It was in the middle of, in every other house on the block, a normal suburban night. Other teens her age were out whether they should be or not, doing things that would mortify their parents who were obsessed with being normal. Things like partying, or, well, you ought to know. But her? She cried. Her room, scattered with broken glass and furniture overturned, echoed her state of mind. Her life, her dreams, her plans had fallen and hit the ground like the freezing rain outside.

A week ago, while walking home from school, alone on her solemn route to parents too busy to be bothered by her, she stopped in her tracks. Right in front of her, her loving aunt stood in her way, arms outstretched. Delighted, Liia ran to embrace her, about to ask if she could spend the night, but before she could, her aunt vanished.

Liia continued on, shaking it off. When she was younger, she had turned to drugs as a form of coping for depression. Since she had just taken some with her friends before departing for home, she shrugged it off as a hallucination.

Later that night, Liia's aunt died in a car accident, and so her nightmare began.

This horrific event occured on random days. Liia, thinking she saw a loved one, would begin to cry (after all, her aunt had died), and they would soon turn up dead. It took her boyfriend. It took her brother. It took her childhood friend. Finally, she could not take it once more.

Looking in the mirror, she saw her tear streaked face with disgust. She had recovered from her shock and linked her hallucinations with the deaths of her loved ones. She felt responsible. She could not hate herself more.

In her grief and self directed anger, she tore apart her room, shattering the windows, throwing things at the wall. Her parents hadn't come to check on her. They hadn't said a word since her aunt died.

The few close to her were gone. It hit her again, and her knees gave way. She curled up and cried.

Hours passed, and still, she cried, until finally, her door creaked open. Her mother's eyes widened at the room, and then, the bed. For some reason, after climbing over the mess and approaching her bed, her mother screamed and began to bawl.

Wondering why on earth her stupid mother was doing this, she walked over.

Liia's body lay under the covers, a pill bottle clutched in her hand.

Suddenly, Liia remembered what, after looking in the mirror of the medicine cabinet, she took out of the space behind the mirror.

She stood there, shocked. She watched as her father came in. Her seemingly uncaring parents were crying over her body.

It wasn't just her suicide that brought out more shocked tears. It was the fact that that's what it took to make her parents show their love.

She cried.

Her parents, scared, looked around for the sound.