When I Came Home That Day

WARNING: description of suicide attempt.

It had been just another day.

Another essay assigned,

another twenty minute lunch,

another walk home

alone.

I looked forward to the time at home

when I would be surrounded by silence

without my brother

without my sister

without any worries

for once.

I unlocked the door and took my headphones out

and the first thing I hear

is the breathing.

It’s labored and it’s heavy,

and my heart speeds up

and I’m sure my pupils dilated.

I dropped my bag

and walking slowly down the hall

that had never before

seemed

quite

so

long.

It’s coming from my bathroom.

I take a shaky breath of my own

and it matches the rasp

on the other side of the door.

My hand grasps the door knob

and I swung open the door

and

ev

ery

thing

stopped.

I don’t even think I had time to cry out

as I saw my brother lying on the floor-

the floor I couldn’t even see

because it was covered in blood.

The world became the slits on his wrists

and the world became the droop of his eyes

as the life bled out of him

like watery paint.

I think I screamed his name

and begged him not to go

and I ran down the hall

that had gotten

even longer

and I called nine-one-one

and the next three minutes

were the hardest

I ever lived.

I almost lost my brother that day,

so when I hear

someone I love

or someone I don’t

contemplate what he did

I relive the day

and wish I could make them see

how much they mean to someone

like me.

Author's Note

Thoughts, questions, comments?