Stupid Sadistic Suicidal

Suicidal: Scott

Suicidal: Scott

~

Tick Tock.

One minute went by.

Tick Tock.

Two.

Tick Tock.

Three.

I'm just waiting. I'm just waiting for my time to come.

Tick…

I stare at the clock. It’s broken. I should have known that, but do I really care? I walked numbly into the kitchen and look around the small place. For a neat freak, the kitchen sure is a mess. I remember when I would start cleaning while listening to some music. Then I would start dinner while I waited for him.

But now… now I don’t care.

I walked to the counter and opened one of the drawers. Everything is so neat. Spoons, forks, and knives are in their place. The big spoons and big knives lay next to the smaller utensils. Nothing is out of place… yet.

I grabbed the knife that haunted my dreams. The only knife that was sharp enough to cut through flesh until it hit the bone. The one he had given me for graduation from culinary school.

I had been waiting for my time, and as I bring the knife closer to my flesh, I know this is it. Weeks of tears and headaches, of sleep deprivation and heart ache, of begging and being rejected are finally over. I feel as the cold metal touches right above my wrist and I hesitate. I can feel as tears run down my cheeks. I can taste the saltiness of them as I close my eyes, clench my jaw, and push the fine point into my flesh.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered before everything went black.

The nightmare is always the same. The dark surrounds me. I can hear him calling my name, but I won’t turn around. I keep running toward the end of the road. I can’t remember his name, but something tells me ‘don’t stop’. He’s running towards me, begging me to let him explain. But I keep moving forward, running away from him. I hear what sounds like a truck backing up. I turn to see what that noise is and when I face ahead I’m about to run over the edge of the cliff, but then…

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

I wake up startled, sweating and shaking. The constant steady beep invaded my mind, making my head throb in pain. I try to clutch my head in my hands, but I can’t.

I could tell that I was in the hospital by the I.V hooked into my right hand. My left hand was lying by my side. I noticed then that my arms and legs were strapped to the railing of the bed. The ones around my wrists were loose enough but tight enough so I couldn’t slip out of them. The wrist was bandaged up and I winced when I tried to move it. I decided to look around instead. The sheets were crisp and clean. They were unwrinkled and folded back neatly. The T.V. was on but it was muted.

“Ah, you’re awake. Let me call the doctor.”

I turned to see a guy walk out of the room and then come back in with a doctor and two more nurses.

“Scott, I’m Dr. Brown, and it’s good to see you’ve woken up.” The doctor said with a small smile on his lips as he read over the chart in his hands. A nurse fiddled with the I.V. and I felt my body relax into the bed, the pain in my wrist became less and I sighed in relief. The first nurse took off unstrapped my legs and my right arm, while the other nurse unstrapped my left wrist and changed the bandage. As she pulled it off, I looked away. Tears pricked the corner of my eyes.