Suicide Sunday - oo1 (go back »)

The hospital lights were blinding. The cleanliness of the floor made me angry. Everything made me angry at this point. Papa rushed ahead of me, pulling on my hand. "Come on, come on," he would mutter every once in awhile. A nurse stopped us and whispered very long words to Papa. I tugged on his shirt. "Papa? What's she talking about?" He shushed me and continued to nod to the nurse. I sighed and looked around. Noticing that Papa was preoccupied, I decided to take a look around. I poked my head in the nearest room. A frail old man was lying on a bed, his face turned towards me. His lips began to part, as if he would say something, but then they fell and he gave up. I exited and tried the next room. A familiar face greeted me this time, one I had seen every day of my young life. "Rudy?" I whispered. I hurried to my brother's bed. His eyes were closed, and tubes were stuck in every entryway to his insides. I shook his arm. "Rudy!" I said louder. His eyelids fluttered, and he coughed. "R-rudy? Whatsamatter with you?" I asked. It was then that he started to cry. "I failed, I failed, I failed..." he said over and over again. I was confused. What did he fail? We didn't have any school today. It was Sunday! "Rudy, what did you fail?" I quizzed. But Rudy had given up. He was just staring at the ceiling, his mouth hanging open. I reached over and closed it for him. "You don't want flies in there..." I whispered. "Nicky!" I whirled at my father's voice. "You aren't supposed to be in here! I thought I told you to..." he stopped as his eyes reached Rudy. His mouth opened and closed, like a fish. "Nicky...let's...we have to...we're leaving, Nicky." And just like that, he left. No word of goodbye to his only son, no "I love you"s, none of the standard "Get well soon"s. Just a sigh and an empty doorway.
That was the first time my brother tried to kill himself.
But it wouldn't be the last.

In Suicide Sunday(work in progress)