Love Is A Form Of Suicide by Jimm Tumbly (web based ebook reader TXT) 📕

I am too shocked to listen. That's when my ears start to work and I can hear her. She is screaming, shouting at me.

"Brent, g-get out of here! Y-you arent supposed to be in here! I-I dont want you to see me like this!" She studders, crying even more. Mrs. May keeps her arm tight against her shoulder, fearing she could black out any minute.

I walk over to Victory. Ignoring her protest, I sit down beside her, making sure to stay clear of the vomit on the other side of her.

"Victory, talk to me. What's wrong, what happend?" She looks away, ignoring my piercing eyes. I place my hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at me. I see in her eyes sadness and an apology.

"I-I'm sorry Brent, so sorry." She burries her face in my chest as I wrap my arms around her. I stroke her back, holding her tight against my body. She shakes in my arms, her body weak and cold.

"I'll go get a blanket." Mrs. May says, standing up. She exits the bathroom.

Once she's gone I ask, "Victory, what's wrong?" She pulls away to look at me.

"I-I want to tell you but..." She trails off.

"But what?"

"But I cant." Her words spark anger. I am her boyfriend, shouldnt she be able to share everything with me? I love her, shouldnt she trust me?

"Victory, I love you. You can trust me." I try to make the words comforting, but they seem forced. She closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"I cant, I just cant." She chats over and over again. I want to shake her, to scream and yell at her. But instead I stand up and make my way to the exit.

"Brent!" She calls after me. I turn to look at her. "Where are you going?" She asks.

"Victory if you cant trust me enough with your secrets, I cant stay here and hold you. I cant comfort you when I dont know what it is you hide from. Im sorry, but I cant." I turn to leave when she says it. The sentence that escapes her lips sends chills through my body. That one sentence changes the whole corse of my life, changes the future forever.

"Im pregnant, Brent."

Surprise!

I stand there, stairing at Victory for what seems like ages. I notice the tears falling from her eyes, study the way her body shakes. My eyes linger to her stomach. She's not showing. Why would she be, she's only two weeks pregnant.

Her words begin to register in my mind, and thats when I realize it. Im going to be a father. My baby, our baby is living inside of the love of my life.

"A-arent you going to say something?" She stutters, looking at me. Her eyes, her beautiful, moss green eyes have gone cold. They dont sparkle, dont shine. They are just empty pits of sadness. My heartbreaks and at that moment, I make a promise to myself that I will never, never make her sad.

"Victory, I-I dont know what to say." I admit, walking towards her. My steps are small, as if Im approching a frightend rabbit. Once I reach her I sit down next to her and pull her into my arms. She gives in easily, resting her head on my shoulder and crying once more.

"Neither do I Brent. I wasnt going to tell you. I-I didnt want to ruin your life." She says. I take her chin and pull her head up to where she is looking at me.

"Why would it ruin my life?" I ask, surprised that she would think that.

"Because your life is already crazy, you dont need to throw a baby in the mix." I sigh and kiss her lightly on the lips.

"My life was already fucked up. You can only make it better." I pull her back into my arms and burry my face in her hair.

"So your not mad?"

"No! Of course not. Sure, I dont really want to have a baby. Im fucked up. A baby doesnt need to be around me. But I wont take back what we did to create that baby." She looks up into my eyes.

"I love you Brent."

"And I love you too, Victory." I bend down and kiss her gently. Mrs. May walks in and Victory jumps out of my arms.

"Here you go sweetheart. Place this rag on your forehead, it will help calm you down." She says, handing Victory a washrag.

I stand up. "Um, Mrs May, I think that Victory should go to the doctor and get a test-"

"No no! Im fine, promise. I just got a little light headed." Victory interrupts me. She eyes me, telling me Mrs. May doesnt know anything about us multiplying.

"are you sure Victory? I think Brent is right-"

"Im positive. See," She stands up, "all better."

Mrs. May eyes her, definitely wondering if she was faking it the whole time. "Well okay. Brent, Ill go get Jack and have him take you back to your room, and then I will come for you, Victory." I nod and then she exits the bathroom once again.

"Brent, she doesnt know about the baby." Victory states.

"I figured. Why didnt you tell her? You need to go to the doctory Victory." I reply.

"I know. But if I tell her, they will definitely send me home, send me away from you." Sadness layers her words. My eyes find tears but I hold them back. If Victory left, I would too. I would do everything in my power to get back to her. I couldnt live in a world without her.

"Okay, dont tell. We...we will figure this out on our own. I mean, we sure made that baby on our own."

Victory smiles slightly and I wrap her in my arms. I kiss her forehead.

I am going to be a father. Poor baby, we cant pick our parents. I feel bad that it got stuck with a fuck up as a father, and had to be concieved in a mental hospital. If I would have killed myself like planned, I wouldnt have made the mistake of concieving a child.

Who Am I

Father. Now that's something I've never known the definition of. What exactly is a father? What do they do for their children, their loved ones? What makes a good father? I never really had a father. Sure, John claimed he was, but all he was to me was a sperm donner. He was never there for me, never cared about me. He couldn't even love my mom and I right. He was a failure, and now I'm in his position. I am going to be a father. But, unlike him, I swear on everything, I will be a good father.

“Brent, what's on your mind?” Mrs. Scarlett asks as I stare out the window. I pull my gaze from the bright blue sky back to Mrs. Scarlett.

“Stuff,” I offer, knowing I am unable to tell Victory's secret. After all, its not mine to tell.

“Brent, I thought we already went over this. You can talk to me, you know?” She taps her pen on the table as the silence grows, becoming impatient.

I finally speak up, becoming annoyed by her presence. “My dad was never really a good father.” I say, changing the subject from my dark secrets.

“How so, Brent?”

“He was a failure. He couldn't even love my mom and I right. But I'm going to be a great father. I'm going to love my kid with every bone in my body. I will never ignore them and I will never, never hit them.” Mrs. Scarlett nods.

“I know you wont, Brent. You will make a great father. you are a good boy.” I stare at her, her words sinking in. you are a good boy.

“H-how could you say that?” I ask, becoming angry.

“Say what?” She looks confused.

“Say that I'm a good boy. How could you say I'm a good boy?” I stare into her eyes, anger boiling.

She notices something in my eyes, something that frightens her. She rolls her chair back a little bit. “Because you are Brent.” She whispers.

I close my eyes and slam my fists on the desk. “No, Kathy, I'm not!” I shout. I open my eyes, a sly smile forming on my lips. “You really don't get it, do you? I am not a good boy. Good boys don't try to kill their selves. Good boys don't get their girlfriends knocked up. Good boys aren't crazy.” My eyes are wild and dark. The way she cowers in her chair, scared of me, brings me pleasure. I laugh mockingly and stand up, walking over to the door.

“You shouldn't be scared, Kathy, I haven't figured out how to kill yet.” I chuckle and exit the room, walking down the hall. Jack is standing next to the door as I exit the room, and he quickly follows behind me.

“She didn't say the session is over.” He says.

“I did. After all, I am the patient.” I reply. We walk silently back to my room. I enter and Jack shuts and locks the door behind me. As soon as I hear his footsteps walk down the hall, I go over to my dresser. I retrieve the blade from my bottom drawer and the bloody shirt. I walk back over to my bed.

Like I have done so many times before,I place the tip of the blade by my wrist and slide it up my arm to the crook of my elbow, blood sliding down the side of my forearm. As soon as the blood rushes from my body, I feel better. The anger that had boiled up inside me was let free in the flow of my crimson blood.

I clean off the blade and the blood on my forearm, stuffing the blade back in my bottom drawer. I lay down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, what just happened all but forgotten.

I think about Victory and our baby. I think about how I am going to be a father. I am going to be the best father there is, and not like my so called “father”.

I sigh and close my eyes, falling deeper and deeper into empty blackness. I am in dream land when a hand grabs my arm. I jolt awake, my eyes opening frightfully.

Jack and Mrs. Scarlett are standing on either side of me, their faces laced with concern.

“Brent,” Mrs. Scarlett says softy. “Did you do that?” She points the the long, freshly made scar on my