(For Skalya )

2010 was the worst year of my life.

I remember sitting outside of a hospital room, emotion clutching my throat. It was late- around 11pm, but father and I were as restless as hell.

My mother was dying of lung cancer. The doctors didn't think she'd make it through the night, so they called us over. I was terribly worried... And every ten to twenty minutes, I'd tear up or sob.

"Ivy," father called, stepping outside of the room, "you're allowed to come in now." His voice was shaky and his eyes were clouded. I followed him in slowly, afraid to see what was going on. But mother still looked the same. Her eyes were still open, she was bald, and had very pale skin. Her lips were nearly grey... I still remember her dying face. But her eyes were still very bright.

I ran over to her bed in tears. Father and I bent over to give mother hugs and kisses, because we knew she'd die any minute. Her body was failing, and was shutting down. There was nothing we could do about it.

"Let's talk." I sniffed, wiping my tears. Father nodded in agreement, and so did mother. "Ivy, I wanted to give you a gift for your birthday. It's in three weeks, right?" Mother murmured. I nodded slowly, and started to cry again. I knew that mother wouldn't be there for my eleventh birthday, but to know that she had a present for me felt heart-warming.

Mother's shaky hand reached for a gift on a bed table beside her, and slowly passed it to me. I took it, and looked at it for a couple of seconds. Too many seconds.

"Shayne!" Father said. I looked over to him, and I remember him trembling, staring at mother in shock. I looked back at her and noticed that mother's head was freakishly motionless, and was resting on a pillow. Her bright green eyes were dull, and her hands were no longer shaking. "Mother!" I cried out. The doctors rushed over almost immediately, and checked for a pulse.

"There's nothing," one of the doctors breathed, "she's gone..."

I remember those words... They echoed in my mind. I can still remember father picking me up in shocked silence and placing me outside of the room. As soon as he slammed the door, I heard the worst, most hysterical sob in my life. I went hysterical too, laying on the ground, my head in my hands. My nose was running and tears trickled down my cheeks at the same time.

Others passed me and wondered if I was having a tantrum. But it only took a couple of seconds before they realized that mother was gone, after hearing father's cries. "She's gone! She's dead! Mother!" I shouted repeatedly.

Ever since, I've lost friends because they thought I wanted attention. And the attention I got...

Many times they've spat on me and called me cruel names for their own pleasure. I told my teacher, but she didn't try and do anything to solve it. It's ridiculous.

And then they started shoving me around, tripping me and throwing my assignments away, so I would t be able to hand in my homework. I know that life isn't going to get better.

Life at home isn't better either. Father hardly speaks to me, and doesn't usually notice me. I cook meals, pay the bills from his bank account and turn the lights off at night but still... Nothing... Just like the doctor said when mother had died. The only time I hear him speak is when he's saying mother's name repeatedly or when he's cheering for a team when watching a football game.

But as I sit in my room now, I realize that I've waited five years for life to brighten up again. But life has only gotten worse.

I keep a knife in my room when I have the urge to slash my wrists. But now, I must use it for a better use.

A feeling is brewing inside of me. I'm starting to feel emotion clutching my throat again. Tears trickling down my cheeks... The same sadness I felt outside of the hospital room. Because I know what I'm going to do.

I turn to my bedroom window and look at the star-filled sky. I close my eyes and pray, "I pray that tonight, I shall meet my mother again. I am grateful for the happiness she gave me years ago, but now, I'm eager to seek the same happiness once more... Amen." I sigh and reach for the knife.

I'm scared, but I'm also strangely calm. I point the blade's tip at my stomach, holding the knife with both hands...

I'm coming home, mother.

(Heh I feel like this was a mistake... Oh well?)