Hurting People Hurt Others – Vinnie Saw His Father Kill His Mother

“I saw my father kill my mother”   ‘Vinnie’  My Psychiatrist says I have ‘hate’ issues. He says to hate someone is to despise or detest them. I believe that to hate someone can sometimes be a cry for help that has been ignored for so long that the tears have evaporated and turned into bitter poisonous salt—I hate my father!I loved my mother. She had the most amazing personality and warm presence. She was my down-comforter, my angel, my favorite toy and then some. Even though there were always people in and out of our house when I was growing up, there were things that only she did for me. She would ask me what I wanted to eat when I got back from school and, when I got home from school, there it was. She would set the table and we would always eat dinner together. I don’t ever recall eating dinner with my father, then again, he was never at home. My mother would help me with my homework and make sure everything was okay with me and school was okay for me. You know, I don’t ever recall my father asking me if I was okay, or how things were at school. My mother and I said our prayers together nearly every night. If, for some reason, she had to go out with my father or over to her folks, she would call me to make sure we said our prayers together over the phone and make sure that I was okay. When I talked to her, she listened. She didn’t give me the ‘Ummm’ or...

We All Know Someone Who Has Committed Suicide – Note from Author of U Murder U (Suicide)

  Q: Why is your latest novel about suicide? A: Because believe it or not we all know someone who has committed suicide.  In my author’s note I talk about someone I knew . . . .    Note from Author  Most people, like me, will know someone who committed suicide or know someone who knows someone.  When I finished my MSc in Medical Microbiology at university I got a job in a renowned London hospital’s Microbiology Laboratory and it was there that I met him, my work mentor. He wasn’t that tall, was balding, of slight built and told me once that he bought some of his trousers in the children’s section of clothing shops. He took me under his wing and taught me the difference between studying Medical Microbiology and working in a laboratory and how to put my theory know-how into practice. He used to wind me up by calling me ‘Gladiola’ instead of Gladys – he told me it was the name of a beautiful flower and I believed him (we didn’t have the internet back then for me to check if it was true or not). I worked with him for nearly seven years; two of those years were spent on maternity leave having my children. When I went back to work each time he brought me up to speed and made sure that I was okay with all the new methods.  The things I remember most are his willingness to always help me when I needed help at work and how when we had a slight misunderstanding I would frown at him, he...

Chapter 11 of U Murder U (Suicide)

       U Murder U (Suicide) available in a black or red cover Chapter 11 of U Murder U (Suicide) now available!   CHAPTER 11 From the periphery of the A&E operating room Patrick and Eloise Carmichael watched as doctors and nurses worked quickly to save their daughter’s life. Wires were connected, monitors checked, a tube inserted into Jessica’s mouth and blood taken from her arm. Amid all of this, Eloise’s sobs were not acknowledged by her husband, he offered her no comfort, he allowed himself none either. Suddenly Jessica went into cardiac arrest and as the doctors and nurses hurried to shock her heart, a nurse ushered the Carmichaels out of the room. Sergeant John Kelleher had parked his unmarked squad car on a double yellow line on the road outside the hospital (he mentally dared any traffic warden to give him a ticket – he was looking for a reason to let off some steam). He hadn’t been able to find appropriate parking on the hospital grounds and he was irritated that he had to attend to the family of yet another suicide attempt, his fifth in two weeks. Not all his cases were suicide attempts, a number of them were actual suicides. Yesterday a young man had jumped from a bridge in front of a high speed freight train. Police officers had tried unsuccessfully to talk him down for twenty minutes. The minutes were used asking him his name, asking him about his family, what his favourite food was, where he lived and where he worked and intermittently begging him not to jump. He had...

Chapter 9 of U Murder U (Suicide)

    CHAPTER 9   Unable to sleep, very drunk and very angry because Elle hadn’t called her back, Jessica rifled through some papers she had taken out of the secret desk compartment. She kept the compartment locked and the key to unlock it hidden in a pendant on a chain around her neck. She glanced at the papers as she desperately looked for one in particular, she read words like, ‘Death is a friend of mine’ and ‘We’re going to leave this world on our terms when the time is right for us’, they made her smile as did the gothic-like art that surrounded the words. These words usually gave her comfort in her sobriety pending the time she could get hold of a drink. She found the paper she sought, relief flooded through her, igniting her nerves and sending her pulse racing; she clasped it to her chest for a few moments. She turned her iPod on, selected a song then clambered onto her bed. She closed her eyes momentarily absorbing into her soul what can only be described as morbid, death-like music. Chanting embraced and caressed the music as it spewed out from the speakers. Each syllable seemed to conjure up spirits, evil and agile spirits that pandered to her mental state of mind – they danced to the music, decadence rife. Her heart beat faster as the chanting picked up pace and the music became almost maniacal-like. Jessica swayed this way and that, her eyes rolled backwards in her head. She felt herself floating higher and higher. The banging on her bedroom door served as...

Chapter 5 of U Murder U (Suicide)

    The next instalment of U Murder U (Suicide) below – Chapter 5 CHAPTER 5  Conference Room, Large Book Shop in Oxford Street, London “Mrs Lewis, there are nearly two hundred people in the conference room waiting for you, are you ready?” The book shop’s posh divisional manager asked, interrupting Anna’s soliloquy. He studied the attractive woman, whose head was bent; dark, luxurious curls framed her tanned, pretty face. She opened her eyes and looked at him and he felt his breath catch at the back of his throat as he stared at her un-matching eyes. One eye was greenish brown and the other a bright greenish blue, he was unsure if they were real or lensed and even though he had read that she had heterochromia iridum (mis-matched eyes), seeing them in the flesh took his breath away. Anna Lee Lewis nodded then opened the gold locket which hung from a chain around her neck. She looked at the picture of her late mother enclosed and smiled. “I’m ready,” she said, pushed her curly hair to one side and walked to the conference room with firm, confident steps. “First of all, I want to thank you all for coming today and I also want to say, no matter what you’ve read or heard about me, unlike the little boy in that movie – I don’t see dead people,” Anna told her audience. Some people in the room laughed, others stared openly at her, not sure what to expect. “My name is Anna Lee Lewis, I was born and raised in Chicago, I co-founded the charity Talk To...