As I hear stumbling down the hall I am awoken from my sleep. Groggy eyed and confused I strain to listen to muffled words in the dark. Muffled voices getting louder. I slide off my bed and cower as a tear in the fabric of our home is coming. "Did you do the other one?" Other what? What is he talking about?
Phone being dialed. Buttons clicking. Waiting. "I need an ambulance. My wife has slit her wrists."
Groggy eyes instantly fade away. I am now alert.
My father yells for my older sister. Again. I jump up and yell that I will go get her. Running out of my room into the hall I see it. Blood. It's everywhere. I run as I dodge touching any of it. I barrel into my sisters room speaking in another language to her. Panicked. She only makes out a few choice words.
My sister calls my grandparents to come get us. Waiting outside in the summer air. Dark but somehow cold. Two vehicles come up the street. An ambulance. My grandparent's car.
Sometimes I am perpetually 15 years old with this fear of the dark burned into my soul.
Wounds that healed, that I thought were healed, are reopened. It's time these demons are finally put to rest.