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by Kelsie
Rated: E · Fiction · Death · #1564391
I short story I had to write for class. First story ever finished
My name is Nessie Kloscigg, and I am 14 years old. I was born in Chicago, IL on June 6, 1994. I have short brown hair and eyes that change color according to how I do my make-up or by what shirt I wear. They go from an ugly muddy brown to a nice shade of green. I am 5 foot 2.
I am in the 9th grade at the Jerseyville High School. I make average grades. I’m getting Bs in Language Arts, Lit., Science, Social, and French. A C in Math, and I’m getting a D in P.E.
My family consists of my father, and my twin, Colin. My mom was killed when Colin and I were 10. She was killed by a stray bullet when we still lived in Chicago. We moved here to Jerseyville a year after her death. Dad couldn’t stand living in ‘her’ house.
Coli (Colin’s nick-name), has some major anger issues because of Mom’s death. He was closer to her than I was. He’s an artsy guy, his poems and songs used to be bright, funny, and happy. But since Mom died they’ve all been about death. He’s tried to kill himself many times. Lately he’s been cutting his arms. But, Dad doesn’t see it. Dad thinks Coli’s fine… Dad doesn’t notice anything that goes on here; he works too hard to see it. Coli looks a lot like Mom did. He is about 6 foot one. And he has Mom’s pich black hair, and her mossy green eyes. But you can never really see his right eye; he covers it with his hair. It’s his way to hide from the world.
My dad is tall and has long brown hair that reaches the middle of his back. Coli and I never really see Dad. He works nights and that means he leaves at 5 P.M. and gets home at 5 A.M. We haven’t had supper together for three years. He sleeps all day, and is getting ready for work when we get home from school. He misses out on so much.
The only time Coli and I get to see him is if we wake up early, but I’m the only one that does that. Coli thinks it’s Dad’s fault Mom is dead. The only time he actually talks to Dad is if he needs money or permission slips signed.
Coli use to be very social. He had friends… But he’s been hiding behind his curtain of hair. People use to try to talk to him, but he ignored them, so now they ridicule us, then he fights back. He’s a very good fighter because he’s had to be. People stay away now.
Sometimes I know what Coli is thinking. His depression has been getting worse and worse with every week. Every week he cuts deeper, and he gets weaker. Dad still doesn’t notice. I might just speak up tomorrow morning.


It’s morning. Coli is up before me, actually, it was Colin’s screaming that woke me. He was cussing at Dad again. I ran and pulled him away from Dad. I see the newest cuts. They’re very deep. I look around as I try to calm Coli; I see bloody towels from the nights cutting. Coli made a mistake; he left the towels where Dad would find them. Dad sees everything he’s been missing.
Colin is back in his room, and instant messaging me. The only way we can talk when he gets like this. Dad is downstairs drinking again. Just like every other time they fight. Dad yells for Coli to come downstairs. Coli says that he loves me, and that no matter what to stay in my room. I don’t here footsteps past my door, instead I hear a gunshot. I panic. I hear footsteps pounding up the stairs and past my door. Colin died exactly four years after my mother, along with a part of me.
I lost my brother, my mom, my dad, and a part of myself. After my dad sobered up, he realized what had been going on. He went suicidal too. He was put on a stronger dose of anti-depressants. But they didn't work. He shot himself too. I never would've thought I would loose my entire family to the same wepon. Or my dad and brother with the same gun. I called the cops and I called my Aunt Jozie. She drove to my house and sat there with me while the cops and paramedics took my dad. We had just buried Colin that day, and that just pushed my dad over the edge.
I now live with my aunt. I still go to counseing, and I'm inproving. Well, I guess you could call it that. I'm doing pretty good for someone that lost her whole household family. But, doing good for someone that has lost no one? Nope.
© Copyright 2009 Kelsie (kels1994 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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