"Mom, stop," I told my mother with an anger in my voice, at least for the eighth time now, when she still did not want to give up the abomination. "Give me that bottle!"
She lay on the ground in the kitchen, her head leaning against the cabinet, where were hidden other bottles of an alcohol. Once I replaced them with a water, but it had terrible consequences. My mother beat me so badly that even now two weeks later I have still visible bruises.
“Look, what it's done to you..." I whispered with sadness in my voice as I reached over to rip the bottle out of her hands.
"NO! Never!" She pressed the green bottle even closer to her body, "It's all because of you!" She screamed through her drunkenness. "You are a monster! It all happened because of you! I hate you! Oh God how I hate you!” She moaned and carelessly drank another shot of that disgusting drink, it dribbled down her chin and ran onto her unwashed rags.
I could not handle this anymore. I could not even look at the person who cared for me, who read me fairy tales before bed, but most of all, who loved me a long time ago. I was about to leave when her fingers grabbed my wrists with such a force that I didn’t expect...
"Because of you, Charles died, just because of you, you fat, ugly monster! I wish you were dead and he was here instead of you!" with a contempt in her eyes, she lastly said, "You're nothing!"
I had to leave as fast as possible. In the spite of her drunkenness, still the truth reflected in her eyes. She was right.
I had to run out of here before she sees me cry. She just can’t see me crying. Even though I was broken, I tried to look strong. Like I have my whole life. And if my mother knew my true face, she would know she got me on my knees. That she won. And I will not let that happen.
I ran away from that flat, full of bad memories. I ran away from that woman, who was  very pretty before, with blonde, shiny hair, slim figure, and big blue eyes like mine. I sprinted down the street toward the thing I loved and helped me the most at this point. To the forest. To the woods behind the town, where we went every day with the person I loved. I ran to that place. I screamed. I cried. Those words tore my heart apart. Words, for which I have been blaming myself for four years, all over and over again.
Charles was my brother. He was the best person in the world. He was the one I loved. He was 6 years older than me, had honey-brown hair that fell on his perfect face. He was the  captain of the  basketball team. And he died. Because of me. At that time, he was just 18 when he died in an car accident. (It happened when he picked me up from school because I had to stay there  longer.) He died immediately. Who’s fault it was, was never found, but I knew who did it. It was me. Just me. Because my brother had to pick ME up from school. His death left traces on me, same as on my mother. He meant everything to me.
I rolled up my sleeves like every time I think of what I've ruined. I looked down at my forearms and saw the map. The map of pain. It's the pain I'm doing to myself because of the guilt I killed my brother. The pain that hurts at first, a cloud drifting over the depression and sadness, covering up all of my issues and focusing me on one exact slit. The physical pain comes as skin is ripped, but this immense pain is a sweet release from my own mind. At first, it was just small and light dashes, but then it was getting worse. At first I scratched them on the surface but then I keep on going deeper and deeper. I have countless cuts. Some already healed and some not even one day fresh.
It's the punishment for what I did to him. To my brother. It's a punishment for not being that perfect person everyone expects. I'm not nice enough, I'm not skinny enough, I'm not smart enough to be perfect. My brown hair, a tall figure... It's nothing compare to what I want. Nobody really knows what's going through my mind. Nobody really knew me. Nobody found out who I really was, except Charles.
I stopped and looked up. I looked up on the gray sky, from which cold droplets began to appear, in the sign that I wasn’t crying alone.
"I'm so sorry!" I whispered for the last time before I completely collapsed. I was lying on the cold, wet ground and had another physical bout. I screamed. I was crying. Rubbing my hair off my forehead and pressing my dark blue colored nails into my hands. I shuddered so tightly that I could see red prints on my hands. I didn’t want to stop. I could not even. I had to feel the pain I caused to others.
I fainted and had a dream. But not that dream of darkness that was following me, every time I closed my eyes, but absolutely different dream.
In that dream my brother appeared like a light coming from the dark woods. He was like a shining star. He wore his white shirt and white trousers, from which any girl would fall head over heels for him. 
It looked like he wasn’t coming to me but like he was flying above the ground. He stopped 5 meters away from me and gave me one of his great and truthful smiles like all the time. He reached a hand towards me. I wanted to touch it, wanted to run towards him, but I couldn't. My legs were stuck on that one place. I couldn’t move, couldn't even do one small step towards my brother. To hug him. Be with my brother again.
With his sweet but deep voice, he whispered: “Come with me. Come, where anybody can be happy, where are no worries. Follow me to the place where all dreams come true. Come with me. We can be together. FOREVER! Forever my sweet little star.”
He called me like that from the time I was born. His sweet little star.
“Charles,” I wasn’t able to breath. My brother was standing in front of me. My brother. And wants me to be with him FOREVER.
He made a few steps towards me. He lightly touched my pale skin with his fingers.
“Come!” that was the last word he told me before my angel disappeared in front of my eyes.
                                                           ---
I woke up.
I looked at the place where my brother appeared in my dream,  if he was there. He wasn’t. It was only a dream. But it was so realistic. I just couldn't believe that the dream meant nothing. He was standing in front of me. Calling me.
And I want to be with him.
For the last time, I raised my body from that cold ground. 'Come!' It was like his voice was luring me and I just could not stop. And I have decided.
I took slow steps toward the house with the decision to be with him.
When I walked into the apartment, the disgusting smell of alcohol hit my nose. And my mother, as I guessed, was sleeping exactly in the same position that I saw her in before I ran away. I didn’t want to remember her like that. I came up to her, took her under her armpits, and dragged her lightly to her bedroom. I brushed her hair, changed her, and wiped off the saliva, which was coming out of her mouth and pooling on her chin. Now, after a really long time, she looked like a princess. My princess from the fairytales, that she read to me before bed. I kissed her on the forehead with the tears in my eyes and I whispered in her ear:
"You will feel better without me. Finally you will be happy. And I'll fulfill your last wish."  ‘I wish you were dead and he was here instead of you!’ and I will also be happy again. With Charles.”
I caressed her for the last time, and with the last glance I gave her, I went to the bathroom. I took the door handle, knowing that this was the last time I was  doing this. And after, I will be again with that person who never hurt me.
I locked the door behind me, went to the bath and filled it to the edge with the boiling water. I climbed inside, despite the pain I first felt on the tips of my fingers, which then ran through my whole body. But I did not care. I also did not care that my long, thick hair covered my face, or that my clothes were wet. It did not matter anymore. I took the sharp silver razor that was hiding behind my shampoos and for the last time I pulled the  sleeves of my sweatshirt up. "FOREVER!" I whispered to myself with tears in my eyes before the blade burst into my skin. I moved with that sharp razor as slow as possible. I was just looking at the blood flowing more than before over my hands. I shoved my hand into my fist and cut my wrist again. Now deeper than ever before.
Was it painful? Did it hurt? YES. But I did it for him and I felt calm. Calmer than ever before. I was finally free again. Free as a bird flying towards the sky. And if anybody will ever miss me? Possibly not. And if so they will just cry, wipe their tears and then they will continue. They will forget. As always. But it didn’t matter. Because I was finally happy again. HAPPY.
    That one word passed my mind before I sank into an eternal sleep, from which there was no return.