1 Prologue, Death of a Young Man

"Look, all he's doing is trying to control you. That's why he took over when you get your Oxy and Fentanyl. You can't let him do this to you, you're his parents, not the other way around." Hearing that I couldn't help but to sigh, whispering to myself in my room. "I can hear you, you fucking bitch... My parents asked me to do it cause so much of it came short..." I can't really say that though, it's not like it'll be believed by them thanks to her.

Looking at my laptop's screen, I start to sigh as my fingers hover over the keyboard. Before me is my last will and testament as well as the note I want my parents to read. It took me an oddly short time to write it, yet even as I stare at it, I wonder if I said too much or not enough. Finally though, I save it and set it aside as I close my eyes. Just outside my room, in the living room I can hear her starting into her promises and lies again. All the while I can feel the walls of my tiny six foot by six foot room grow smaller as my heart grows all the colder.

It wasn't always like this though, I remember my parent's love even now. Even as I listen to them agree with her assessments of me, and fall further into the pit she's made. It was a happier time, a pleasant time, though it was filled with hardships as well. At least back then though, I never believed that they truly stopped loving me. Even as I reminisce, my heart just continues to grow colder and further toward the dead lands.

Finally pulling myself out of my memories, I am just in time to hear her telling mom that she saw me hurt her when she was in a spell. The insinuation, the audacity to say that! I quiver, my eyes almost bloodshot as I want nothing more than to storm forward and beat her till her eyes fade of that deceitful light! No, I can't... I want to, but I can't. All it would do is validate what she wants them to believe, that I'm violent and that I'd hurt them... Hurt my parents.

Why can't they see? I stand up, pacing my small room, my mind in shambles. She's lying so much, so obviously, even a child would be able to see through it! Yet they eat it up, and continue to do so! They believe everything she says and lets her manipulate them, even as she steals their medication they do so almost gladly! RAAAAAAH!! I want to scream, but I stuff it down, down into the depths of my soul.

Finally, I look to a box... A cell phone box, a cell phone I had for a good many years. It was missing now, along with many other things. When I tried to get treated for my depression, it was taken along with other precious pieces of my past and yet only a small portion was returned. But the box is there, and I pull it off the shelf. Opening up the box, I remove the little cardboard bit that once held that wonderful phone and look at the bottom. There, sitting right there, is my salvation.

I reach out, carefully, I pry the razor blade off from another like it and put the box back where I had it. All the while, in my hand is the tool to salvation. It's sharpened edge managed to nick me, even as I was careful with it, that sharpness just settling in my hand and yet it cut me slightly. The pain stings, but with it comes the calming of the waters of my soul.

I won't leave my room for this, the door is closed and they're far too busy. By the time they even realize it, she'll have long left, at least an hour or so. Taking a deep breath, I calm myself and as I do my eyes become dim. My soul tugs, anxious in it's escape from the restricting cage that prevents our freedom from reality.

Sliding down to sit on the floor. I make sure my position makes it hard for someone to see if they just make a cursory check. I want to make sure there's no chance of them finding me before I'm freed, so I had set up my bed to look as if I was sleeping on it. Meanwhile I was in my closet, only big enough to sit in cross-legged but it would be enough. With the razor in my hands, I close my eyes one more time to settle my quickened heart rate, my heavy breathing.

It's a quick movement, the blade's razor edge slices so easily it's surprising how quick it is. Even more so, how little it actually hurts. The cut is so clean, so quick, that my mind doesn't have time to know it's been hurt before it's done. I don't slice across my wrist, but down my arm. Following the length of my blood vessel I make sure it's far too open so even if discovered, it'll be impossible to save me.

Quickly I move the razor to the hand that I had sliced open, I have to work fast before I become weak. The hand is trembling though, I'm trembling. Excitement, euphoria! I haven't felt these things in so long, and as they return I remember that I once had these emotions... But now they are the moment's passing. I slash down my arm once again, opening up my other arm's blood vessel. At this point I'm trembling too much so I drop the blade into my lap and let my arms rest at my side. Blood flowing, sliding down my arms and connecting to my legs to follow further down to the floor.

The carpet is staining now, I can see it even though I don't feel much different yet... Wait, no, I do feel something... Is it regret? Looking back on my life, I had such a good family, such wonderful parents... But that was the past, can a person regret a past that they enjoyed? Then what is it that I regret? Perhaps it's that I didn't free my parents of that witch's claws.

I can feel it now, my breathing is haggard and difficult, but I am crying as well. Crying because I love my parents, because I wanted to make something out of my life. I open my mouth to cry out, yet nothing comes out. Even as my eyes grow cloudy with tears and I feel how much potential I had slowly draining out, I refuse to call out... I chose this path. It doesn't help my tears to clear up, but it does give me a strange sense... My body screams for regret, yet my soul only grows more calm as I accept what I chose to do.

Blackness, my sight dims along with my hearing, like everything is shutting down, trying to focus on keeping my soul caged up just a little bit longer. But it's worthless, no ambulance will come to save me. Thanks to her having their full attention, by the time they discover that I'm dead it'll be too late. My soul can't help but to laugh, to quiver as excitement charges through it's form.

Finally, I can feel it, that last second, that final moment's passing... I'm free...