AND THEN THERE WERE NONE
a t r u e s t o r y
CHAPTER FIVE
By the time lunch came, I couldn't take school anymore. The teachers
were giving me so much work and barely any time to do it, and I was getting
tired of telling so many different people why I was gone.
So, I called my mom and had her pick me up.
Normally she wouldn't hear of it, but she was starting to understand the fact
that most times I look fine on the outside, but that doesn't mean I'm not blowing
up on the inside.
My parents and I went to Taco Bell, and later I collapsed into my bed, thinking
about my day.
Later that night, Josh called. "Hey babe," he said carefully.
"How was your day?"
I let out a rough sigh. "Do you really have to ask?"
"Well, did anyone seem happy to see you back?"
"Mark did a bit," I said quietly. I knew Josh wasn't too fond of him after he broke
my heart.
"Mark? I thought you were over him?" Josh groaned. "I don't want you to get
hurt. Not again."
"I won't," I concluded. "Anyways, other than that, my day was pretty upsetting."
"Why's that?"
"I swear, it just hit me today that I...comitted suicide and was in a hospital." My
voice started to shake, and tears began to sting behind my eyelids.
"Well, yeah, you did," Josh said. He sounded upset.
Josh and I talked a bit more, and I hung up the phone, still in a bad mood after
talking to my best friend. After they switched my medication at the hospital,
I just felt more numb than I was before. It had been fine for the first few days
that they switched me to Zoloft, but now I'm just back to where I was
before. Walking around in a daze 24/7, not feeling
anything. Things that should make me happy just didn't, and things that should
make me upset didn't either. And the truth is, I'd rather feel pain than
nothing at all.
But what can I do to make myself feel again? I briefly wondered myself.
As thoughts were racing through my head, I walked into the
bathroom and grabbed my shaving razor and a pair of scissors.
Sitting down on the toilet, I put the tip of the scissors in between the
blades of the razor and pushed, being careful to muffle the snap! of the plastic
around me. The razor blades fell to the floor around me, and I gently pulled up my
sleeve over my arm. I stared longingly at the healing wounds on my skin as I reached down
and picked up one of the thin razor blades.
The last thought I had was "I wish I had taken more pills instead of stopping like
a coward" and then I pushed the razor blade into my skin and pulled.
My skin instantly split open and blood started to pour from the cut and onto the floor.
"That's the deepest a razor blade has ever let me go," I murmured to myself.
The stinging subsided, but before putting the razor blade down, I did it again.
And again.
And again, and again, and again.
Soon, my wrist was covered in blood, and so were the fingers that were holding the
razor. I took in a deep breath, and the world around me became clear.
I smiled to myself, cleaned up the blood, and went to bed.
andthentherewerenone