My story part 3

“Just go away!” I yelled back. “If dad was here this would have never happened at least I would be happy” saying this set something off in my mother that I have never seen before.
She replied pounding the door, “You are a mistake! I wish you were never born Vanessa, you hear me? I wish you were dead, I hate you!”
Who knew that you could get your heart broken in just a few simple words? The words “I hate you” rang into my head as furry and sadness filled my heart. “She hates me.” I whispered to myself as I heard my mothers foot steps leave my door and enter the bathroom. “She actually hates me.” I said a little louder noticing something shining on my dresser. As I walked over to my dresser I slowly realized that I hated her too, no child should be treated like hell from the one person expected to be there for them the most. As I got to my dresser I realized what had been shining, a knife. As I stood there staring at the knife I slowly felt my hurt and sadness swell up. I slowly reached for the knife and started to shake. Ignoring my nerves I picked up the knife and sat on my bed. Harshly I started slicing my wrists more and more until my pain was completely dissolved. I sat there bleeding and slicing away at my pain and anguish. My blanket starting to get covered it my own blood I felt weak. It was about 3 in the morning now, and I could still feel the pain as I started another gash in my arm I suddenly realized that it wasn’t helping, I needed something else to calm myself and to cease this pain that my mother had caused. As I stood up I heard a My mother.
“Do you want to know the truth?” I soon realized that my mother was leaning against the outside of my door.
“Yes mom I want to know the truth.” I said leaning against the other side of my door and slowly sliding down to the point where I was sitting on the floor.
“I killed him.” My mother whispered as she started to cry.
“What?” I asked not believing my ears.
“You heard me, I killed him.” I started to cry. “We were having an argument and I couldn’t take it anymore so I hit him with a hammer and smashed him against the wall.”
I stood up angry as ever! I started throwing things off my shelves and hitting the walls. I was in my own little world and nothing was going to stop me! I was pissed. I leaped onto my bed and hit the wall above my dash board. As I pulled my hand out of the wall I noticed that there has blood all over it, but it wasn’t from my hand it was from something else. I looked inside the wall and there he was, my dad. I screamed not knowing what to do and not knowing what to say. I ran out of my bedroom only to find my mother lying on the ground with a needle in her arm. I immediately called the cops, they said they would be on there way. I hung up the phone and sat on my couch.
There I was a fragile girl of sixteen with red and blue lights flashing in my eyes watching the cops carry my parents off in body bags.