She gave in.

Age 11.

The people at my school did not like me very much. Everyone called me the ugly, weird girl. Zion always told me never to take their words to heart, but he wasn't the one who sat in the same room as them for seven hours a day, listening to them giggle and mumble insults directed at me. I was darker than most of the girls in my class, a very dark shade of brown that almost looked black, and I guess my color didn't really please them. It didn't make sense how my own people would bully me for my color. It didn't make sense at all. I just wanted to be invisible. I just wanted peace. It seemed no matter how many times my brothers tried to fight for me, it only got worse. The bullying never stopped. I just wanted to disappear. I hated my school with passion.

"I'm so glad tomorrow isn't school." I grumbled under my breath as I packed my bags to leave class. Aisha and her friends were sitting in a desk very close to the door and I gulped, preparing to be teased again by them. I released a deep breath, clutching the hand of my bag as I got closer to where they were. I saw how Aisha's friend, Dapo, had gotten down from the desk and onto his feet, a mischievous smile on his face as he watched me. He took a step forward but halted as a voice called my name from the door. I almost cried in relief as I made my way towards my brother, Zaire and clutched his arm. He looked down at me and then Aisha's group and led me outside without a word.

We made our way outside the school building and Zion was already sitting the car waiting for us. I greeted the driver, Mr Ajibola, and sat next to Zion. I was quiet throughout our ride back home and ignored the look Zion kept giving me. If he had something to say, he should just say it instead of staring at me, I wanted to say to him, but still, I kept quiet.

It was only after the car pulled up at our home and were all stepping out, he had asked, "Are you okay, Zuri?" He addressed me by my English name. I shrugged.

"Those little mosquitoes were about to mess with her again." Zaire told him. But they had already messed with me though, they were just looking for round two.

"You should just tell Mom and dad about it. They're taking it too far. The principal can invite their parents and have a talk with them." Zion wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we both walked inside, my oldest brother following behind.

"That's just going to make them hate me more, Zi. I just have to ignore them. They'll get tired eventually." Zaire scoffed.

"We're telling Mom and Dad, end of discussion."

"Zaire, listen to me-"

"I said what I said. They're bullying you. They need to be taught a lesson." I folded my hand into a fist, suppressing the urge to argue with him. I knew he was right, but I also knew this decision would possibly provoke Aisha and her friends. My fingers dug into my skin as I let Zion lead me upstairs. His bedroom was opposite to mine.

"Hey, where's Mom? Usually she greets us with kisses the minute we walk in." Zion announced and I suddenly realized. We were so caught up with our discussion we didn't notice the absence of our mother. Mom was a work at home mom and she always came down to greet us with kisses to the cheek whenever we got back from school. It was something I always looked forward to after a shitty day at school.

"Maybe she went somewhere- Do you know where our mother is aunty Mary?" Zaire asked our cook, aunty Mary, who happened to walk past us. She stopped in front of us.

"Last time I saw her she was going to her room. She came back from the pharmacist and went up to her room." She informed us. We thanked her and made our way towards our mother's bedroom to greet her. She was probably asleep.

"Maybe she's sleeping. We don't want to disturb her." I said.

"If she's asleep we'll go back." Zaire shrugged. He pushed open the bedroom door and our eyes searched around the room because her bed was empty. My eyes finally settled on a corner of the room and a body slumped to the floor, covered in a pool of blood. I screamed at the sight of my mother laying unconscious in her blood.

"Mommy!" I pulled away from Zion and rushed to her side. I got down on my knees and grabbed her hand, tears streaming down my face. My brothers also got down on their knees next to me, looking pale and horrified. Zion picked up what looked like a kitchen knife beside her, his hand shaking furiously. I could hear my oldest brother struggling to breathe as he pulled out his phone from his pocket to make a call.

"D-dad, I-I- I need you to come home. P-please."

"Why? What's the matter?" I heard my father's perplexed voice coming from his cellphone.

"M-mom- M-mom- Sh-She- F-floor- B-blood. I-it's really bad." His voice cracked as he tried to form a sentence. I cried harder as I cradled her bleeding hand to my cheek, not caring that I was getting blood all over my face.

"W-why mom. Why." I sobbed. Zion pulled me into his arms and I cried into his chest. His arms tightened around me as his body shook and we both cried our hearts out. The workers had arrived a few moments later, having the same reactions as us. By the time Dad had arrived, the police were driving in behind him. Zion and I never let go of each other as more and more people crowded our home, asking questions, taking pictures, trying to investigate and find out the reason why my mother had ended her own life.

Why did this happen?

Why did she do this?

Why would she end her own life, wasn't she happy?

Why would she leave us like this?

That night, none of us slept. Dad was devastated, but he kept trying to put a hard front. With his shoulders unbent and his jaw firm, the emptiness in his eyes betrayed the broken heart that had been shattered. I moved away from my brothers' hold and sat next to him, because even he deserved to be comforted. I wrapped my arms around his waist and dropped my head on his chest. Dad let out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around my small frame and cradled me to him. I could hear his heart still thudding and I closed my eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss at the top of my head.

For some reason, I could not get that image out of my head. The image of my mother lying in her own pool of blood. I could not unhear the words I heard from the investigators, about what she had written in her diary. About the voices in her head being so loud that she finally decided to give in.

It haunted me for days. Days turning into weeks. Weeks turning into months, until I felt like I was finally loosing it.