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The smell of burnt noodles fill the house as I dash down the stairs to check on the meal I’m cooking.
“s**t, s**t, s**t,” I scream to myself. Hearing laughter coming from behind me, I turn around. “What are you laughing at, Kevin?” He laughs harder at my outburst which makes me begin to laugh along with him.
“How could you burn spaghetti noodles?” He giggles going over to the boiling pot of burnt noodles on the stove. He slips on an oven mitt and takes the pot to the sink. Pouring the contents into the sink, he flips on the garbage disposable. He laughs again when he can’t scrape the noodles off the edge of the pot. “Forget this,” he says tossing the pot into the sink and grabbing out another one. He puts some water in it and places it on the stove. Then he looks at the temperature on the stove and laughs again. “Oh my God, Kristy, you’re not supposed to have the stove at 600 degrees! What are you trying to do, burn down the whole house?” He laughs again as he lowers the temperature.
“I’m sorry. I really don’t know how to cook.” I settle myself into a chair at the table to watch my brother make me the meal I was supposed to be making him.
“No kidding,” he laughs. Pouring some noodles into the now boiling water, he reaches in the cabinet for another small pot. “Can you get the sauce for me?” he asks. I go over to the fridge and take out the spaghetti sauce. Handing it to him, I go back and sit down at the table. He pours the sauce into the pot and places it on the stove at medium heat.
“Well this is gone,” he says looking at the sauce jar. Going over to the garbage to throw it away, he stops before throwing it in. He plugs his nose and starts to laugh. “So that is what stunk so badly!” he chuckles.
“What?” I ask confused. I walk over to him and look in the trash. Laughing, I begin to take to the bag out. “That does stink,” I say. He looks closer at it and laughs harder.
“How could you burn Mac and Cheese?” he asks.
“I told you, I don’t know how to cook,” I reply tying the bag and taking it outside to put it in the dumpster. When I come back in, Kevin looks at me.
“Macaroni is not cooking! Anybody can do it!” He says picking a noodle out of the pot. He sticks it in his mouth.
“Hm,” he says, “come try this. I think it needs to be cooked a little bit longer but I’m not sure.” As I walk over to him he stirs the sauce for a second. I place a noodle in my mouth as he takes the sauce off the stove. Pouring it into a bowl, I say, “I think it’s done.” Kevin takes the pot over to the sink and setting it in. He walks back over to me and picks up a noodle.
“Want to bet?” he says taking a noodle out of the pot. I nod my head. He begins to swing his arm in a throwing motion.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“I’m testing to see if it is done or not” he states.
“You are totally insane!” I exclaim.
“Am I? Loser does dishes.” With that he throws the noodle against the wall. It sticks for a second but then slowly begins to slide down. Kevin turns and smiles at me.
“Told you so!” He screams and then begins to do a little victory dance. He twirls around a few times before going on the ground to do the worm. I turn off the heat on the stove and watch my brother make a fool of himself. After about five minutes, I get tired of watching him doing the moon walk and wiggling his butt, so I pick up a handful of noodles and chuck it at him. He freezes in place. Turning to face me he asks, “What was that for?”
“You were being an idiot. It was hurting my eyes; I needed it to stop.” I laugh. He still has a stunned look on his face when he goes over to the sauce and takes some out. He then walks over to me and flicks it in my face.
“Hey!” I cry, but I’m already reaching into the pot for more noodles to throw at him.

After a long, messy food fight, we’re lying on our backs laughing. After we calm down a little, Kevin turns to me.
“Kris, why did you do it?” The smile is wiped from his face and he stares at me so intently. I look at him questioningly.
“Do what?” I ask keeping my eyes on the ceiling.
“Yell at yourself. Try to kill yourself,” he replies. A single tear rests right under his eye.
“I don’t know, Kevin. I truly do not know.” He begins to cry really hard.
“Why would you do that? Don’t you love me?” He sobs. I rest on elbow to look at him.
“Of course I love you…” I begin. His eyes fill with anger.
“Then why would you try to make me lose the last family member that I have!” He screams. “Dad is gone; Mom is so ******** depressed! You were always so strong; why are you becoming weak now?” He loses his energy and puts his head back on the ground, closing his eyes.
“Dad is back,” I say softly, stunned by his outburst.
“He’s back?” Kevin whispers.
“Yes, he’s back,” I grumble, getting up to clean up the spaghetti.

“Shhh,” she whispers, “everything will be alright.” She is comforting me as she leads me down to the one place where she’s never been before, hell. She knows as well as I do that from now on all I will be doing is suffering.
“Goodbye, Kristy,” she mutters and then disappears. I drown in the hot flames of God’s hatred.

I wake up, startled and sweating. Why was she in my dream? I glance at the clock. The red numbers glow in the darkness: 12:55. I slowly get out of bed and walk to the bathroom. Down the hall I can hear Kevin snoring. I wash my face and brush my teeth then go back to my room. I settle myself into my desk chair, starting up my computer and bringing up the internet. I log in and reply to the last message that Isabella sent me.
“How are you today?” I type, totally ignoring the yes. After clicking send, I sit back in my chair and wait. A few minutes later, her reply flashes before me.
“Today has only started, but I’m still wonderful. How are you?” she says. I glance at the clock again: 1:04.
“I’m okay, a little tired. I wonder how my mother is doing,” I reply to her. After I click send, I realize the truth behind the words I said. I do wonder how my mother is feeling, and a part of me is hoping that she feeling well.
“What happened to her?” Isabella asks. I totally ignore the fact that she already knows what happened to my mother. I want to talk to someone—I need to talk to someone—about what has happened in the last few days. I can’t deal with this alone anymore. I tried before, and my neck proves how well that worked out.
“She, my mother, was really depressed. You see, my father left after throwing a lamp at her. Everything just kind of built up, and she took a knife to her wrist. The cut was so deep that she almost bled herself to death,” I reply. A few tears escape my eyes as I click send. Exiting out, I get up and crawl back into bed. I pull the covers tightly around myself and sob softly into my pillow. Moments later, I fall asleep.

“Kristy, wake up! Kristy!” I open my eyes and roll around in bed. Kevin is standing over me with a grin on his face, but his eyes are sad.
“Good morning, Kevin,” I say. I get out of bed and give him a hug. He pushes me away.
“Hurry, get dressed! The hospital called.” The hospital? Is Mom finally better? “They said that Mom is well enough to come home now. That is if we can get a ride to bring her home. She can’t walk on her own yet because of all of the blood she lost. She needs a lot of sleep which will mean that we’re stuck doing the house work and taking care of her, but it will feel so good to have her home again!” He explains. The smile on his face grows larger.
“That’s great,” I say, forcing a smile on my face. He runs up to me and wraps his arms around me really tight.
“How will we get her home though?” He asks after a few minutes. The smile from his face has vanished, and he looks up at me will his big eyes.
“We’ll find a way,” I reply, ruffling his hair. I let go of him and hold him out at arm’s length, so I can look at him. “But first you need to take a shower, so you’re presentable. You don’t want Mom to think you’ve been sitting around all day doing nothing. I’ll pick up the house while you’re doing that.” He hugs me again and offers a nod of thanks before going off to the bathroom. Walking to my computer, I pick up the laundry on the way. I drop the laundry in a basket and sit down at my desk. Signing into my account, I organize the items on my desk. A new message appears in my inbox.
“That’s horrible. I hope she okay!” exclaims Isabella. I laugh to myself. Why would anyone hope that she’s okay? She hurt us, Kevin and I, like no one has ever hurt us before. She’s the reason for my attempt. The pain she caused is indescribable.
“She’s fine. The doctor said she’s coming home today. My brother is really excited,” I type back. Moments later another message appears.
“But are you excited?” She asks. No, I automatically think. Yes? My mind ponders the though a moment. She hurts us; no, she hurt us. She loves us, or did she use to love us? I don’t know. How could someone that loves you try to leave you with no one? She left Kevin with you. Yeah, I know she left Kevin, but I would have to look after him if she were gone, so really she left me for Kevin. Kevin loves you. She left you love from your brother.
“I know I’m supposed to be excited,” I finally reply to her. The water in the bathroom shuts off. I quickly get up, turning off my monitor. I run downstairs and pick up everything I can find laying on the ground and stuff it the closet. Grabbing the phone, I begin to look in the phone book for a taxi. After finding one, I dial it and sit down at the counter.
“Ta-Ta-Taxis, Asher speaking, what can I do for you?” A man on the other line answers.
“Uh my mother is just getting out of the hospital today, and she can’t drive. There is no other way for us to pick her up, so I was wondering if you could send a taxi to the hospital to pick her up,” I reply as Kevin walks down to the kitchen rubbing his hair with a towel.
“Sure, we can! What is her name, ma’am?”
“Ruby Waters, I’ll call the hospital, so they know it’s okay,” I reply.
“That sounds great; we’ll have a taxi there in about fifteen minutes to go pick her up. Have a nice day,” the man says cheerfully.
“You too. Goodbye.” I hang up the phone and look at Kevin. “There’s a taxi on the way to pick Mom up, and they’ll bring her here. We might as well cook her breakfast while we wait.”
“I’ll cook her breakfast; you go take a shower. Oh, and remember to call the hospital,” he says to me. I nod in agreement and get up. I call the hospital quickly and then walk upstairs. I go into the bathroom and strip from my clothes. Starting the water, I get in. First there’s a blast of cold icicles hitting my back, and then, as the water warms up, it is replaced by the warmth of a blanket. I run a hand through my hair that is just beginning to get wet. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back. I blindly reach for the soap and run it over my legs. Then, I carefully take my razor and follow the soap lines. Rinsing off my legs, I pick the soap back up and run it over my breasts and my arms, feeling the ache in my muscles.
“Kristy! The taxi just pulled up!” Kevin screams, interrupting my calming hair washing.
I wipe some shampoo out of my eyes and scream, “Okay Kev, I’ll be right down!” I quickly rinse my hair and wrap the towel around my bruised body. I run my brush through my hair, and then dash to my room. Quickly, I put on a pair of clean jeans and a TWLOHA t-shirt. I look at myself in the mirror, and my reflection stares back. There are circles around my eyes and my neck is red and puffy. I decide to pull on a sweatshirt before heading downstairs. Then, I walk slowly down the steps and hear Kevin scream the word mom and footsteps on the tile. Finally, I get myself down the steps and through the hall.
“Welcome home, Mom,” I say as cheerfully as I can. She’s sitting at the table, her head cocked to one side, her eyes droopy. She tries to open them wider and lift up her arm.
“Kristy, my baby, come here. My, how you’ve changed,” she whispered barely audible. I go to sit in the chair by her.
“It’s only been two weeks, Mom,” I say back to her. My voice cracks, which I was not expecting. I take her small hand in mine; it’s ice cold.
“You’ve gotten taller, tanner,” she manages to get out. Tears stream down my face.
“No Mom, you’ve just gotten smaller and paler.” A smile appears on her face.
“I guess that’s what trying to kill yourself does to your body.” Her tone is sad, yet it’s trying so hard to be happy. I lean forward and hug her tiny body. Little does she know how much I know about what trying to kill yourself does.
“Mom, we made you breakfast!” Kevin says after a while. Mom turns to him and smiles. She rests her hand on his.
“Thank you, baby, but I think I just need some rest.”
“Oh, okay. Kristy, will you help me get her up to bed,” he says sadly. I nod and stand up, helping my mother to her feet. Her head leans against my shoulder as Kevin goes around to her other side. We walk silently to the stairs. When we reach there, I lean down and pick my mother up, carrying her as if she were my child and not the other way around. Reaching the top of the stairs, I turn right to go to her room. I lay her down in her bed and pull the covers tightly around her. Kissing her forehead, I leave the room. Then, I walk to my room and sit down in my desk chair. Opening up my new message from Isabella, I turn on my desk lamp. The message has three words in it, but are you?
“She’s so small and cold and light. My mom did kill herself, and this thing that came back from the hospital, she’s nothing like her,” I type slowly. I read over my words and then click send before I can change my mind. I bring up the calendar on my computer. It’s Saturday September the 28th, 10:23 a.m. I’ve wasted the last two weeks on worrying and taking care of my brother. I need to get away, away from of this. A message appears in my inbox. I click it.
“What is your mom like?” Isabella asks. I’ve never really thought about it before. My mom was just there. I didn’t pay much attention to her, and she didn’t pay much attention to me. We really never truly knew each other, but I do know some things about her.
“My mom, she used to be strong. She was the strongest thing I’ve ever met, kept this household running; she always made sure there was food on the table and our clothes were washed. She was like a supermom,” I reply. After clicking send, I turn off my computer and run downstairs. At the kitchen table sat my brother.
“Hey Kev, I think I’m going to go out,” I say strong at first then trailing off at the end when I notice his face. “What’s wrong?” I ask him, going to sit by him.
“Nothing. Would you like to eat with me?” He asks, cheering up a little bit. I look around the kitchen. On the counter sat a pile of pancakes on a plate and some sausages to the side. I smile.
“Of course I will,” I say going over to get the food. I grab two plates out of the cabinet and two forks out of the drawer. Then I go to the refrigerator and grab out the syrup and bring it all over to him. I walk back to the counter and grab the food and set it in the middle of the table. Sitting down next to him, I wait till he takes a pancake off the stack and sets it on his plate. Right before he begins to cut it up, I jump out of my chair.
“You need butter!” I practically scream, remembering that Kevin always puts butter on his pancake. He says it tastes better that way. In my opinion, it tastes gross. He smiles at me as I reach into the refrigerator and grab out a tub of butter. Then, I grab a butter knife and bring it over to him.
“Here you go,” I say setting it in front of him and sitting down. He whispers the word thanks and begins to smear the butter on his pancake. I grab one off of the stack and cut it up. Pouring the syrup on, my stomach grumbles. Kevin looks at me, and I can tell that he is trying his hardest not to laugh. Then, my stomach grumbles again, and he bursts out laughing. I laugh with him and shove some pancake in my mouth.
“Hopefully that’ll make the monster shut up,” he laughs. I take another bite. For the next couple of minutes, we sit there in silence eating. When he reaches for a sausage, I copy his move.
“You thirsty?” I ask him putting the sausage on my plate. He nods, and I get up to go get two glasses of orange juice. I return with the glasses and a loaf of bread.
“What’s the bread for?” He asks. I look at him confused.
“My sausage…” I say. I sit down and take out a piece of bread. Pulling off the crust, I pick up the sausage and set it in the middle of it. Then I roll it up, as if it were a taco. He watches my every move. I take a bit bite of my bready sausage and smile.
“I’ve never seen that before,” he finally confirms. I take another bite.
“You should try it; it’s good!” I beam. He just rolls his eyes and laughs. Picking up his plate, he takes it to the dishwasher.

After breakfast, I go up to my room and grab the laundry basket that I filled earlier. I walk back downstairs and throw the clothes in the washer. Measuring out the detergent, I yell for Kevin to bring his clothes down also. He comes running down a few seconds later with a basket full of clothes. Smiling he hands them to me and walks away. I throw them in with my clothes and pour the detergent in. Turning the dial, I close the lid and press start. Then, I run upstairs to my room and log back onto my computer. I open up my new message.
“She’ll get her strength back eventually,” Isabella says. Yeah, eventually, but eventually isn’t quick enough.
“I sure hope so,” I reply. I lean back in my chair and bite my lower lip fighting the urge to cry. A tingle of blood drops off of my lip and the sadness is replaced with something else. What that something else is, I can’t be sure, but it feels almost good, almost pleasurable. How can a feeling this sensational occur just from a bite to the lip?
“You have one new message!” My computer beams. I lean forward in my chair and click the flashing words on my screen.
“Yes, I do too,” she says. I click reply and sit there with my fingers on home-row waiting for the words to just come to me, but I’m at a dead end. She took this conversation and ran into a ditch with no way to get out. I’m stuck, and now I have to switch the conversation to something else which I’m not so sure I can do. There is always the choice of just stop talking to her, but could I do that? It only takes me a few seconds to realize that I want to know more about God, and she’s the only one who can teach me about him.
“Isabella, will you tell me more about God?” I ask and sit back for a reply. It only takes her a few minutes to type a whole paragraph explaining about baby Jesus and Virgin Mary and other miraculous things God can do. After reading through it, I click reply.
“That’s amazing! How can one person do all that?” I ask. Within a few seconds a reply enters my inbox.
“Technically God isn’t a person. He doesn’t need the essentials a human being needs to survive like food and air and water, but he does have feelings. Every time one of us, his children, sin, it hurts him dearly. It’s like how your mother would feel if she knew what you did to yourself because of her,” Isabella replies. At the last part of this, anger fills my body, and I click reply.
“My mother would not feel any kind of emotion toward what I did, and I don’t either. Wait, I take that back. I feel anger, but that’s only because I didn’t succeed. I failed because of you, and I don’t like to be a failure,” I type angrily. I click send and shut of my computer. I will not let some Nebraska b***h telling me what kind of emotions my mother will have because of me. I did not do anything wrong. Isabella was the one to butt into my life when I specifically told her to stay out!
Right then the washer beeped, bringing me out of my rage. I go downstairs and put the wet clothes in the dryer. In the living room, I can hear the TV blasting some comedy show. After starting the dryer, I go into the room and sit next to my brother on the couch.
“Hey Kevin,” I say almost in a whisper. He looks at me.
“Hi,” he says sleepily.
“What are you watching?” I ask cuddling up to the arm of the couch.
“Saved by the Bell,” he replies chuckling at something that happened on the screen.
“That’s cool. Do you mind if I watch with you?” I ask him.
“No, I don’t mind,” he replies.
“Can you pass me that blanket?” I ask him, shivering. He picks it up; eyes still glued on the screen, he passes it over to me.
“Thanks,” I murmur, pulling the blanket over me and closing my eyes. Listening to my brothers giggles at the old television show, I slowly begin to fall asleep.