//* Publishing as you go apparently gives you some very strange breaks. So the top part here probably should be part of Chapter 12, but oh well! Lalala~ Enjoy!

Before my sluggish mind can realize that something's happening, my mom has already dialed 9-1-1 and an ambulance is on its way over. I give one more disgusted look at my mother, who doesn't notice, and my father, who is still lying on the floor, before I run up to my room and silently scream into my pillow.

I can hear the alarms ringing as the ambulance approaches the house and the heavy silence that hangs within the air. But I don't care. I only twist and turn beneath my blanket as wheels turn and a gurney rolls its way into and out of my house. I hear my mom's screams and her whimpers, the whispers of the nurses and doctors. I still don't move as the ambulance screams away and my mother screams after it, pleading them to take her with them. I bury my face into my pillow, eager for the night to swallow the day and bring me away from the hell of my life.

***

Some days after my dad had been taken to the hospital, my mom disappeared from the house. Her spot before the television stayed vacant, and I didn't care. When I walk home from the hospital, I don't expect her there anymore. She's probably at my dad's side day and night, crying her eyes out. For all I care, she can stay out of the house. I don't need her at my side to do nothing, and my dad can stay at that hospital forever.

Compared to my days of always getting hit and abused, this life should be like heaven. But somehow, everything, before empty, feels even more vacant. Everything is quiet and unnatural, an air of eeriness that refuses to go away. This feels even scarier than before, when the screams and hits were simply a nuisance. Even though this should be a paradise, I find myself wishing for the old days back. No, I tell myself. How could you possibly miss those days? They are terrible parents, treating you with hate and scorn. Why would you want them back?

I don't know. I don't know anything about anything anymore.

I don't know anything.

I bury myself into my bedding and begin to cry. My father's words come back to me: just go up to your room right now and you can cry again and I think we'll just throw you out of the house next time. But I don't care about that anymore. I just cry more and more, tears coming fast and soaking the blanket. How did it end up like this? How did it end up being me alone in the house, reduced to tears and crying out for the people who got me to this point? How, how, how? I cry out, not wanting to admit that I'm really at this terrible a state. Who was it that made this world such a terrible one? I'm angry, God. Why would You reduce people to such a state? Why would You keep suffering in this world? And why, why, why would You ever give so much of it to a single person?

My anger, I think, is the only thing that keeps me sane. If I was given nothing but sadness, I think that I would collapse under all the pressure of the suffering. My thought go back to Rin, my sole comfort nowadays. I remember her face before, full of life and happiness. I don't think I would need anything if only you were in my life, Rin. If you were here, I would do anything to protect you. Anything to make sure that this never happened again. Rin, this is hell. There's nothing else to describe it with. It is hell. It is day in, day out suffering without you. My throat clogs up with a mixture of love and comfort as well as need as I ask her, please, wake up soon.

***

Weeks pass as my condition keep going down. I go to school, often late, and I don't realize what things are happening around me. I don't participate, and my teachers all give me incompletes on my grade book and exempt me from what they can because they don't want to see me fall. Although I know that I should be thankful for their generosity, I can't help but hate everyone around me for being happy when I'm the only one that's suffering from the immense amount of hate that I am harboring. So I do what I can, keep the teachers as happy as I can, and go through each day without thinking about the fact that I have to keep myself going.

For the first time ever, I miss one day of going to the hospital. I don't know why, but my legs don't carry me to the hospital. Instead I walk straight home. My clouded mind doesn't notice until I am at the front door. Resigned to my fate, I let out a sigh and step through the door. Before me stands my red, teary-eyed mother, and I almost fall to my knees from the surprise. I had become used to the isolation I had when I was in my house, so for another person to be there was almost unthinkable.

I take in a breath. "What do you want?" Even though I know that that's a rude way to greet my own mother, there's no way that she'd stand here for a good amount of time, waiting for me, if she didn't want anything.

She draws in her own breath in preparation of what I expect to be something stupid when the words spill out: "I want to talk to you."