The first woman was Cynthia. It's important to know that Cynthia gave birth to me, but please do not think of her as my mother. Surely it would kill her over and over again if she were to be called like that again. I now only wish for her to rest in peace. Cynthia, Father, and I lived in a trailer park. We lived closely packed in under a large oak tree with two other trailers. The people who lived in those two trailers were kind, even though we were not. Our group was loud and messy, my father was a drunk and Cynthia had little self-awareness. Cynthia wasn't always around, she often stayed with her sister due to my fathers disposition but during the nights Cynthia was there you could often hear her scream and cry while she shielded me from being hit. She was a kind, stupid, and unlucky woman. I guess kind, stupid, unlucky women deserve to be regretful enough to hang themselves where everyone could see.

I remember on the night she killed herself she still thought about what was best for me. She thought about the last option and what my pathetic life would eventually lead to. She wasn't wrong, she was just trying to speed up the process. That night, Dad wasn't home. I didn't find out until later that he was at my older cousin's house. Fucking her for a few free bottles of liquor and a warm home to sleep in for a night. I can't blame him, I would do the same thing that old bastard did if it meant someone would give me warm breakfast in the morning. Cynthia made jello for dinner on that night, it was made perfectly. The only thing she could make, and it was made perfectly. She was happy I liked it and asked me if I wanted to play outside before bed. Cynthia rarely played with me, so I took her up on that offer and went to grab my ball but before I grabbed it she yanked on my arm and told me she didn't want to play with the ball. When I asked her what we should play she thought a moment before deciding on a game of tag. Sounded perfect to me, I could hide in the shadows under the oak tree and she wouldn't be able to see me.

To a seven-year-old, nothing seemed out of place. So we played tag until I tripped over a small rock that was in my path and hit my knee. There was no blood, nothing, I wasn't even crying but Cynthia was immediately right there next to me to aid me in standing up. She grabbed both my arms and lifted me into her embrace, telling me how much she loved me and that she was glad I wasn't hurt. After she snuggled me she went inside to grab a chair, there was only one outside, and she placed it under a large branch in the oak tree. Cynthia handed me a wire and told me to do the same with the other chair. So I stood up on the chair and listened to everything her voice told me to do. The sun had gone down and it was difficult to see, so it was hard to tie the wire around the lowest branch in the oak tree, but I still did it without complaining. I was happy Cynthia looked like she was having fun, and felt bad that I made her so upset when I fell over. So I tied it nicely and followed the next steps as Cynthia told me. I tied it around my neck and wondered if we were pretending to be dogs. Cynthia told me she loved me over and over that night. She kept telling me that I meant the world to her and that everything she did was for my sake. Though, this was nothing new so I just kept telling her I loved her too and continued to play.

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After I said I loved her too for the last time she kicked the white chair out from under me. I felt the back of the dirty, white, lawn chair hit my calves. I stayed there for a moment, dangling. Everything in that moment felt slower. I saw the kitchen tables chair Cynthia was standing on fall over in front of her. I didn't see her though, she was just slightly out of my vision. Then the pain hit. The pain of the small cord wrapped around my neck. So I kicked and screamed and even though there was only a little coughing noise I continued to scream. But because I wrapped the wire myself it came undone. I fell to the ground, landing on the flipped lawn chair and hurting my butt. I gasped for air, coughing uncontrollably as I held my neck. Laying on my back, I saw Cynthia. Cynthia started to struggle as I had, kicking and coughing all while looking at me crying on the ground. She kicked and struggled until every last bit of air had left her lungs, and ironically, ironically the wire broke. It broke and she fell to the ground, hitting her head hard on the same rock I had tripped over earlier when playing tag. Her head hit and I heard the pop. The pop of her head splitting open. The pop of a beautiful life being taken. Blood seeped out onto the rock and I screamed as loud as I could. Cynthia looked at me as I screamed, but by then she was dead. She was most definitely dead. Her eyes showed no recognition and her lovely face was not screaming nor crying out in pain. She lay there beautifully as I cried and screamed. The neighbors had heard me scream, I'm almost sure everyone in the trailer park heard me scream. The wire, still tied around my neck was loose and I didn't even notice the pain that was still in my neck. I cried out for my beautiful mother. My mother that I would never call a mother. The mother that had wanted to walk me to a better place herself. The mother that loved me with all her heart but still didn't care enough to see what I would have become.

Everyone would tell me it wasn't my fault. For a while, I blamed my father. Now, I'm ready to admit it. I killed Cynthia. I did nothing as she struggled. I watched her suffer and I couldn't scream for help. I didn't look for help. I murdered her by doing nothing. I murdered her by not moving the rock. Her blood is in my hands. Whether you want me to admit it or not. I hung my mother in the beautiful oak tree. I tied the knot and watched her suffer in silence. Goodbye, Cynthia. See you soon.