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CHAPTER 4: Don’t Go in There.  

  • Writer: David "Joe" Sanders
    David "Joe" Sanders
  • May 29
  • 5 min read

When Joe came in, there was only him and I in the room. Joe looked like he went into immediate shock. Before entering the room, Joe had been crying uncontrollably. The crying stopped short, as soon as he saw me laying there. I was half on the bed and half off. In an instant all of the color left Joe’s face. He looked like he was going to pass out.

I need to caution you that there are two paragraphs contained within this blog that graphically describe the scene of a suicide that was accomplished with a high-powered rifle shot to the head. Very graphic!



Marie was shrieking at the top of her lungs and trying to get out of the bedroom door. At the sound of the shot Joe had bolted out of the front door. Joe was headed to a friend’s house less than a minute away. The friend was an adult that our family had known for quite a while. He was also a recovering addict himself. He was well aware of how our house operated.

Marie was shrieking at the top of her lungs and trying to get out of the bedroom door. At the sound of the shot Joe had bolted out of the front door. Joe was headed to a friend’s house less than a minute away. The friend was an adult that our family had known for quite a while. He was also a recovering addict himself. He was well aware of how our house operated.

 

His house was a normal hideout for Joe when things got too wild for him here. This time things were way beyond wild. I had blown two-thirds of my head away. Chunks of skull, hair and brains were dripping on me from the under springs of our top bunk. The same kind of mess was scattered on the two walls in the corner behind me.


The room had suddenly become hotter, stickier and the surrounding odor was instantly putrid. Lynn would surely be sorry that she ever broke up with me now. People will believe me and pay attention from now on. Wow, what a mess and commotion this caused.

 

Within just a couple of minutes Joe was back with the neighbors. Marie had made it out of the room and was standing outside in the front yard. The neighbors with Joe stopped to comfort her. She was crying and speaking wildly at the same time. No one could understand a word she was saying. Her boyfriend was trying to hold onto her and calm the trembling that was shaking all the way through the both of them.

Within just a couple of minutes Joe was back with the neighbors. Marie had made it out of the room and was standing outside in the front yard. The neighbors with Joe stopped to comfort her. She was crying and speaking wildly at the same time. No one could understand a word she was saying. Her boyfriend was trying to hold onto her and calm the trembling that was shaking all the way through the both of them. At that same time, he saw Joe going through the front door of the house. He yelled at Joe to not go into the room. It was too late; there was no way Joe would not come in to help me; he did not have a clue what he was about to see.

 

When Joe came in, there was only him and I in the room. Joe looked like he went into immediate shock. Before entering the room, Joe had been crying uncontrollably. The crying stopped short, as soon as he saw me laying there. I was half on the bed and half off. In an instant all of the color left Joe’s face. He looked like he was going to pass out.


When Joe came in, there was only him and I in the room. Joe looked like he went into immediate shock. Before entering the room, Joe had been crying uncontrollably. The crying stopped short, as soon as he saw me laying there. I was half on the bed and half off. In an instant all of the color left Joe’s face. He looked like he was going to pass out.

I tried to sit up, to tell him everything was going to be okay, but I couldn’t control my body’s jerking or the noise that was once my voice. The control center was gone. There was no way the contents of my head could be replaced. It was too late for me to assure Joe that everything was okay, because I knew everything wasn’t okay. I knew that even if I could talk for just a second, I wouldn’t know what to say. How would I survive this disaster? How would I ever get Lynn back now?

 



Dad was going to really be pissed off. The police would now be extremely into our business. I

wondered what mom would think when she heard that I had really done this. It was about time that I finally accomplished the suicide they all expected. I know Joe was hurt tonight. What a mess.

 

What should I do now? What could I do now? This is a lot worse than I thought. This is a lot worse than I ever imagined it could be. I had heard about a lot of suicides. Even other people shooting themselves in the head, but I had never heard about anything like this.

 

Chunks of warm goo that used to be brains, mixed with skull bone fragments and hair were still dripping down on me from the springs on the underside of the top bunk. My skin tone was already much whiter than normal because the blood that used to be in my body was now soaking into the bed and pooling up on the floor. I don’t think anyone can help me now. I can’t even tell it’s me laying down there in that mess.

 

This isn’t really what I wanted. At least this will surely convince them that I really need help, but I think it may be too late for help now. Oh well, I’ll fix it somehow. I have always been able to fix it before, why should this time be different? The perfect opportunity to fix this is standing right in front of me.

 

Note: The answer to a question I have received many times but is not contained within this chapter of the book. Did your family live in the house after the suicide?

The answer is no, none of my family ever spent another night in this house. To my knowledge none of my family members ever went back inside, with two exceptions. Two of my uncles cleaned up the house and moved our possessions out of there the following day. In 1968 there were no companies you could call upon to do biological waste clean-up, that kind of stuff was left up to the family to take care of.

The other exception to a family member entering the house was almost 36 years later, while I was in the middle of researching and writing the book. On March 3, 2004, I flew to Southern California and managed to talk the family living there at the time into letting me go into the bedroom. As silly as that sounds. I had a desperate need to put some ghosts to rest for myself. Not wanting to scare the current residents, I explained to them that we had lived there in 1968 and that my brother had since passed away and that the bedroom held a ton of memories for me. They were kind enough to welcome me inside.

 


**Reach out to me at any time.  I am not only willing, but I also look forward to taking a share of your pain. Email: David@bondedabrotherslove.com. You will get a caring same day response. Nothing scripted.  You are not alone, and you matter.

**Reach out to me at any time. 


I am not only willing, but I also look forward to taking a share of your pain.




Email: David@bondedabrotherslove.com. You will get a caring same day response.


Nothing scripted. 

 

You are not alone, and you matter.



If You’re Struggling If you or someone you love or know is in a dark place, please know you’re not alone and there is help available. Reaching out is a sign of strength, not weakness. There are people ready to listen, ready to walk with you, and ready to help. Immediate assistance is available: National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline   📞 988 Veterans Crisis Line   📞 1-800-273-8255 (Press 1) | 📱 Text 838255 Survivor Support / Crisis Group   🌐 https://www.crisishotline.org  📞 832-416-1177

If You’re Struggling

If you or someone you love or know is in a dark place, please know you’re not alone and there is help available. Reaching out is a sign of strength, not weakness. There are people ready to listen, ready to walk with you, and ready to help.

Immediate assistance is available:


National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline  

📞 988


Veterans Crisis Line  

📞 1-800-273-8255 (Press 1) | 📱 Text 838255


Survivor Support / Crisis Group  

🌐 https://www.crisishotline.org  📞 832-416-1177

 


💡 If you know someone who needs to hear that they are not alone, share this story. Together, we can create echoes of hope that outlast the pain.


Bonded: A Brother’s Love — One Bullet. A Thousand Echoes.This book is more than my story. It is a voice for every family devastated by suicide and a lifeline for those standing at the edge of despair. My hope is that it reaches the one who needs it most. If even one person chooses life because of it, then every tear and every word will have been worth it. 📖 Order your copy today : https://tinyurl.com/3h87mjy6 and join me in breaking the silence. Together we can spread hope, honor the lost, and change the future.

For more than five decades, I carried this story in silence. Silence nearly broke me, but telling it is what keeps hope alive.


Bonded: A Brother’s Love : One Bullet. A Thousand Echoes my hope is that it offers understanding, connection, and even a reason to hold on when life feels unbearable.



📖 Order your copy today and join me in breaking the silence. Together we can spread hope, honor the lost, and change the future.


For more than five decades, I carried this story in silence. Silence nearly broke me, but telling it is what keeps hope alive. Bonded: A Brother’s Love : One Bullet. A Thousand Echoes my hope is that it offers understanding, connection, and even a reason to hold on when life feels unbearable. 📖 Order your copy today and join me in breaking the silence. Together we can spread hope, honor the lost, and change the future.

 
 
 

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