Dear Family

 

Tablo reader up chevron

Introduction

A reminder that peers, and friends, and classmates aren't the only ones that play such a role in these happenings, but that family plays a big role.

Comment Log in or Join Tablo to comment on this chapter...

1

    Creaking sounds from the old door on its hinges as Louise slowly opens it.  A gasp sounds form her mouth, and her hand flies up to cover it.

    "Oh, my god," she breathes, tears already sliding down her aging face.

     Right now she's about to age another ten years, because what's swaying in front of her, is her daughter. Rope around Stephanie's neck, tied tight, letting no air in. Louise rushes to her side, attempting to untie the knot. It's already too late. the air stopped getting through long ago.

    "Mark!" Louise tries, sounding as if she's the one lacking air.

    Running down the hall to aid his wife, Mark comes, worried. Ron and Karlee trail behind him at the same pace, but freeze when they all reach the doorway to Stephanie's room. Poor Ron already scared, shrinks back behind Karlee who's frowning.

    Louise falls to her knees, a mess of sobs, her hands covering her face. So unknowing. So clueless. So wondrous. Why did she do it? What made her do it? What pushed her? What could Louise have done, as her mother, to stop it? And, as her mother, how did Louise not see any signs?

    "Check the journal," Karlee says, standing near Stephanie's bed, where a journal sits, closed, with a post-it stuck to the front. The words "Open me" scribed on it in pen.

    With no one listening to her, Karlee opens the journal herself, and begins to read whatever her sister wrote, hoping to find an explanation.

    

    I'll start this off by saying I'm sorry. I know this isn't fair for any of you to deal with, but for me to suffer and go through pain, to spare you all pain, is not fair either. So, here it is. My famous last words. It's quite a lot for it being my last, but in this journal, it's all here. Everything you're probably asking yourselves. Maybe even some things you aren't expecting. Or some things you don't even want to know. Well, it's here. And I won't tell you where whatever you want to read is written. You all ignored me before, so now I'm making you read it. Every. Last. Word.

    

Comment Log in or Join Tablo to comment on this chapter...

2

    Maybe, if you ignored me while I was with you, you won't care to read what I've written. I'm counting on you to not be that heartless. So, where should I start my story. Where, oh where, do I begin to tell you what you've done wrong to make me take my own life?

    Mom, let's start with you. Not to make you feel any worse, but it all starts with you. You and Mark. You could have waited until I was old enough to know what was going on to decide to remarry. But instead, you rushed into yet another romantic relationship even though we all know how well that went the first time. Now, let me just say, you could have made better decisions than the ones you did.

    Louise sits in the dining room, hands shaking as she holds the journal. Eyes blurring as she tries to read what her daughter wrote about her.

    Marrying Dad for one, was such a stupid thing to do. You saw all of the red flags, and yet married him anyway. And then you had two kids with him, just to make sure he'd stick around. Just to make sure it wasn't just a hard life for you, but for your two daughters as well when they enter the world, and you file for divorce anyway. Or, you could have stopped at one kid, but you decided that you weren't unhappy enough to leave yet, and maybe one more kid would do it. Sure enough, just after I came along, the household was split.

    Not even a year after you forced Dad to move out, Mark comes into the picture, and from what Karlee says, your marriage was nearly instantaneous. Great to know you learned your lesson the first time around, to wait and get to know the guy before tying the knot.

    It wasn't so bad at first, I didn't even really know what was happening. But then Ron came along, and I was instantly overshadowed. I was still your baby, in my eyes. But in yours you had a new baby, and a new family to mix with your old, messed up one. And instantly, though you would try to deny it, the favoritism starts.

    Even then it wasn't so bad, and I coped with being second to your son. The son you always wanted. While I was merely a duplicate of what you already had, and another reminder of what a mistake you made. Ron and I got along rather well, sure, but I still didn't like the way we were living. Everything changed so quickly, I could barely keep up. I was only a toddler myself. Still growing up.

    Speaking of growing up, childhood is a bit hazy. Most I remember is a few family vacations to the beach, or Disney. Which, for me, weren't much fun considering I hate the beach, and I can't handle roller coasters, or spiny rides. Of course, Mark was the same way. So, you and Ron would go off to do the things you wanted, and Mark and I would sit around and wait, with nothing to talk about I might add. All he seemed to ever say is something that makes fun of you. You saw it as bonding, and thought it was a good thing. Little did you know it was awkward for me, and I hated it.

    All through this I had my theories. His love for you didn't seem genuine. As I grew up, I watched. My own theories included: he was cheating on you, or he was gay. I don't know what I thought at the ripe age of ten, but I know it felt off to me, and I hated it.

    Might I add as well, that he absolutely hated Dad, which rubbed me the wrong way, because then it felt like he hated me and Karlee. Sure, it was only him asserting his masculinity- which he actually tended to lack- but it came off as more than that. And as I grew up, I heard you and Mark bad-mouth Dad. Naturally, I grew to believe that my dad was a bad person, and sure he has his faults. Everyone has faults. He just happens to have an abundance of them. Either way, it's not fair that I had to grow up and listen to what you had to say. I hated it.

    Once puberty started, I was definitely more emotional. But I just did not like the way we were living. I was maybe eleven, and Karlee was fighting with you and Mark almost constantly. It tore me up inside as a child who was already confused. It was usually just stupid arguments between you and Karlee that Mark- for whatever reason- felt the need to insert himself into. "To defend you," you would always say. But what was Karlee going to do? Speak her mind? Oh, gosh, so glad Mark came to save you, and felt the need to scream back at Karlee, or shove her, or threaten to choke her. 

    Really, he just can't handle words. He needs his own physicality to defend himself from our words. Maybe he should just grow some testicles and then we'll talk.

    By the way, Mom, this is me finding you red flags.

    Anyway, I grew up seeing Mark as my enemy. I was right to actually. Once I hit about thirteen, I started getting into more simple arguments with you, and the fights just came on more and more. Mark "came to your defense" as he always felt the need to, and it was as if Karlee never left for college. Or, rather, she did, but I took her place.

    On top of fights, and pushing me to the ground, he treated me like dirt. Basically, he neglected me and painted everything out to be my fault, and since I'm "just a stupid kid" you believed what he was feeding you. I knew this was going on- his voice isn't exactly the quietest. That's when I started purposely getting rude with you. You already had an image of me, so I figured it wouldn't matter how nice I acted, and acted terrible.

    Naturally, this only added fuel to the fire. You didn't know, and I'm sure this is the first time you're hearing of this, but when I was about fourteen, I was breaking. High school just started, and our situation wasn't getting any better. I broke to the point where I started breaking my own skin. With a razor. Purposely.

    Nearly a year later, during one of our fights, I told you I'm depressed, and I wasn't happy with how I'm living. It's not fair that I had no control over my own life for another three or four years, and I was already to the point of taking it out on myself. So now you knew, but didn't really take me seriously.

    Six months after that fight, I warn you. I tell you I'm still not happy, and it's not fair that nothing has changed, and you've done nothing to change anything to help me. You ask how you can help and I only say "I don't know" instead of telling you to break up your marriage. I knew that was me being too selfish, even if that was the key to my happiness. Even if that would end all of our issues and stop what was going on behind the scenes with my arms and a razor. I mentioned that maybe, just maybe, the only change we could make is me killing myself.

    To such a surprise, Mark chimes in once again spitting out with so much hatred, "maybe you should just go kill yourself," snickering after the words leave his mouth. He calls my bluff and makes a joke out of it, walking away like a cocky bastard afterwards. Leaving me to crumble. Thinking he's finally won the verbal abuse game.

    Another red flag, Mom.

 

Comment Log in or Join Tablo to comment on this chapter...
~

You might like E.B.A. Scott 's other books...