• ***Mentions of self-harm and suicide***

    TOO MUCH

    Nothing could ever prepare someone for when they find their seventeen year old daughter hemorrhaging in their bedroom, bleeding out from the deep wounds in their wrists. I was one of the unlucky parents who had to face this situation with the severe lack of preparation.

    But how would someone prepare themselves for this? We had known for a long time that Bree would not last to see eighteen – if she had it would have been a miracle but our fears had been confirmed tonight and nothing would ever be the same.

    I watched sadly as the paramedics put pressure bandages on my baby girl’s arms and strapped an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth before they scooped her bloody figure off her bed and carefully carried her downstairs to the ambulance where she was strapped to the gurney in the back before they sped off to the nearest hospital.

    Vanessa – my wife – had asked them which hospital they would be taking Bree to and had already grabbed her car keys and locked up the house. She hugged me tightly and pecked me on the cheek, murmuring that Bree would be alright – we both knew this was a lie.

    Vanessa drove, I was never any good to drive when this happened and she felt that she was helping so no one stopped her; not me, not Marlene, not Leonardo, not Valence and not Robert. We all cared about Bree and we had figured out a system early on to handle these situations as best as we could.

    When we arrived at the hospital, we met with Valence and watched as he shined – we walked into the emergency room and he jumped the first doctor he saw, demanding information on Bree. Valence had an aura about him that seemed to tell people when he asked for something, he was serious and wouldn’t leave you alone until you gave him the information he desired. This was his way of helping Bree.
    When he returned I placed a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes hopefully, mine welling with tears of fearful anticipation.

    “What do you know?” Vanessa whispered from behind me, presumably looking to her brother with a similar expression to my own.

    Valence spoke slowly, cautiously. “She’s critical, they … they don’t think that she is going to make it this time…” He paused and watched as I began to cry, we all knew I wasn’t strong enough to deal with this … not this time.

    Vanessa wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back as I cried before I heard Marlene and Robert. I stood up straight and wiped the tears from my eyes before I tried to smile at them but choked on my attempt at optimism and fell to my knees with my head in my hands. Someone – Marlene – kneels in front of me and puts two fingers under my chin, lifting my head up to look at her.

    “Aaron, you can do this – I know that it hurts, Bree’s like a daughter to me too but she needs you now, more than anyone… She needs her dad with her to hold her hand and keep away the last nightmare.”

    I looked up at her before looking to the others, Robert and Valence holding out their hands to pull me to my feet. I accepted their offers before as a group – no, as a family, we went to find Bree. When she wasn’t in the emergency ward, Valence put his talents to use again and found that Bree had been moved to the Intensive Care Unit – I was beginning to feel there was something that had not been as evident as the bloodstains and cuts.

    On our way to the ICU, by shear chance, we met with Leonardo who luckily had seen Bree as she was brought up and had come down to find us. Leo’s talent, finding Bree when she was in trouble when the rest of us didn’t know, or finding where she was when she was in trouble.

    “She’s not in good shape guys, I’ve seen her through a lot when she was growing up in Ireland and she has never been this bad,” he murmured. This simply made us move faster, Leo leading us to Bree’s room where I burst through the door and ran to my daughter’s bedside. I reached out to touch her cheek and let a mangled cry of dismay escape my lips as I felt how cold she was.

    I ignored her body temperature and placed my hands on her cheeks, leaning down and kissing her forehead gently before I began whispering frantically.

    “Wake up Bree, please, we need you to wake up, let us see those beautiful eyes baby girl, please…” This went on for what I later found out was hours until finally Robert pulled me away from the bed.

    “Aaron, mate, you need to calm down, I know it hurts but you need to eat, drink, relax, *breathe*.”

    “I c-can’t! Not until s-she wakes u-u-up!”

    “Darling…” It was Vanessa. “Aaron, Bree isn’t going to wake up… S-She’s gone…”

    I shoved Robert away and looked to my daughter. There was no movement, no fluttering under her eyelids as she dreamed, no blood to be drawn and no more pain to be had. My baby girl, my only daughter … she was gone.

    “I’m so sorry Aaron,” Robert murmured as he placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me out of the room. Robert’s way of helping Bree, getting me out when things got too much for me to handle – that’s how we all helped Bree to our best abilities when this happened. But this would be the last time.