Jackelynn (I know this is confusing but it will make sense soon)

I woke up to the sound of my Father yelling at my Mom again. It was two in the morning and he was right on time. He’d probably been out doing what he seems to do best, getting drunk. It seems to be the only thing he ever does. Then he comes home to my Mom completely wasted. My Dad became an alcoholic ever since he lost his job six months ago. He’s been unemployed this whole time and we can hardly make ends meet. Any money we get just ends up being spent on boos. My Mom’s tried suggesting that my father go to an A.A. meeting. It’s always the same result; Dad gets angry, refuses, and Mom ends up sitting alone in their bedroom crying and covered in bruises. Now that I’m seventeen, I got a job at the Stop N’ Shop down the street. It’s the only thing I can do besides comfort my mom and fix her up after another fight with my Dad. I know he doesn’t mean to her hurt her. Somewhere deep down, I know he still loves us. I hope.

Aurora

I woke up the next morning, one side of my face still wet from my soaked-through pillow. Who knew that one person could generate so many tears? I wondered. The sun was coming in through the window and down into my eyes. Stupid sun. I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow. For a brief second, I forgot last night. I had forgotten the horrible thing that I had done. I took the pillow off of my head and sat up in my bed. Then everything flooded back to me as soon as I saw my arm. How was I even going to hide this? If somebody found out, I could get sent away to rehab, or even some kind of mental hospital. Was I crazy? Why did I even do it in the first place? I regretted what I had done, yet somehow I wanted to do it again, and that scared me. When I did it, when I cut myself, I just couldn’t control it. I just kept wanting more.
What would happen if it wasn’t enough?