"Why don't you two just fuck and get it over with." I joked, hoping desperately to make one of them laugh, smile or even just stop screaming.

It didn't work. Damon was the first to speak again "Shannon, why do you have to be such a manipulative cunt?!"

I am not sure I even heard her response, I was lost in his eyes. My best friend was one fine man, and anger made him even finer. The blue in his eyes was brought out even more by the redness in his cheeks. His red hair was glued to his face by sweat and his usual slump had straitened up to show his true height of 6'2".

"Damon, you are such an ass, do you really think I give a fuck what you think" Shannon sneered going into her defensive "I am too good for you" mode. I slumped down in my spot on the bed, thinking this was a horrible way to celebrate a birthday.

"You are nothing to me," she continued. "I can have any man I want."

This part was true. My little sister was a beauty indeed, long blonde hair and clear blue eyes only added to the beauty of her china doll face.

"Then why are you with me? Any man you want, my ass! What makes you think any one else would want your psychotic ass? Everyone you know knows you are fuckin crazy."

"Mike doesn't," she stabbed, returning to the reason for the fight. "I have him wrapped around my finger," she raised her right hand and wiggled her pinky to elaborate her point.

"Fine then, why don't you just fuck that pussy? Happy birthday to me! I get a card and loose a pain in my ass."

I turned over on the bed and laid down wishing I hadn't gotten stuck in the middle of this. Trying my hardest to ignore them, I started braiding my hair.

"Wouldn't you agree, Janice?" That was Shannon, but I had no clue what she was talking about.

"Whatever" I shrugged, no longer caring.

"Do it," she challenged.

"I will."

"Fine!"

"Fine, Fuck you!"

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck this," I griped, climbing off of the bed. "You two are pathetic"

"Pathetic is right." Shannon pointed at Damon, "I would be better off if you just offed yourself like your always threatening!"

"Shannon," I warned, she was about to cross the limits of my patience.

"Shut the fuck up!" She was screaming at me now. "You need to learn to stay out of my business."

"I NEED? You dragged me into this" I sat down at the vanity. Shannon walked over to her mom's dresser and opened the top drawer. After tossing half the clothes in the drawer onto the floor, she pulled out what she was looking for.

"Use this," she cooed. I turned back to the task at hand, cutting my next line.

"Shannon, you know, you ARE a psycho." I laughed. I concentrated on the tan powder blocking them out of my head. Thinking about how sorry I was that I ever fixed them up, I made myself three rails. Opening the drawer, I pulled out one of her mom's pre cut straws. I could hear them screaming, but I didn't know, or want to know what they were saying to one another. This was just a repeat of every other day of their relationship. Nine months of nothing but fighting. On the side, they both consulted with me about how much they hated one another, but still, they were together. I could never understand their reasons.

After inhaling the first line, I could hear my heart in my ears, it was almost enough to drown them out. My thought whirled around in circles from this to that as my body numbed. The voices in my head were silenced, even though I knew they would only stay this way for a few minutes, I sat back to enjoy it. Studying the pattern on the doily under the glass, I lost myself in thoughts that were nothing more than jibberish.

BAMM!!

The voice in the back of my head warned me not to look up. The high vanished within seconds. I heard that, it wasn't a figment of my imagination "Don't look up." I stared hard at the table, concentrating on remaining calm as I studied the red dots that had appeared on the glass.

"Don't look up, just don't do it, whatever you do, do not look up! "My eyes caught a clump of hair on the glass in front of me, as I picked it up to study it, the warmth in my face and neck extended into the rest of my body, burning me with what seemed to be the beginning of a fire in my chest. My chest, "breath" My mind screamed it almost loud enough to escape my lips. When was my last breath? I did not know, all I knew was what I was looking at. I picked up the cluster of hair and looked at it. Wiping the slick red liquid from it I desperately tried to make it blonde.

Rubbing and rubbing, I tried, but the red stayed. Disobeying the voice, I turned around. Shannon was bent over Damon with the gun still in her hand.

"You killed him" I was startled by how calm my voice was.

"No"

"You killed him, my God, you killed him" I could feel my heart racing, I could hear it in my ears. His face seemed peaceful, were it not for the spicket of blood above his ear, I would think him asleep. The blood spread across the carpet like on tile, tracing the outline of his extended arm.

Trying to keep my calm, I wiped the back of my neck.

"I didnt do it" Shannon cried "He did."

"You" I pointed, "are a psycho." Looking at my extended hand, I realised that it was covered in blood, the heat of my body started darting up to intolerable, my breath panted out of control, my heart raced even faster in my ears. Wiping the back of my neck again came up with even more blood. looking back into the mirror I saw that there was very little blood on my face, I was still holding the plug of his hair.

I could feel the warm liquid burning my cheeks and realized I was sobbing. "YOU KILLED HIM," I screamed.

"YOU PSYCHOTIC BITCH!" I Paused long enough to hear the knocking at the door "HOW COULD YOU KILL HIM, HOW COULD YOU!" The world spinned and turned dark, my head hit the floor with a sound that too me was even louder than the gunshot. I stared into his eyes for the last time as the darkness turned to black.

That evening, when I woke up, I stared up at the white cieling and felt a moment of reilief as I realised it was a dream, sitting up, I realised I was not in my bedroom as I had suspected. Shannon was asleep in the chair in the corner of the room.

"What happened?"

She looked up, tear stained, she smiled weakly at me.

"I had a seizure." I stated, almost asking.

She nodded her head. " Glad you are ok."

I laughed "I'm used to 'em." Looking at her tear stained face, I knew it was not a dream. "Shannon, you are not my sister."

Tears ran down her face as she stood up. "Call me when you forgive this."

As she walked out I knew that that was a call I would never make.

It has been 6 years, and I still do not know who pulled the trigger. I doubt I ever will.