The Last Night

The way life goes around and days pass by is a beautiful thing. Even when each moment is exactly like the last one and nothing ever changes, learn how to love it, because having a boring life without excitement is much more pleasing than one day ruining your life as you know it.
Wednesday nights in my home were always the same; it was my night off from my crazy dance schedule when I could stay home and be with my family. I loved watching American Idol with my mom, dad, older brother and younger sister. We were your typical American family; we were nothing out of the ordinary. I was a competitive dancer and a freshman, my brother was a sophomore football player, my sister was a hyper seven-year-old, and my parents were your average working adults. As the days went on, each one the same as the last, I began to wonder if anything would ever change. Many times I thought about how each day for the next four years would be just like the day before it. Sometimes, thinking back on these thoughts, I blame myself for jinxing us. For jinxing our average family.
“Where is your brother, Samantha? Why won’t he answer his phone?” My mom questioned as any caring mother would.
“He is just at the YMCA, mom. He’ll be home soon, stop worrying.” I got annoyed at her very easily at times when she felt like asking a million questions. “I’m going to bed now, it’s getting late. See ya in the morning!” I headed up the carpeted stairs and down to the last room on the right-my bedroom. It was pink with brown polka dots on the walls, and it reminded me of my personality. I was bubbly and happy from the outside, but there were dark spots in my life that I shared with no one. This made my room seem more like a personal paradise. One of my favorite things to do was lie on my bed with my door locked and no one around to bother me, and in the silence, I would think.
As the alarm clock on my nightstand struck 10:04, I listened to the front door unlock and my brother enter our house. The next sound was from my mom’s mouth as she began to ask her questions again.
“Where were you? Why didn’t you answer your phone? You need to let me know where you’re going and when you’re going to be home from now on! Hand me your phone! If you’re not going to have it on when you leave the house, you might as well not have it at all.”
“I’m sorry, geez. Matt took me to the YMCA to work out for a little bit before football starts tomorrow, that’s all. No need to take my phone, it just died.” This was only the beginning of the nightmare that superseded all other nightmares, but it seemed like a harmless argument at first, so I kept to myself. My mom and my brother, Bryan, kept the disagreement alive much longer than they usually did. As I began worrying, I crawled under my covers and tried to block them out; nevertheless, my dad then woke from his deep sleep and went downstairs. The arguing started to sound more like a brawl of the lions than a human fight between two people.
“I hate this house, and this family! I’m sick of everyone telling me what to do. I’m 16 now; I think I should have a little more freedom, don’t you?! I’m walking down to Daniel’s house for the night, I can’t live here anymore. It’s about time I ditched all of you psycho people. Dad, you keep me from doing anything I wanna do; mom, you always start screaming and yelling at me for no reason and I’m tired of it; Sammi is ok, but she is my sister and I’m supposed to be annoyed with her; and Gina drives the crap out of me with her stupid noises and that she never shuts up! I can’t take this anymore!” Now Bryan was screaming and storming up the stairs. Before I knew it, hot tears streaked down my cheeks while silent sobs escaped my throat. The sound of Bryan throwing clothes into his backpack while he cried was torture. My body didn’t stray from the awkward position it was in. My mind raced with thoughts of how to halt this disaster, but I was still as stone. As the tension in the house grew palpable, my mom pounded up the stairs and told Bryan that he couldn’t leave, but it was of no use. I knew he had made up his mind.
“Bryan, don’t leave. It’s me, I’ll go. I’ll stay at a hotel tonight, just please don’t leave your sisters. I don’t care how much you hate them, they still love you. Don’t do this to them.” My mom pleaded. I had never heard like this, so upset and confused. Listening to her footsteps grow closer to my room, I opened my eyes and tried to jolt awake, but it wasn’t a nightmare. The pain was real.
When I felt the rush of my door swing open, I knew it was going to be a horrid night. My mom yanked open my closet and pulled out a khaki duffle to put her clothes in for the night before she paced out again. All the while I was sobbing uncontrollably.
“Is Sammi crying? Is she ok?” I never heard my brother so concerned about me.
“Of course she is crying, you’re tearing our family apart!” With that, my mother grabbed her belongings and left. I stared out my fogged window as she drove her silver van slowly off the driveway. Her face was filled with anguish and confusion, a mirror of my own looks. When she was nearly out of sight, I caught a glimpse of a tear as it slid down her hot red cheeks. My heart filled with excruciating pain as it started to crumble.
Rushing to my soft my pink blanket that lie on my bed, I let soft cries escape my lips. I gripped my stomach so hard that I left dents in my skin, but I didn’t notice. My other hand covered my face from the world. My whole body was shaking with sadness and wonder. Where is my life going now? Will my mom ever come back? Will she be ok? Is Bryan still leaving? I was overwhelmed with questions that were answerless. Just then, my dad and brother entered my room. I immediately sprung into my father’s open arms.
“Sam, this has nothing to with you, it was just an argument between Bryan and your mother. She’ll be back, we will work this out, but you need to get some sleep tonight, it’s already past midnight.” The words he spoke seemed to be comforting, but nothing registered in my head. Nothing anyone said could stop the anger and hurt that created a wall around me, holding me captive inside. It wouldn’t let me speak nor stray from my father’s arms. I felt like a different person, and as if someone else was controlling my actions.
“Sam,” Bryan muttered through his tears, “I love you, you know that right? This is just a hard time for me, and I need to get out of this house. I’ll only be down the block and I’ll see you at school, ok? You understand right?” The tough and strong brother I had always known disappeared. He was shattered into more pieces than I was. I needed him to stay more than ever that night, but I couldn’t stop him. He went downstairs to gather his stuff.
“It’s just a hard time right now, this will pass. Bry won’t listen to me, but go down and ask him to stay. Just try one more time.” This finally meant something to me and I sprinted to the door. As I threw it open, the wind turned my warm tears to icicles, and the sight of my brother standing at the edge of our driveway turned my heart to stone.
“Please, you don’t have to go! We love you so much! We can work something out, I promise! Just stay here one last night, I need you.”
“You know I love you, Sam, but I can’t stay here. This house is torturous. I’m sorry.” He took slow steps down the dark pathway until he was out of sight. I stood frozen in the doorway, with both hands gripping my stomach. I was hunched over and shaking, and the only sound I heard was my cries echoing off the walls surrounding me. When I felt warm hands around my waist, I turned to collapse into my dad’s arms again. I sobbed for what felt like hours until he pulled me back. His gray sweatshirt was stained black from the tears I couldn’t stop.
“Get some sleep, Sam, it’s the only thing you can do right now. Get some sleep and we will worry about it in the morning.” Suddenly, everything was out of my reach. I needed my bed, my room, my paradise. I shuffled up the stairs and into the last room on the right. I locked myself in. That was the very last thing I remember before I had the gun pointed at my face. My eyes locked shut as I touched my finger to the trigger. This was the last moment of my life as I knew it, and the first moment of my life as I needed it- dead.

Good.............................but not great.

What this is missing is less tell and more show. Right now, the older brother seems like a spoiled brat. I'm not understanding him. There's no good reason for him to leave, as far as I am concerned. Love the main character, Samantha. I can sympathize with her all the way until the end. Suicide. Don't Think So. I was just starting to like Sammy. She's too strong to go down like that. Maybe there'll be a part two. Continue this. I'm begging you. And remember, you don't have to write dialogue the same way we speak in real life. Really consider what your characters feel and how much of that should be revealed through words. Sometimes less is more. Also, a key element in a story is the reader's connection with the characters. Personally, I believe the reader should be in love with every single character, even the bad guys. So make sure your characters are likable. Right now all of them except Bryan are, so kudos!

This moved far too fast, especially the ending. Part of this has to do with how you told us everything Sam felt rather than showing us; the other part was how you didn't show the important build up to things, such as what lead Sam to kill herself. Right now, it comes completely out of the blue as there's no mention of her feeling that death is preferable to having her family being broken or anything. With such a drastic action, you have to show what leads a character to take that route versus a less drastic and more reasonable one, such as crying herself to sleep and hoping things are fixed in the morning, or something. There's nothing like this at the moment, and it makes her suicide completely unrealistic, like you wrote it in to be dramatic and not because it was the natural progression of events. Her suicide seem like a disproportionate reaction to this one-time event.

If you were to focus more on how the family being torn apart had been going on for a while, and how it was tearing at Sam, her suicide would be a bit more realistic.

I completely missed the suicide at the end, until I read the comments and went back.

I like this story a lot, but I think your biggest trouble is pacing. The beginning is a little rushed, and the poignancy of the ending just feels lost.

You might be well-served by going back and delving a little more deeply into the characters of the people in the household. It all seems just a little stilted to me, and some more emotion would benefit your story greatly. Maybe you could include more dialogue, that isn't meant to be purely expositional. What you have right now is mostly to help the reader key into what's going on. Although you've done a great job in that sense, it would be great if you could bring everything a little farther.

Bryan seems a little cliched to me. Just a tiny bit. And he underwent a sudden and drastic change in personality that is lost on us, because we don't have any baseline behaviors for him. Storming out of the house, and he's crying? Impulsive behaviors like running away don't tend to be accompanied by regret--not until much later. It startles me that he would go back and care for his sister at all, especially while he continues to leave (and his father is okay with this?)

The idea that Sam's mother leaves also has me tangled. Why would she leave? If she thinks the brother should stay "for his sisters," does she not think they need a mother? He leaves anyway. And to me, the idea of a teenager chasing a parent out of her own house is a little far-fetched.

But this is an interesting concept, definitely. I like it =)

Basically everything that needs to be said was already said. I like this story, but the end was too dramatic. Here's a few nitpicks:

“Where is your brother, Samantha? Why won’t he answer his phone?” My mom questioned as any caring mother would.

“He is just at the YMCA, mom. He’ll be home soon, stop worrying.” I got annoyed at her very easily at times when she felt like asking a million questions.

A teenager wouldn't think of how her mother's being caring and feel annoyed at the same time. It's contradictory. She'd only be annoyed.

she is my sister and I’m supposed to be annoyed with her

A teenager would not say this.

Overall, good job. Despite the plot problems, I enjoyed it. Also, you're new to YWS, so you probably don't know this: It's considered polite to review at least 3 works, before submitting your own. You'll probably want to start on that.