Part 5: Crossing Paths With the Devil

I have always wanted a sibling.  When I was a little kid, I wanted a sibling for no other reason than to have someone to play with.  Then when I was a little older, I wanted a sibling to confide in, especially during those times when my parents argued and I didn’t know what to do about it.

As an only child, there was no one else at home for me to turn to and I often felt alone.   Not only did my parents yell at each other, they often yelled at me too.  I was forced to find ways to console myself, but rarely did it ever work.  There were many years that were filled with tears, though only my room ever saw them.  Slowly, my world began to close in on itself.  Sometimes I wonder if perhaps I had a sibling, I may never have encountered the devil.

It was half past four in the afternoon on a gloomy Sunday.  I was about 12 years old.  My mother was vacuuming in the living room after another argument with my father.  He had slammed the door on his way out, while she took out her anger by purposely banging on everything.  Those noises had become very familiar, and the more frequent they occurred the more irritated I became each time I heard them.  On that day, I recall a feeling as though something came over me when I heard those noises again.  My mother screamed at me over something I can no longer remember.  What I do remember, though, is how I felt at the time.

After running into my room and slamming the door shut, I climbed into bed and sat with my back against the wall.  Tears streamed down my face as a series of thoughts went through my head.  I felt alone and angry.  Angry that I was alive.  Why did my parents give me this life and put me in this world only to torture me, I asked myself.  Why couldn’t I just be happy like all the other kids I knew?  Why was each day so hard to get through?

As I aimlessly looked around my room, my eyes fell upon the sparkly red scarf at the end of my bed.  I hated that scarf because it made my neck itchy every time I wore it.  But on that day it didn’t matter.  I took the scarf and wrapped it around my neck twice.  Then I yanked on it as hard as I could.

That was the first time I thought about killing myself.

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