Here's something I began like five months ago. I don't know if I should develop it into a full on story yet, so I thought I'd post it here to see if I should. So, comment, vote, and give me your opinion. Thanks.
- Lex
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“Dean,” a voice said from outside of my apartment door.
I didn’t move a muscle or make the slightest sound. I was absolutely quiet, not responding. Maybe she’d go away then.
I felt my eyes shutting, as I sat in the tub. I was drifting in and out of consciousness. Everything was getting foggy now. My lips were dry and my body was becoming weak. I was slowly drifting into a stupor. This was peaceful. It wasn’t painful at all.
My eyes drifted into the water of the tub, as I stared at my own reflection. My, cracked lips, shaggy hair, and dull sullen eyes stared back up at me. It taunted me. We stared at each other until my eyelids grew heavy.
Her voice was muffled now. I could barely understand her. I could however, hear her banging on the door, but it wasn’t loud anymore. It was growing soft now and fading into the back of my mind. I could barely hear a sound. All that was left was silence.
“Dean,” she said again. “I know you’re in there. Your car is here and your landlord said that you were. Dean!”
Her voice was worried now. I sunk lower into the bath tub, as I heard the sound of my apartment door open. The last thing I remember was the being underwater, and then everything after that was black.
I awoke to find myself in a white room. I sat up slowly, taking in the scene all at once. I was in the hospital again. I sighed as I rubbed my eyes. Carrie was sitting in a chair beside me. She must have found me again.
“Good morning,” Carrie said as she took a sip from her Dunkin Donuts coffee cup. “Dean – you scared me last night. I thought I lost you this time.”
“Carrie,” I rasped, as I licked the dryness off my lips. She passed me a cup of water, as I glanced at the IV on my arm.
“Don’t Carrie me!” she groaned. “Dean! You have got to stop doing this to yourself. This is the second time that I’ve found you.”
“Stop finding me,” I groaned as my face fell against my pillow. “Why can’t you just let me go?”
“Because Dean,” Carrie said sighing. “I love you. You and I both know that this isn’t the answer to your problems. You failed both times, shouldn’t that tell you something?”
“Don’t,” I huffed as I ran my fingers through my hair.
“You have a lot to live for Dean,” Carrie said quietly. “You may not see it now but you do. You’re only twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five living out a death sentence,” I mumbled underneath my breath.
“You’re just going to end up institutionalized,” she retorted. “Haven’t you been going to therapy? Have you even been taking your medication?”
I went silent as I flicked the television on. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. The more I talked about it, the angrier I became.
My life turned upside down when I was twenty four. That was the worst year of my life. It was the year that I became emotionally unstable. I was depressed. I didn’t eat, sleep or speak to anyone. I went to work and then straight home. There were no stops. I was lost. The only person who stuck around was Carrie. She would visit me as often as possible eventually making a key for herself. She didn’t trust me anymore. I attempted suicide twice that year – unsuccessfully. She made it just in time - every single attempt. The first time I slit my wrists. The second, I overdosed on sleeping pills.
