Page 52

Aoi

The door slams behind me, an empty home awaiting me, but I can’t take that step.

I don’t remember how I got here. I recall figments of the drive but somehow nothing more. I stare at the hollow space where there was once joy and laughter.

Slumping against the door, I let reality sink in. I’m alone now. Back to the beginning when all I had was solitude and shattered dreams.

My parents. My sister. Visha.

Lost, all of them. Either dead or gone.

A tightness in my chest weighs me down with each breath, scaring me into nothingness.

Inhale. Exhale.

I’m paralyzed. I can no longer feel anything though I should. I’d understand if I wanted to cry and shout and break things. And yet nothing. Craving destruction and yet allowing this despair to swallow me up is typical of me.

Pathetic. Weak. Incompetent. Ruinous. Those are the perfect words to describe someone as cowardly as me.

“Shut up. Just shut up.” I hold my head in my palms, digging my fingers into my hair. “I’m so tired . Just stop it.”

Self-loathing. Regret. Rage. Despair. I need to end this.

End me.

***

I gape at the thick crimson liquid tainting the floor as it drips from my forearm and relief hits me like a wave.

I’ve missed this. The feeling of quiet, the thoughts fading into another universe. The burning and tingling ache of my dissected flesh brings me more comfort than I expected.

It spills and my head grows light. Spots fill my vision as I blink slowly, attempting to even my breathing. No amount of pain seems to be able to stop my mind from drifting to the past. The memories flip in front of me like the pages of an old book, slowly and carefully, allowing me to delve deeper into each smile, each laughter ever offered to me.

I wonder how long I need to bleed out to lose consciousness and how much blood I need to lose for this heavy burden to lift off my shoulders.

It’s pathetic. Hateful and shameful.

What would my mom say if she saw her only son destroy himself like this? Would my father get angry and shout at me? And my lovely Maia. I know she’d be bawling her eyes out, screaming at the top of her lungs as she always does when she’s upset.

But does any of that matter anymore? They’re dead after all. Eight long years ago. Yet I can’t stop thinking about them and wishing I had been in that car with them.

Maybe I’m doing the right thing for once. I wasn’t worth much anyway. Not without Visha.

Visha.

I shudder at the thought of him and wince. My head leans against the cold wall as I stare at the ceiling and sigh.

Bandage. I need to get a bandage. I have to stop the bleeding now. This is enough. But I can’t get up from the bathroom floor.

I glance at the bloodied razor blade and laugh.

It’s fine. It can finally end.

But when I think about Visha’s reaction if I were to die now, I can’t bring myself to bleed out here, in our home. He doesn’t deserve his memories to be spoiled by my rotten blood.

I force my body up as the liquid streams down my arm and stains the white floor while I grab the medical kit and patch up the cut.

Doesn’t it feel good? the voice in the back of my head echoes. Just let it be.

I can’t. I want to but I can’t.

Coward.

I don’t want to become a simple memory in their minds. A fragment to be forgotten when time has healed the wounds of their hearts. I don’t want that. I want to see Visha again and hold him with pride even if I don’t deserve it.

Let me be strong enough to remain by his side.

Please .