A Deeper Look

I was tired of dealing with him…I just didn't know what to do to make him leave me alone…He was always there; watching me, waiting for me, and just wanting me to speak to him. At first, I guess, he wasn't too bad, but he lost my trust when he tried to…I can't even say what he tried to do, even though he never got to it. I thought he was someone I could trust, but it turned out I thought wrong; he's tried to apologize about what he did, but I can't really help but think that all he wants is what he failed at getting before…

He lost my trust. Simple as that. He was never getting it back. Never. I wasn't going to let him try and get it back, no matter what he attempted. It was as easy as that…but he never seemed to understand that I hated him. Was it really that hard to figure out that the one person who once cared about you no longer did so? I never thought it was hard, but maybe that was just me; it probably was just me, too…I never understood him as much as I wanted to; I never understood why he had tried what he did; and I know I'll never know any of those things…

Oh how I hated him…with a burning passion. A passion that I had never felt before and I knew I would never feel it for someone, other than myself, again. Well…maybe for that wench I call my mother and her dumb ass husband…They could burn in hell for all I care, as long as my siblings were out of danger, unlike I was. I cared so much about my younger brothers and no one really understood the love I had for them; they all thought I was crazy and was going to go insane and kill someone…I would never hurt my little brothers, no matter what; I didn't want to see death again, and know that it was my fault once more…

Ridiculed…teased…abused…My whole childhood had been ruined because of my father's death. All I wanted was to see him for Christmas, but he didn't make it home…he had gotten hit by an eighteen wheeler and died on impact. The loss devastated me, as well as my mother. She put the blame on me. All of it was my fault, and I had believed her. She'd come up to me, yelling, screaming, throwing fists at the wall, and shout at me. 'Kaelea Jennifer, it's all your fucking fault! Why did you make your father leave work to come visit us?! You knew he would end up dying, didn't you?! DIDN'T YOU?!'

I…I hadn't known he would die…If I had known…I wouldn't have asked him to come home…

I was ten-years-old and thought I had been the reason I lost my father. Callie told me that I was wrong, and that our father had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was always like that…I could never believe her, no matter how much I wanted to. I was able to pretend I believed her, but every time a hit was administered to me from my mother, I lost the act and couldn't pick it back up. Her words echoed in my head, fighting with Callie's, and I could take all of the yelling and voices. They were driving me crazy! I needed to find an outlet for all this pent up anger…and that's when I turned to slicing up my wrists…

After my father's accident, my mother began drinking, coming home drunk and with a new guy every night for a while. She being my mother, of course. The men would beat me for her while she puked up her insides and turned her stomach inside-out. I was constantly bruised. Everyday I had a new bruise, and everyday Callie asked where I got them. I lied to her about them; told her they were from falling down during school, or that I got into a fight with one of the kid's at school, which I was known for doing…

That was all I was when I was younger: lies. I lied about everything; no matter if I had a reason to or not…Where were the marks on my wrist from? The cat. We didn't have a cat though, so why people believed me, I never understood. The bruises were from what again? The fights I got into with the students; the sports I once played. Why did I have knives and razor blades in my room at eleven? It was so I could protect myself and Callie, as well as our brothers, if the house was ever broken into because I knew our mother probably wouldn't even notice. Why was I home late? I got lost. No, I had never gotten lost; I knew my way around the city, and Callie knew that, but she never questioned what I was doing while I was 'lost'.

I would get home from school everyday, sneak away from Callie and go into our room and grab one of my razor blades, then sneak into the bathroom. I had a towel hidden that I used to clean up the blood if I ever spilt any, as well as peroxide to keep from getting an infection whenever I cut myself. The cuts were always deep, sometimes not deep enough to slice a vein, but sometimes they were. There were times when my sister would find me on the bathroom floor in a puddle of my own blood, passed out and paler than normal. She never told our mother what had happened…only called 911 and had them take me to the hospital…

I loved Callie…I always had and always will; no matter what…She was my best friend. She was the only person I could talk to about anything. She had been the only person until Jonathon Brick came along to know about what went on inside our house and behind the closed bathroom door. I can still hear her screaming at me from behind the door, her fists banging upon it as she tried to get me to stop. 'Kaelea! Please don't do it again! I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore!' Her sobbing would get into my head, and that would be all I could hear…I would try anything to ignore her cries, but sometimes I couldn't, and was only able to hurt myself once rather than the many times I usually did.

All Callie wanted to do was help me, but sometimes she only made things worse for me…She tried to get me to forgive Jonathon, but I could never bring myself to do so. She only wanted the best for me, but the best to her wasn't always the best to me. I was supposed to have stayed living at home rather than on the streets like I had done because all that Cal wanted was to know I was safe and see me in our room every night. I guess I can see where she was coming from all those years…and I wish that I had listened to her then rather than wait until she was gone to do so…

I miss her…I miss her more than anything in the world, and I hate myself for doing what I did to her…

My best friend in the entire world was gone. Just like that, she was dead, and it had been all my fault…I could never, and still can't, forgive myself for what I did to her. It hadn't really been me…but it was; I was never able to control my other personality, and whenever it came out, something bad always happened. I had never imagined it'd be this bad, though. I came to and found the bleeding, pale, and limp body of my twin sister, and best friend in my arms and began sobbing uncontrollably. What was I going to do now that my sister had been killed?! She was all that I looked forward to during the days; she was all I loved in the world, and then she was gone…

I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to die. I ran out of the garage and into the street and stood in the pouring rain, letting the water wash over my body as I tried to get rid of the smell of blood covering me, as well as the image I had just seen. Her throat had been slit open. Her stomach had been covered in scratches; deep scratches that had looked like that had only just stopped bleeding and clotted.

The knife was still in my hand…and the only thing I could think to do was to try and kill myself…I tried and failed. I only resulted in being taken into a neighbor's house and was bandaged up when I woke again.

Callie Anora…I love you…and I'm sorry I hurt you so much when we were together…I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you. I'm sorry that I took your life away from you while you were at the peak of your life, and were almost able to get away from me for however long you wanted…And I'm sorry for not listening to you all those years…I now know that it wasn't my fault father died…and I know that I should never have put all the blame of the beatings I got from mother and her husband on myself…

I love you, Callie.