maybe he would have told me that he was upset. Or maybe nothing would have changed, and I just would have been older. Now though, I can help people that need me and they can live, hopefully. That's all I want is to save someone's life; because I couldn't save his.
My mom still doesn't know that I saw my father's body that day. She thinks that I stayed in that spot until she sent me over to the neighbor's house. I don't know if I'll ever tell her, I don't know why I should. It's been 10 years since then and it hasn't come up. My father comes up a lot; my mother often says 'your father would be so proud', 'I wish your Dad could see you now', or other things along the line. We don't get sad when we talk about it anymore because we both know that it must have been hard for him to live but he did it for us, anyways. Instead of talking about Dad as a sad tragedy, we talk about him as a beautiful memory.
It wasn't beautiful though. There is nothing beautiful about the way my father was. I hate when people talk about suicide or self-harm or depression as being 'tragically beautiful'. It's not beautiful and it's not something to be mesmerized over. There's nothing beautiful about seeing your entire life in black and white. There's nothing beautiful about picturing a future without yourself in it. There's nothing beautiful about feeling like a weight on the shoulders of everyone you love and feeling like they're better off without you.
Because they aren't better off without you. I'm living proof of that.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry!