"Amson..." Lore muttered, her weak expression trained onto me.
I looked into her eyes and she in mine. Something about that look... it haunted me. I didn't like the look, especially on Lorelai, but that could wait; I had different questions. Today, was the day, the day I'm finally recognized as an adult, but for some reason, mom and dad were nowhere to be found. They should have arrived today.
"Happy Birthday, Am." She said with that weak, breathless tone. "You're up late."
I looked around, subsequently bringing her attention to our surroundings. She was curious, and justifiably so; I hadn't said a word yet. Still, I found little use responding to the kind gesture, my mind stuck on the absence of our parents.
"Where's Mom and Dad?" I asked. "They should've arrived by now."
Lore approached me.
"You didn't see?" She added to the pool of questions. "They got the promotion they were looking for but have to stick around doing paperwork, Mom says."
"Oh..." I finally took notice of Lore's attire. "That's... great."
She had nothing but lingerie on, black, see-through cloth that couldn't double as clothing. She walked around as... freely as she always did, but all the same, that change in air about her was off-putting. Though she did something so bold that she had to be herself, she wasn't.
My sister never sulked like this, at least it seemed like a sort of somber aura. She wasn't right; something had happened to her to make her this way.
She just wasn't that type of person unless something was truly bothering her.
"Did you need help?" I asked considerately.
"Help?" She sounded estranged by the question. "Help with what?"
"Help with this mess. Seems like you've had your hands full for a while."
"Oh... Yeah, I'd like that."
I picked up a small piece of trash, and Lore followed suit, the conversation disappearing as a result. Though I never imagined cleaning up the remnants of a party on my birthday, it wasn't all bad. I wouldn't be able to indulge in any of the usual birthday pleasantries without mom or dad's presence, anyway, and it was a little calming, for my mind I mean. It allowed me to think, formulate my thoughts before they escaped me.
Lorelai, as outgoing an emotional mess she is, wasn't one to show such a weakness, especially to me. I'd known since I was born how protective she was of me, no matter whether I was in the wrong or right. I resented her for entangling herself into my troubles, but I could never expect her not to, having the knowledge I do now.
She was obnoxious and, oftentimes, overbearing, but she was very careful with her image toward me. Still, she could care less if I thought her annoying, but that's something I loved about her, whether I liked to think so or not. Seeing her like that, visibly sad, was something that brought a rise out of me, made me angry through my very core.
What had happened to her, and who did it?
I noticed she kept her distance from me when, usually, it was hard getting her away from me. If there was a definition for a red flag, there it was, yet, I couldn't bring myself to ask her why; something within my mind told me not to.
Around the room we went, until it was nigh-spotless. Just one last piece. I wiped the sweat from my brow, leaning under the couch in search for anything trying to hide from us, but once I raised them, I met my own reflection.
A small, insignificant shard of glass was under the couch's surface, and I stared myself in the eyes through that dim, brown light. That wasn't any regular bottle; it was pigmented glass, the type they use for alcohol. My heart sank, and I backed away from the couch slowly, a single phrase jogging my memory.
'She couldn't have known.' My eyes darted to Lorelai. 'She couldn't have known.'
That, the perfect reasoning for her dejected expression. She couldn't have known; she'd caused this-- this rapid tearing of my mind. I thought everything was normal, but it couldn't be more crooked-- more sullied with lies upon lies.
She couldn't have known the damage she'd caused. She loved me; I knew she did, but looking at her now... I felt estranged to that person. She wasn't Lorelai; that was some imposter-- it had to be.
I looked away from her as she cleaned, careful not to show the change in my state of mind. Finally, my eyes were opened, opened to the harrowing truth. My body was dirty, violated by that woman and uninhabitable. I had to clean the smudges to our family name, I couldn't leave the real Lorelai with the burden of cleaning the mess upon my soul.
I began to climb the stairs, but she stopped me, that temptress speaking in her stead. She wanted me back, but I knew the truth behind that thing. It would never fool me for my older sister.
"Amson?" She called from afar. "W-Where are you going?"
"Just to use the bathroom." I said, a smile on my face. "I'll be back; promise."
I needed out, and no one could follow me where I needed to go, especially not my sister. It was best she remain ignorant of my intentions, whether the real Lorelai or not.
I reached the top and, from there, my mother and father's master bedroom. The door hinge creaked, and as I went inside, I closed the door shut, locking it as the weight of my sins pulled me toward that space. It was this space that I'd tried to forget, not because of any fault of by parents but the knowledge I had of what was held within it's confines.
A 9mm handgun, just powerful enough to release me from this suffering, was right inside that drawer, open for use. Just thinking of that bitch, Nicky, made my fingers move, imagining the feel of the trigger. It would be short-lived practice, for once in effect it would be an instantaneous rescue.
I opened the drawer, and there it was, the pretty thing. I grabbed, it, and feeling it in my hands, I felt much too comfortable.
All these faces, these alter egos, they were all a front to try to remove myself from who I really was, a greedy, selfish, bastard bitch-boy. I'm sure, with all the time I've spent being someone other than myself, my "friends" wouldn't recognize this me. The look in my eyes, the determination, the air... It was all something I'd channeled, though much differently than now.
I knew I had to die to release not only myself but others from me. I was not everyone; I was not no one. I was Amson and nothing but myself. Once I'd pulled that trigger, that would remain and my ego along with it, only silenced, unable to hurt anyone anymore. I took a deep breath as I looked at my reflection through it's shine, but I could never get used to looking at that person.
Yet, I couldn't say he was anything other than myself. I would be stuck with this, even after I pulled that trigger. I was only running away, using that bullet as an excuse to shut up the discord within my mind. Maybe then, I would be pieced together, and whether by God or Satan, it didn't matter; I was going to be free.
However, I would not go out with an audience.
I pointed my gun at the wall, that same goddamned roach that'd never leave me alone. I trained my focus on it, finger on the trigger as it scurried along the wall. Eventually, it left my sight, and I relaxed, finally coming to terms with what I'd actually intended to do.
I didn't want to die, but I'd had enough of this mess we call life. I wanted out; I never wanted in, but I didn't want to die. It was just so painful being myself, and with everything crumbling around me, it didn't matter the pain caused to others. To the end, I would always be this selfish, so why not end that, free everyone of the trouble I would have caused anyways.
My death might be inconvenient, but in the end, it would be beneficial.
My only regrets might be leaving my family. Lore... She knew, and I knew she knew from the start. I just didn't want to accept that fact, the fact that my sister, whether directly or indirectly, allowed something like that to happen to me. It wasn't worth blowing up at her; I would be gone soon enough. I gripped the gun tighter, content with this scene, the setting of my release.
'Finally, I'll be free of this broken shell.' I thought, pulling the trigger to my brain.