Oh My...

2.) Suicide

Before this moment, I never really thought about suicide. While I was growing up, it was drilled into my head that it was a coward's way out. But now as things around me begin to close in, I'm content with the idea that I'm just a coward. If being a coward meant I didn't have to live like this anymore, I'll take it.

As I walked down these dark, depressing streets, I reflected on all the things that brought me here; all the drugs I took, all the boys I fucked, all the smoke I inhaled. If I could take it all back I would.

It was an unusually chilly October night, and my sick brain instantly thought about finding a lake somewhere so I could drown myself. I didn't want to live anymore; it felt like a thousand weights were packed inside my chest, bringing me down and forcing me to drag myself along the street. I finally understood the term "having the world on your shoulders".

I didn't want to live anymore. Have you ever thought something like that--and meant it? Have you ever been so convinced that things will be better without you, and that things will be easier when you're six feet under, that your own daydreams consist of you slitting your throat? I brainwashed myself to the point of no return, and now I'm just waiting for the bleak effects to take place.

A car hummed in the dense air, and headlights broke though the deep fog surrounding me. Beside the high lamp posts, this car brought the only light for miles.

The car sped up. From my place in the middle of the road, light flashed into my eyes, temporarily blinding me.

I didn't move from the middle of the street.

The bright yellow light completely colored my vision; burning my eyes and forcing me to squint. The horn blared, but I didn't listen. Finally, just inches away from me, tires squealed against the pavement and the car came to a halt.

It was only then that I realized I was holding my breath. Pressing my hand against my racing heart, tears filled the brim of my eyes. I've never tried to intentionally hurt myself before like that. I crumbled to my knees, a weird ringing echoing inside my head.

The driver and the passenger door jerk open. I watched as two boys, one white and one black, clumsily rose from the car and took a few cautious steps towards me.

The white kid began pacing back and forth, running his hand over his short brown hair. "Oh my God. Oh my God, we fucking killed her. Holy hell Doody I can't cope with this. I mean, what the fuck are we supposed to do with the body? I never killed someone before, what the fuck."

"Shut up Marshall." The black guy hissed, walking closer towards me and kneeling down to my level. "We obviously didn't hit her, I think she's just stunned. Hi, I'm Deshaun."

"Get the fuck away from her, Doody!" Marshall cried, still pacing around the car. "What if she has AIDs?"

"Do you always say the first thing on your mind?" Deshaun asked, shutting his eyes in irritation. From behind him, Marshall frowned.

I only just realized how hard I was trembling. "I was-..the car, the light..I'm-..." I stammered, hardly coherent.

Deshaun and Marshall both exchanged nervous glances. "Um, are you okay?" Deshaun asked slowly.

My bottom lip was shaking. I tried to bite it, but that just made the trembling worse. I shook my head. "N-N-"

"Hey, you weren't trying ta' kill yourself back there, were you?" Marshall bluntly asked, his eyes widening with realization. "Because, I mean you were just standing there-"

"Em!" Deshaun exclaimed, obviously mortified. "Have some respect, please!"

"Yes." I whispered.

Both of the boys stared at me. "What?" Marshall asked.

I glanced up, fresh tears running down my cheeks. "Yes, I was trying to kill myself."

Things were silent after that. Marshall stared at Deshaun, and Deshaun stared at me. I tried to keep my eyes fixated on anything except his worry gaze.

Finally, he sighed. "You look like you could use a blunt."