Status: Working on it (:
One More Try
I don't want to live.
She hadn’t felt this good in a while. The wanting had never left; she only attempted to hide it from herself. It worked for a while but was now past history.
The blood poured from the vertical cut across her wrist, but it didn’t stop her. She kept cutting the same place over and over, hoping to eventually slice the vein open. She wanted to die. She wanted to die more than anything.
She didn’t care if it hurt anyone but seriously doubted it would. No one cared about her. Her mom never spoke to her other than to yell at her. Her father was an alcoholic whom she hadn’t seen in ages. Her siblings were all grown up with their own families to worry about.
The red blood gushed from her wrist even more. It was forming a giant pool on pillow she had placed under her left arm. It didn’t matter anymore. She wouldn’t have to hide this stain. She’d be dead before the morning.
She continued slicing the flesh; the endorphins clouding her mind. She knew what she had to get done though. She put down the razor blade long enough to grab the bottle of Tylenol lying beside her. She had already taken off the cap knowing that it would be nearly impossible to get it off with the amount of blood that would be gushing out of her body.
She tipped the bottle over her mouth and swallowed as many as she could with the saliva in her mouth. She licked blood off her arm to help her swallow the rest. In less than 2 minutes, she had taken over 40 Tylenol.
Death was her goal that night. No more suffering; no more pain. A combination of losing an enormous amount of blood and putting a large amount of acetaminophen in her system was supposed to kill her. She was supposed to kill herself.
But something went wrong. It was something of a miracle.
The blood poured from the vertical cut across her wrist, but it didn’t stop her. She kept cutting the same place over and over, hoping to eventually slice the vein open. She wanted to die. She wanted to die more than anything.
She didn’t care if it hurt anyone but seriously doubted it would. No one cared about her. Her mom never spoke to her other than to yell at her. Her father was an alcoholic whom she hadn’t seen in ages. Her siblings were all grown up with their own families to worry about.
The red blood gushed from her wrist even more. It was forming a giant pool on pillow she had placed under her left arm. It didn’t matter anymore. She wouldn’t have to hide this stain. She’d be dead before the morning.
She continued slicing the flesh; the endorphins clouding her mind. She knew what she had to get done though. She put down the razor blade long enough to grab the bottle of Tylenol lying beside her. She had already taken off the cap knowing that it would be nearly impossible to get it off with the amount of blood that would be gushing out of her body.
She tipped the bottle over her mouth and swallowed as many as she could with the saliva in her mouth. She licked blood off her arm to help her swallow the rest. In less than 2 minutes, she had taken over 40 Tylenol.
Death was her goal that night. No more suffering; no more pain. A combination of losing an enormous amount of blood and putting a large amount of acetaminophen in her system was supposed to kill her. She was supposed to kill herself.
But something went wrong. It was something of a miracle.
♠ ♠ ♠
I've written the first three chapters of this story. I think it's a little weird, but I'm just going with the flow. Let me know what you think! And it gets better, I promise. (: