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My eyes opened slightly, trying to think about what he had just said. I had to have misheard. This whole thing was probably part of how much blood I'd lost. I was delusional. That had to be the answer.

Brendon didn't love me. And who could blame him? I didn't even love me.

I was exhausted. That was why I was hearing things. And I was making an even bigger fool of myself for thinking that he would have ever loved me. What chance did I have with Brendon, especially after what had happened? He didn't want anything to do with me.

His hand was closed in mine, and there was nothing I wanted more to have died. What was this trip to the hospital supposed to prove? I had a life left to live? I wasn't convinced. I had no reason to still be here.

None.

Nothing.

I wanted to kill myself for a reason. Because I was worthless, I had nothing left for me.

--

At some point I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, Jon and Ryan were back in the room. Brendon was still sitting next to me, looking up at a doctor. When everyone noticed I was awake, it grew silent. Fast.

"Lacey, good, you're up. How are you doing?" The doctor asked. His voice seemed kind and understanding, but behind his eyes, there was more emotion he wasn't allowed to express, in fear of scaring me, I'd presume.

I didn't respond, because I was sure "disappointed" wasn't the answer they were looking for.

At a small glance down at my body, I saw that my wrist was wrapped up in bandages. There were small red splotches peaking through. I saw Ryan looking the same place.

Once it was clear I wasn't going to say anything, the doctor spoke again. "Your friends have decided that it would be best if you weren't left alone. You're going to be staying with your friend Brendon once you're ready to be up and moving around, which I think we're going to be holding off on, because when you passed out, you got a pretty big gash on your right temple," he explained, pointing to his own, as if it would help me.

But there was only one thing I got from that conversation, and it was the fact I was staying with Brendon. He would probably have plenty to say about how disappointed he was that I didn't die too. Or comments about how I was stupid for even trying such a thing. Selfish, even.

I wasn't looking forward to it. Not at all.

The doctor continued, this time looking at the guys. "Therapy would probably be in her best interest, to get whatever is going on sorted through her head."

"Therapy, don't you think-"

Jon started to speak, but was cut off by the doctor, who I was beginning to dislike more and more. "Attempted suicide is a serious matter. And from what you all have said, it's not like this is something new. It's a problem that should be taken care by a professional."

I didn't need any help. I wouldn't be a problem if they would have just let me lay there in my own blood. Had Ryan waited a few more minutes, I would probably be gone. Out of the way forever. No one's problem.

"Who do you recommend?" Ryan spoke up.

"I have a few psychiatrists that I could recommend," the doctor responded.

"We just want to make sure this doesn't happen again." He glanced in my direction, but I knew I could make no promises.

What did they expect? Did they think taking away my freedom would want to make me live again? They knew I was miserable in this life, and why could they blame me? I had nothing going for myself. They knew how unhappy I was I hadn't succeeded. They just wanted to prove that there still was something to live for.

Like what? What did I have waiting for me? The only thing I could have ever wanted was for Brendon to love me, and that only happened in my best delusions.