Urban Legends And Tales

Depression Is A Demon

Trigger warning. Suicide & self-harm.

No one should have to walk in on a suicide.

Especially not a teenage kid.

Dad had always warned me about depression. "Depression is a demon," he would say. And looking back I can see why it was that he wanted to grind the topic in to my head so often. When I was younger, I was very absorbed in to my own life. That's what teenagers do. Teenage problems, teenage drama, teenage angst.

You miss some of he larger issues that are right in front of you.

I missed that dad switched jobs not for better money or for something he liked better but because he was let go. The yelling that happened late into the night that I would drown out with music.

The nights that I came home after curfew and dad was always waiting up to make sure I was okay. My dad would say that depression would loom around. It would hang on your shoulders and even when you think it's gone it'll be there waiting for that low point.

I don't think I noticed what he was trying to tell me.

I remember we would go on family trips and dad would always smile but he would look off into the distance. Almost like he wasn't really there. He was thinking about something else that only he knew about.

I think mom noticed it too. It tore her to the point that she moved out. She said she couldn't handle him anymore.

When I found the note, I didn't know what to do.

I had no idea that the word 'goodbye' could be as powerful as it was on that yellow notepad.

I ran through the house, screaming for him. "Dad! Dad!" My feet thumping around the first floor and up the stairs towards his bedroom, a thin line of light showed under the bathroom door.

I pounded on it, yelling for him again.

"Dad! Dad!" Sobbing. All I could hear was my dad's sobbing coming from the other side. "Dad please," I said more to myself than to him. I'm not sure he could hear me with such a whisper. The doorknob was cold to the touch. My hand wrapped around it but I couldn't will myself to turn it.

I knew what the note meant. Dad was behind this door and I wasn't sure if I wanted to see him as he might be. Had he already gone through with it? And what should I do if he had? Should I wait and just call 911? But if I didn't go in now would he go through with it before anyone else was here to help me?

Thoughts raced in me but finally instinct took over my body moved before my mind could make a conclusion. The door swung open slowly. There he was. Razor to wrist and sitting in the bathtub, a small trickle of blood ran over his arm. He was shaking. He was shaking. The blade had just barely pierced his skin. He-he hadn't gone through with it yet.

I could still help him.

I didn't know what to say. "Dad please, don't. Please."

It was all I could think of but he wouldn't listen. He stared like he always did. Away at something like he wasn't there with me. I followed his line of sight. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see it. Or I couldn't see it until I really wanted to. A shadowed figure. An outlined figure of a man with no form.

The darkened blur of a man knelt beside dad. He was touching him no-- he was holding him. Holding his arms, holding his hands.

Dad wasn't cutting his wrists. The shadow, the darkness the thing. The thing that I could see but couldn't see was cutting him. The long smoky fingers of the thing held the razor over dad's wrists and its head would shift from the blade to meet dad's gaze.

And then back again. It was playing with him, almost asking, "should I?"

When I could finally break my eyes away they locked on to my father's. He stopped looking at the shadow. He was looking at ME. Right in to my eyes.

"Help me. Help. Me."

The blade slit effortlessly down his arm.

Dad's eyes were watering and I was frozen. I had no idea what I had walked in on or what I was witnessing. And worst of all, I had no idea how to help.

Dad went limp.

The shadow turned its head to me.

His funeral was a few days ago.

I haven't really left my room much since then. And mom calls me down for dinner and I try. I really do but I don't think I can ever tell her about that shadow that I saw with dad.

I don't think I could ever tell her that it hasn't left my side since that day.

***

By: goldc01n