Bloody Beginning, Still Depressing Ending
Prologue Pt. 2
I get up, slowly walking towards my dresser. But first, I think: Was I really in for this? Was I meant to be dead?
And I silently answer these questions with a sullen, small "Yes."
FAST FORWARD THREE MINUTES:
I continue walking towards my dresser. A small alarm starts to go off in my head: Irina, don´t do this.
But I continue walking.
Halfway there, the mental alarm gets louder by three, maybe four, decibels. Irina, don´t do this, it once again reminds me. But do I pay any attention, and I continue with my walk.
When I arrive at my dresser, I sigh. Then, I precariously open the top drawer. Irina, don´t do this, Irina, don´t do this. But do I pay any attention, once again? No.
I reach into the drawer, search around for a few minutes, then I find what i am looking for: my knife. I push the button ; the blade clicks up, the alarm still going off.
I run my fingers over the smooth, metal texture of the blade, then the coarse rubber of the handle. I close my eyes, my breath getting heavier by the nanosecond.
Were you really made to amount to what you are now? I think. Were you? Are you just okay, deep down inside?
Then, a little voice in my head responds for me.
No! Of course she´s not O-fucking-K!
I roll my eyes, and bring the blade down on my wrist
And I silently answer these questions with a sullen, small "Yes."
FAST FORWARD THREE MINUTES:
I continue walking towards my dresser. A small alarm starts to go off in my head: Irina, don´t do this.
But I continue walking.
Halfway there, the mental alarm gets louder by three, maybe four, decibels. Irina, don´t do this, it once again reminds me. But do I pay any attention, and I continue with my walk.
When I arrive at my dresser, I sigh. Then, I precariously open the top drawer. Irina, don´t do this, Irina, don´t do this. But do I pay any attention, once again? No.
I reach into the drawer, search around for a few minutes, then I find what i am looking for: my knife. I push the button ; the blade clicks up, the alarm still going off.
I run my fingers over the smooth, metal texture of the blade, then the coarse rubber of the handle. I close my eyes, my breath getting heavier by the nanosecond.
Were you really made to amount to what you are now? I think. Were you? Are you just okay, deep down inside?
Then, a little voice in my head responds for me.
No! Of course she´s not O-fucking-K!
I roll my eyes, and bring the blade down on my wrist