101 Psychos

#26 - Suicide Pact

Psycho #26 - Suicide Pact -

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A Tale of Chronic Dysfunction Bereavement:

Refers to a prolonged mental state that can occur if one does not undergo the correct grieving steps after the loss of a loved one. Without the proper closer and acceptance, the individual can experience emotional suffering and inability to properly function within society, usually lasting several years or longer.

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I sat in a circle with my new found friends in one of their bedrooms. The room was dim, but the pink of the walls shown through the dark. We all met here for a purpose. They were nervous, but determined to go through with our plan. They really were wonderful friends, willing to listen and help me with my problems. I would truly miss them.

I'd only moved to town a few months ago. My father was in the Air Force, and his military career required him to move around frequently. We stayed in one place just long enough for me to make a few friends, and then we would relocate again.

In a normal circumstance, I would have a permanent home with my mother. We would have the choice of living on base, or in a civilian residence, my father visiting home in his down time. Our circumstance wasn't normal however.

My mother was killed in a head on collision while driving down the highway. Apparently, the semi driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel, and the large truck drifted into the oncoming lane, smashing her and the little car.

It had been three years, but I never really got over her death. My father tried multiple times to help me through the grieving process, but I was frozen on step one; denial.

She's not dead. She's not dead. She's not dead.

Over and over I repeated my mantra to myself, expecting her to walk through the door at any moment. Finally, my father said something that sunk in.

"Your mothers not dead, you just can't see her anymore. She's always with you now."

In my mind that translated to, "In death people can't really leave you."

I could accept this theory, and to my father's distracted eyes, I appeared to have mourned my mother and moved on. He couldn't have been more wrong. I was stuck on his words, or rather the way I twisted them.

So I told my new friends my theory, and convinced them of its truth. My father was being relocated again, and I didn't want to leave my friends behind. They felt the same, devastated by the news of my departure. In youth, everything seems more emotional than it should rightly be.

We agreed that we would all do it together. In death we wouldn't be separated, BFFs forever. The idea was simple, we would each slit the others wrists. We could lay on the floor side by side and embrace our fate, and our friendship.

There were four of us, and we all watched as the first girl picked up a kitchen knife, and sliced through the seconds wrists. She cut deep, all the way to the bone. Blood sprayed from the wounds, spraying in all directions, and I tossed a towel to her. She took it gratefully and pressed her wrists into the fabric, which was quickly turning red. She was no longer able to use her hands though, the tendons had been severed.

The third girl took the knife, and motioned for the first to come near. Same as before, the wrists were cut and her hands were rendered useless. We were ready for the blood this time though, and threw a towel over her arms before anyone got sprayed by the sticky liquid.

The third girl required that I be the one to cut her. She handed me the knife and turned her arms with wrists up in the air. I hesitated for only a moment, and her face contorted briefly in confusion at my delay. I recovered quickly, and slid the blade through her tender flesh.

I would need to slit my own wrists, but I was stalling as I looked around. I really didn't desire death. I didn't want to leave my father alone. I never planned to go through with the suicide pact.

I watched the other girls lay on the purple carpet, staring either at the ceiling or the eyes of the person next to them. I slit my wrists, one after the other, but not deep enough to penetrate the veins.

No one noticed how small my cuts were. They were too entranced by their own impending death. I took my place on the floor next to them, and began a conversation. They would assume I was trying to distract them from what was happening, but the truth was that I wanted to know when they passed.

"Anyone hear Justin Bieber's new song?" I inquired of the girls.

Immediately the room was filled with the buzzing of excited girl gossip. They went over every detail of the pop stars life; his music, films, romantic relationships, addictions, etc. After only a few minutes the first girl to have her wrists slit fell silent.

"Are you still with us?" one of the girls asked with worry.

"She's with us." I responded confidently.

One by one the girls fell silent, until all of them had faded into the void of death. I sat up and double checked. None were breathing.

I smiled to myself as I stood from the floor to gather my things. Before walking out the door I turned to my friends, now forever with me. The purple carpet bellow had six large red stains, all starting to blend together at the edges as the blood continued to flow.

"I'm sorry," I confessed. "I can't leave my dad, but I didn't want to leave you either. This is for the best. You'll see."

I began down the dark empty street towards my house, and my waiting father. As I walked I remembered all my friends. The new ones laying on a blood soaked floor, and the ones I'd managed to convince before. There were close to a dozen groups of buddies now following me as I traveled from town to town.

I was grateful for my understanding of death. I never left anyone behind anymore.

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