Tag Archives: Suicide Attempt

Roaches Make Strange Bedfellows

Rusted and RuinedMy mom tried to kill herself, and was consequently deemed an unfit parent. Children services took my brother and me away and introduced us to the wonderful horrors of foster care. Luckily, our grandparents decided to take custody of us shortly thereafter, but forms and proceedings had to happen before they could take us “home,” so we were stuck in the system.

Children services decided to put us both into a group home for boys. They knew the situation was temporary, so they gave in when we begged them not to separate us. That’s how I, a girl, ended up sleeping on a couch in a group home for boys. They only let me stay there because I promised not to go upstairs where the the boys slept. I stayed downstairs, where the bathroom had no shower or bathtub, and I went without a shower for a week. But, all this was fine by me because my brother said the roaches were worse up there.

It was hard to imagine an infestation larger than the one downstairs. Roaches where everywhere. I hardly slept the entire time I was in that house. I knew the roaches would crawl all over me the second I drifted off to sleep. When the house was dark, they crawled out from their hiding places, frolicking on the counters and cabinets, tables and chairs, walls and ceilings, curtains and rugs.

I fought the urge to burn my clothes and tear off my skin every morning. I knew, I just knew the filthy creatures laid eggs under my skin while I slept. The disgusting things had crawled in my mouth while I snored. They went into my ears, ate the wax, then shit it back out. The dirt of their little bodies covered every part of me, but I couldn’t take a shower because it was upstairs with the boys’ rooms. I washed myself in the bathroom sink downstairs as well as I could, but I didn’t feel clean again until after I had taken four or five showers at my grandparent’s house.

People seem to think that foster homes are safe and clean. They think that the places are regularly inspected, the foster parents thoroughly checked. They think the system works, that it protects children. They’re wrong.

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Nail Polish Remover Kills

Fingernails Are Pretty

The screaming and boxing matches between my parents were too much for me. I was scared and sad all the time, and I had no means of escape. When I stumbled on a chance to end it, I took it.

“This stuff is poisonous, so go wash your hands,” my mother said, twisting the cap onto the bottle of nail polish remover.

Poisonous? Really?

I walked down the hallway and slowly entered the bathroom. I turned on the water, and pretended to wash my hands as I stared into the mirror. I said goodbye to my tiny reflection, and walked to my bedroom. I said long, tearful goodbyes my stuffed animals, and somberly knelt down in front of the window. I put my fingers in my mouth, and waited to die.

I was very upset when the poison failed to kill me. Taking more of it, or finding some other poison never crossed my tiny, little mind. Kindergartners just aren’t that smart.