Regrets

Chapter Three

I guess it ends here. Everything I've ever known. Love, sadness, family... hope. I guess it's gone. I guess... this is the end. Thank God Elaine left yesterday. She'd be flipping out right now. I stare down at my hand full of pills and smile. I think I might finally be happy. Maybe. . . just maybe. I mean, what is death? An escape? Or an entrance?

I pick up the first pill and pop it in my mouth. Take a drink of water. Swallow.

I begin writing a suicide note even though I'm only one pill in:

I'm sorry to whoever this note may concern.

Vodka! That's what I need.

I stand up and run to the kitchen. I raid the cabinets.

"Ah!" I exclaim when I find the ever so tasty alcoholic beverage. Straight vodka. This ought to be fun.

I go sit back down, and I take the second pill and place it perfectly on my tongue. I take a swig of vodka and swallow. I wince at the strength of it.

I go back to my note:

This isn't easy for me. Life, I mean. It's harder than you can imagine. I'm left with nothing. Nothing. And that's what I am as well, nothing. Ha. And you all thought you could save me.

I take the third and fourth pill. Put them at the back of my throat and swallow with my the alcohol. Then I take another big gulp of my vodka, washing down the taste with my water.

I take two more pills and repeat this action. Then again. And again. And again, until I have forty pills down. My vision is blurring, not sure if it's from the alcohol or maybe my attempt is working. Please be working. I re-read my note, that's very blurry and probably not understandable. Oh well. No one's going to bother to read it anyway.

I'm sorry to whoever this note may concern. This isn't easy for me. Life, I mean. It's harder than you can imagine. I'm left with nothing. Nothing. And that's what I am as well, nothing. Ha. And you all thought you could save me. Too bad I'm already more than ten pills in. No one has knocked on my door. No one has called. I'm alone, obviously. Don't worry though. I'll be happy now. So you should be too. Don't cry over me. Don't give me a funeral. Don't even bury me. Just cremate me. I'm not worth it. In fact, I'm quite worthless. I'm now more than thirty pills in. Don't tell me you miss me. I'm gone. Too far gone to turn back now. You and I both know I died long ago. Forty pills. Goodbye. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. I'll try and do better in hell. I hope you can be happy now that I'm gone.

-Taylor

I drink the last quarter of my vodka and unsteadily get up to grab the whiskey. I hold myself up by the counter. I think I'm going to succeed. I think. . . I think I'm actually going to die.

The noise my iPod makes scares me. My vision is too blurred with tears and alcohol and pills to make out the name at first. All I'm able to make out is that it's a KIK message.

Can we talk?

I blink. I blink again, and now I can make the name out. Colton. No, no, no, no. I run to the bathroom and throw up everything. The I regret it. I was so close! I could have been happy! Why the hell did I just do that? He's probably just telling me goodbye again and gonna make me feel like even more shit. God dammit. And now I'm out of pills.

As gross as it sounds I'm tempted to eat my own vomit. If only that worked. Just have to stash up again. I wipe my face, splash my bloodshot eyes with water and make my way back to my iPod. My vision hasn't cleared any. I might still die tonight.

Me: Sure. Make it fast though. I'm uhm. . . busy.

He replies almost instantly.

Colton: Oh. . . doing what? It's four in the morning? He starts typing again. Never mind. Not important. Look, I was a total ass yesterday. I know.

Oh my god. Is he apologizing? Play it cool, Taylor.

Me: Yep.

Colton: But I need you back. . .

Did I read that right? No he doesn't. He's just gonna hurt me. But I miss him, god do I miss him. I can't reply. I just need to take more pills, but I don't have any. My knees are buckling.

Me: No you don't.

I want him to fight for me.

Colton: You don't even know, Taylor. Don't you want to be friends? You said yourself yesterday that you missed me.

Me: Yesterday, Colton. No, I don't want to be friends. I wanted to be more than that. And you just. . . you left!

Now it's my turn to be the bitch. Minutes that feel like hours pass until he replies. My vision is getting increasingly more blurred. My head hurts. I swallow the lump in my throat.

Colton: Meet me at our old spot. Behind the high school. In the woods. Now, please.

Me: I can't drive. I've been drinking...

Colton: Then I'm coming to get you. I need to talk to you. In person. Be ready.

I want to scream at him. I told him no! I don't want to see him. I'm doing good. So good. So fucking good at not taking him back and he has to come get me? NO!

I get up anyway, of course I do. I'd do anything for him. I put on jeans to cover up my cuts, and I put on a sweatshirt to keep the cold out. I put my hair up in a messy bun and don't bother with makeup. It's four in the morning, after all.

It's only been twenty minutes when there's a knock at my door. My stomach does cartwheels. And then falls off a cliff. Along with my mind. But my heart stays. It's the only thing I can care with him for.

I answer the door sloppily, leaning against it as my hangover sets in early. My head pounds, I feel like I'm going to get sick, I think... I think...

"Taylor?" Is all I hear before everything around me is gone.