Chapter 22 Mackenzie
In the way I was raised, taking your own life damns you—no purgatory, no last rites, just eternal flames licking at your flesh while demons laugh at your weakness.
The church finally “evolved” on this, decades too late for the thousands who died in shame—I still don’t know what the fuck took them so long.
Suicide isn’t sin or weakness—it’s desperation so raw it consumes you.
People who end their lives aren’t choosing death; they’re fleeing from a pain so unbearable it feels close to drowning.
Each breath is agony, each wave crushes your lungs, salt water burns your throat, and the surface seems impossibly far away until oblivion feels like mercy.
We weren’t mad at Mami.
Least of all me, I understood her pain because it reflected mine. I felt the same every single day, I was just too scared to follow through.
Thankfully, hers was not a success. Even though I understood, I don’t think my siblings would have. When I faced her sorrow head on, they pushed it away. Much like they do with me every single day, they pretend everything is okay, but my mother and I—we’re in the deep, waves pulling us under.
Everything is not okay. Not for her, not for me.
When the orderlies pried her from our arms, we knew she needed help, but watching her wheeled away felt like we were feeding her to wolves.
Like we’d failed her completely. I’ll never forget how the wheels of her gurney squeaked against the linoleum floor, each rotation like a tiny scream echoing through the sterile hallway.
RJ stood frozen beside me, his callused hand gripping mine so tight I lost feeling in my fingers, while Cadence sobbed against my shoulder.
We were statues, watching as they took her away, our bodies unable to move, but our hearts racing after her.
“She’ll be okay,” the doctor told us, but his eyes betrayed him. I’ve always hated how adults lie to children, as if our youth makes us blind to the truth.
We knew it would take a while before okay was even an option.
In the waiting room, Tía Manuella, my father’s sister, brought us coffee so we could stay awake for any updates—she and my cousins flew in from Cali.
They felt like the only family we had left.
She was the only person I felt that I could call.
I didn’t see my father’s side too often, even though my grandmother, his mother, lived with us back when we were younger before she passed.
When I asked how they got here so quickly, she mentioned something about a private jet—I never knew my father’s side had that kind of money. Tía Manuella was nothing like that. Though always well-dressed, she always seemed down-to-earth when she visited.
As we sit here, she strokes my hair and whispers prayers that are hard to believe in, but as I said…it’s all we know. Though what good were saints who let Mami suffer? What mercy existed in a God who watched her drown inside herself? I have so many questions—and zero answers.
And I could hear my grandmother turning in her grave. “Who are you to question God?” Her Cuban accent, thick. “Do you know his plan?”
I wish I could be more like her, believe in a God that would “save” us all in the end. But doubt is a poison, and it’s already deep in my veins.
The hospital clock ticks away minutes that feel like hours.
RJ paces the length of the waiting room, his shadow stretching across the wall like some restless ghost. Cadence has finally fallen asleep, her head on prima Melody’s lap, tear tracks dried on her cheeks. I envy her escape, however temporary.
“You should rest too, mija,” Tía says, her eyes rimmed red.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Your mami’s stronger than you know,” she whispers, her fingers tracing circles on my back.
“Is she?” I ask, and I hate how my voice cracks. “Because I didn’t see strength when Dad died. I saw her falling apart. I watched her wither, while you all did, what? Close your eyes?”
RJ shoots me a look—a silent plea to shut up. He never wants to face the truth, even now.
“I should have seen it coming,” I continue, ignoring him. “The pills in her nightstand kept disappearing faster. She’d stare at nothing for hours. I’d find her crying in the shower. I knew, and I did nothing,” I yell, unsure if I’m mad at myself, or if I’m mad that I didn’t beat her to it.
I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I can sit here pretending I’m fine, or that I want to keep living this life
Cadence startles, her eyes fluttering open, swollen, mascara streaking down her cheeks. “We all saw it,” she croaks. “This is not your fault, Mack.”
“I was the one that was with her the most.”
My brother stops pacing and crouches in front of me, taking my hands in his. “You shouldn’t have been doing it alone. I’m sorry, Mack. I could have come home more often. I could have checked in too.”
My anguish takes over, and I cling to him like a life raft, my sobs muffled as he pulls my head to his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair, his voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
The words feel hollow between us—not because he doesn’t mean them, but because sorry can’t fix this.
Sorry can’t erase the images in Cadence’s head of mami on the bathroom floor, pill bottle knocked over, her lips blue.
Sorry can’t undo the months of warning signs we all noticed but didn’t know how to address.
“I should call Abuela,” RJ says after a while, pulling back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “She needs to know.”
“She’s going to blame us,” I say, and the truth of it sits heavy in my chest. Abuela, who was even more rigid than my father’s mother in her faith—with her rosary beads, and holy water—will see this as our failure, as if we could have prayed Mami’s depression away.
“I should have been there,” RJ murmurs into my hair, his voice catching. “I was too busy with my own life to see hers falling apart.”
Tía Manuella shakes her head, her gold earrings catching the harsh fluorescent light.
“You children cannot carry this. Your mother’s pain…
it was deep. From before your father. Some souls carry darkness from long ago.
” Her eyes find mine, almost as if she also knows the thoughts swirling inside of me, almost as she can sense I am at my breaking point.
I pull away from RJ, wiping my face with my sleeve. “What do you mean, from before Dad?”
Something flickers across Tía’s face—hesitation, maybe fear. She glances at my sleeping cousin Fabien before meeting my eyes again. “There are things about your mother’s past…things she never wanted to burden you with.”
“More secrets,” I mutter, bitterness rising in my throat. “Our whole family is built on them.”
I stand. “I can’t do this.” My feet run faster than my thoughts, even though I hear my family screaming my name behind me.
“Mackenzie, don’t do this!” I hear my Tía’s voice, grief heaving in her throat.
Footsteps crash behind me, gaining on me but I don’t look back. Strong arms wrap around me and I flail in their grasp.
“Stop, Mack.” My brother pants, breathlessly, “Stay, talk to us, please.”
“Now!?” I yell through my tears. “Now, you want to hear me!?” My legs give out, and we sink to the ground, his arms still tightly around me as tears wrack my body. “I’ve been screaming, my soul has been screaming, and neither have you heard me.”
“I’m listening now,” he whispers. “No tengas miedo, aqui estas salvo.”
For some reason, that makes me sob harder and he holds me until violent sobs stop, but the hole in my heart is bigger somehow. The last time I heard that phrase was from my lips. And even as I turn my head to see Cadence’s helpless face, I know where my story ends.
“I’m okay.” I say, but I'm sure my voice doesn’t convince either of them. Cadence drops to the tile in front of me, cupping my face. “I’m not,” I admit finally, the words raw on my tongue. “I haven’t been okay for a long time.”
The hospital hallway stretches around us, too bright and too sterile. We must look like a disaster—three broken pieces of a family huddled on the floor, crying and speaking Spanish in hushed tones while nurses step carefully around us.
“None of us are okay,” Cadence says, her thumb wiping a tear from my cheek. “But we have each other.”
I want to believe her. I want to feel anchored by their touch, by the concern in their eyes, but I’m still drifting.
The truth is, I’ve been thinking about my own exit for months now.
The bottle of pills hidden in my sock drawer.
The nights I’ve sat on my bathroom floor, turning them over in my palm, calculating how many it would take.
“I’ve felt the way Mami has for months.” I admit, the confession is like acid on my tongue. “I’ve had thoughts of…” I trail off.
Cadence’s fingers freeze against my cheek, and I watch her eyes widen with recognition. RJ’s grip on me tightens almost painfully.
“Mack…” His voice breaks on my name.
“I didn’t think anyone would notice,” I continue, the words tumbling out now that the dam has broken. “I’d just…disappear, and maybe you’d all be sad for a while, but then you’d go back to your lives.”
RJ shakes violently. “No. That’s not how it works. That’s not—”
“You don’t understand,” I cut him off. “Every day feels like drowning. Every single day. I have no dreams, no driving force anymore.” I look between them, desperate for them to comprehend the weight.
“All of this has been just me, just me and Mami. And you two couldn’t even bother to bat an eye.
So busy with your lives, too busy to stop every once in a while.
Do you know that Mami cried when I told her you would both come home?
” My eyes shift to RJ’s over my shoulder.
“By some dumb luck only Cadence showed.”
“Mack, I’m sorry.”