Fiction
May 20th, 2012, 04:27 PM
I wrote this on the 4th of December. I only just found it again. Although I wrote it before my suicide attempt in January, it honestly couldn't explain it more accurately if I tried... Any comments or criticism are very welcome :)
I hurried along the quiet street, desperate for the refuge that the hall light would bring. My eyes began to burn as I hurried faster, using my hair to shield my face from passers-by. I had no intentions of being noticed, or talking to anyone. I just wanted to disappear. I wasn’t the Karen my neighbours all used to know and I had no desire for them to meet the new one. My mind raced despite my music blaring loudly in my ears, in an attempt to stifle the thoughts. They where back and I couldn’t escape them no matter how hard I tried.
I took out my keys and turned the key in lock. The large oak door opened. This door has been a symbol of being home ever since I was little. I felt a tear begin to fall, as I realised that no where felt like home anymore, not now he was gone. I quickly slammed the door behind me, I was finally alone. My eyes closed as the tears began to fall faster now. My body felt no longer able to function. I dropped to the floor, with my back against the door. Was this amount of pain even possible? These thoughts bringing tears flooding back, as my hand covered my mouth to stifle the noise that I could no longer control. I looked towards the ceiling, and began praying to a God that I’d never really believed in. “Please” I muttered, desperate for anything that could end this pain.
A shock of anger pulsated through my body, cutting through the numbness. I wasn’t sure what the anger was at, Jack? Or the world for not noticing? Of course I knew really, it was at myself. It was at myself for letting him do it. I could have stopped it, but I didn’t. My hands clenched into a fist as in one involuntary movement, my fists hit the door behind me. They began to bleed, as my mind thrived on the pain, and began to think again. It was all my fault. I should have pulled him back. I should have said sorry. But I hadn’t. And now he was dead.
My thoughts seem to almost overflow my mind, as I began muttering to myself. Repeating over and over again “Why aren’t you dead? You deserve to be fucking dead, you fucking coward.” The anger and the pain gave me enough energy to stand up and run to my room. My tone increased in aggression as I began to use my nails to scratch at an arm, already too scarred to count.
I stood in front of my mirror, displaying an image of myself, but an image that I barely recognised anymore. My make-up stained face looked somehow paler and thinner. My eyes welled up as I stared at this reflection, remembering the time only a few weeks ago when I had been looking at myself happy, and in Jack’s arms. That was just a memory now, a memory that had been replaced with just the harsh flashbacks of his last moments. I had become just a lifeless girl, nothing more than an empty shell, seemingly void of emotion.
I stared into the unrecognisable eyes of the the girl in the mirror, and began to repeat my accusations again. I was slower this time, forming each word carefully, to ensure that I could understand. “This could end; you know exactly what to do. You’re worthless anyway. You break everything you touch. They’re better off without you Karen.”
I was tired, my eyes glanced to my bottom drawer, where buried, there lay everything I needed. I put my hand to my head and began to pull at my hair, a vain attempt to stop the thoughts. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted anymore. Well, I knew what I wanted. I wanted him back, but that was something I would never have.
I crawled along my floor to the drawer, and my arm reached out. I slowly opened it, and rummaged in the back right under corner. Buried under hats, scarves, gloves and various other items of clothing, I pulled out a small bag.
Inside this bag, was everything I needed. Sixty. Sixty small white pills. I poured the contents of the bag out on to my bedroom floor. I tried to concentrate my mind on nothing but what was in front of me. Nothing but the fact that this would be the end, but I couldn’t stop my mind from showing me things I didn’t want to see. The thought where coming and going fast, as though forcing me to do this. His face, him jumping, how I didn’t stop him, and watching him hit the ground.
I sat and stared at the pills, and began counting. I used my ring finger to slide the pills from side to side. “Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty” I said out loud. There was enough. I collected the pills in one hand, and walked over to the mirror.
He was there. He was behind me, blood was seeping from his head, and he stood there, limp almost. I turned around to see him properly, but he wasn’t there. I turned back to the mirror and he had disappeared. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him since he’d gone. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him like that.
I stared at myself, and at the contents of my hand. I watched my other hand reach for the pills, and slowly bring them up to my mouth. All uncertainties where gone now. His face and the events of that night where still flashing behind my eyes, and my reflection stared back at me accusingly, reminding me it had all been my fault. My hands moved faster as I became more and more convinced that this was what she deserved and what she wanted. I began to swallow them three at a time, wishing to be dead as soon as I could be, although knowing I had hours left.
The last one. I stopped for a second and looked down at it, and back at my reflection. Slower this time I lifted it to my mouth, and swallowed. A tear began to fall as I reassured myself, it all stops soon.
I hurried along the quiet street, desperate for the refuge that the hall light would bring. My eyes began to burn as I hurried faster, using my hair to shield my face from passers-by. I had no intentions of being noticed, or talking to anyone. I just wanted to disappear. I wasn’t the Karen my neighbours all used to know and I had no desire for them to meet the new one. My mind raced despite my music blaring loudly in my ears, in an attempt to stifle the thoughts. They where back and I couldn’t escape them no matter how hard I tried.
I took out my keys and turned the key in lock. The large oak door opened. This door has been a symbol of being home ever since I was little. I felt a tear begin to fall, as I realised that no where felt like home anymore, not now he was gone. I quickly slammed the door behind me, I was finally alone. My eyes closed as the tears began to fall faster now. My body felt no longer able to function. I dropped to the floor, with my back against the door. Was this amount of pain even possible? These thoughts bringing tears flooding back, as my hand covered my mouth to stifle the noise that I could no longer control. I looked towards the ceiling, and began praying to a God that I’d never really believed in. “Please” I muttered, desperate for anything that could end this pain.
A shock of anger pulsated through my body, cutting through the numbness. I wasn’t sure what the anger was at, Jack? Or the world for not noticing? Of course I knew really, it was at myself. It was at myself for letting him do it. I could have stopped it, but I didn’t. My hands clenched into a fist as in one involuntary movement, my fists hit the door behind me. They began to bleed, as my mind thrived on the pain, and began to think again. It was all my fault. I should have pulled him back. I should have said sorry. But I hadn’t. And now he was dead.
My thoughts seem to almost overflow my mind, as I began muttering to myself. Repeating over and over again “Why aren’t you dead? You deserve to be fucking dead, you fucking coward.” The anger and the pain gave me enough energy to stand up and run to my room. My tone increased in aggression as I began to use my nails to scratch at an arm, already too scarred to count.
I stood in front of my mirror, displaying an image of myself, but an image that I barely recognised anymore. My make-up stained face looked somehow paler and thinner. My eyes welled up as I stared at this reflection, remembering the time only a few weeks ago when I had been looking at myself happy, and in Jack’s arms. That was just a memory now, a memory that had been replaced with just the harsh flashbacks of his last moments. I had become just a lifeless girl, nothing more than an empty shell, seemingly void of emotion.
I stared into the unrecognisable eyes of the the girl in the mirror, and began to repeat my accusations again. I was slower this time, forming each word carefully, to ensure that I could understand. “This could end; you know exactly what to do. You’re worthless anyway. You break everything you touch. They’re better off without you Karen.”
I was tired, my eyes glanced to my bottom drawer, where buried, there lay everything I needed. I put my hand to my head and began to pull at my hair, a vain attempt to stop the thoughts. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted anymore. Well, I knew what I wanted. I wanted him back, but that was something I would never have.
I crawled along my floor to the drawer, and my arm reached out. I slowly opened it, and rummaged in the back right under corner. Buried under hats, scarves, gloves and various other items of clothing, I pulled out a small bag.
Inside this bag, was everything I needed. Sixty. Sixty small white pills. I poured the contents of the bag out on to my bedroom floor. I tried to concentrate my mind on nothing but what was in front of me. Nothing but the fact that this would be the end, but I couldn’t stop my mind from showing me things I didn’t want to see. The thought where coming and going fast, as though forcing me to do this. His face, him jumping, how I didn’t stop him, and watching him hit the ground.
I sat and stared at the pills, and began counting. I used my ring finger to slide the pills from side to side. “Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty” I said out loud. There was enough. I collected the pills in one hand, and walked over to the mirror.
He was there. He was behind me, blood was seeping from his head, and he stood there, limp almost. I turned around to see him properly, but he wasn’t there. I turned back to the mirror and he had disappeared. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him since he’d gone. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him like that.
I stared at myself, and at the contents of my hand. I watched my other hand reach for the pills, and slowly bring them up to my mouth. All uncertainties where gone now. His face and the events of that night where still flashing behind my eyes, and my reflection stared back at me accusingly, reminding me it had all been my fault. My hands moved faster as I became more and more convinced that this was what she deserved and what she wanted. I began to swallow them three at a time, wishing to be dead as soon as I could be, although knowing I had hours left.
The last one. I stopped for a second and looked down at it, and back at my reflection. Slower this time I lifted it to my mouth, and swallowed. A tear began to fall as I reassured myself, it all stops soon.