Snippet #1432707

"Commiting suicide means your a coward!"

Alice screamed disheartened, but resentful. Crash; there goes the vase Grandpa gave us for Christmas.

"No, commiting suicide means I'm not in denial." Corrections formed in my voice; eyes glaring at the shattered glass over the floor.

"Oh shut up with that crap, Devon! I'm your mother; what am I supposed to do, let you end your life? No! Kids aren't supposed to die before their parents!"
She was still shrieking. And, if you asked me, she needed to shut the he'll up.

"Their not 'supposed' to. You always talk about when it's 'you're time to die'. Mine is now. It's just a bit sooner then everyone else's."
Pique was erupting; it showed threw in the tone.

"That's it, I'm calling your father!" Beep, beep, beep. Her right hand held the phone; left pressing the buttons to call my dad.

"Fuck. Him." Vemon; that's the word. It leaked through as I spoke; how I despised my fucking 'father'.

The furious nature brandished in my mom's eyes; she was responding, and charged at me.
"You stupid bitch! Don't you ever say that about your dad again." My cheek felt the impact as she slapped me.

I almost fell; but my weight was supported by the wall.
My mom was usually a quiet, meek person. Lashing out was rare; and I was the special person to witness it all.

"We gave you everything! And this is how you repay us? By trying to leave us, through a freaking rope!? Why the hell would you try to do that to me, to your dad, your parents?" Oh, yes, she was pissed off alright.

And only four words came to my mind;

Maybe this was why.

Devon's brownish-gold eyes just stared up to the stupid same blank cealing, in the stupid same psychiatric bedroom, in the stupid same hospital, in the stupid same city; in the stupid. Same. Life.

Just as always, flashbacks rewinded and replayed in her mind's eye of the day the decision was final;
She was coming to Sky.

Devon hoped hoped she'd pissed them off; both of them, the assholes she was stuck with as her parents.

Suicidal; yeah, she was that. Another flipping label; sent along with many others to this 'psychiatric hospital'.
Yeah, She thought, more like a asylum.

Yes, she wanted to die. Yes, she wanted to hurt herself.
The doctors asked her the same thing when she came to Sky as when her mom had brought her to the hospital.
Apparently carving 'FUCK YOU' and 'EMO' into her arms with a exacto knife was 'bad'.
If you asked Devon, she'd have a few rants to tell everyone what was freaking bad.

"No, commiting suicide means I'm not in denial." Rewind, replay... rewind... replay.

Not having a choice in the matter, a choice of her own death, was what she hated most. She hated waking up in Sky. She hated waking up. She hated having to live in this god forsaken world. But, again, it wasn't her choice.

Devon got up, forcing herself to, before she dragged her body over to the bathroom. She got ready; washroom, makeup, hair. She had to have thrown a huge fit to get a straightener in her room. It only went up to 140 degrees though. And according to the annoying staff, she'd find 'severe punishment' if she burnt herself.
Right. Whatever.

When she took off her shirt to change, her goldish eyes gazed to the scars which not only lined her arms, but also those that decorated from her thighs to her calves. She admired them, the cuts, each one abnormally puffed up.

Why? Hairspray.

Yeah, she'd used hairspray on open cuts. She liked when it hurt; but it also made them more visible. She wanted them to see; see the scars if someone looked at her across the room.

Silky black was her V-neck shirt, as Devon had finished getting ready. She wore that, and black sweats, with black Puma running shoes.
Today Devon's body temperature was not so low, so wearing her normal red plaid jacket, or even her tight white hoodie, would make her too hot.

Everyone would just have to deal with seeing her very much so visible scars;
As if she gived a shit.

Click.
Devon closed her room door, eyes glancing around the hallway.