The Sweetest Kill (SAMPLE)

Three: Allocution

I stare down one of his framed degrees on the wall and feel tears sting my eyes. The 'incident' in question is not my finest hour. I can admit that. Glancing down at my covered up arms I remember what got me in this chair in the first place.

It's crazy how one little thing can change everything. I had taken myself off my medications probably about two months before and I had been feeling fine. I wasn't a happy go-lucky cheerleader but I was feeling as melancholy as normal. I didn't have a job yet but I was taking a few online college courses, you know just to try it out. I was on my way to being...I don't know, normal I guess.

As I said before, it was a small thing that pushed me over the cliff that I wasn't even aware I was teetering on. It was the middle of the night and I couldn't sleep. Instead all I was doing was drawing and writing thoughts down in the margins of my sketchbook. Then the pencil broke. I had been gripping it so hard, it snapped clear in half. It seems stupid but it felt like the last straw.

What was I doing with myself? Why was I pretending to be something I wasn't? My entire life at this point felt like a sham. I wasn't some college bound girl with hopes and dreams. I was the girl who sat quietly in the back of the class and was waiting for her time to be up. I didn't want to make a new life because I was pretty sure I wouldn't be happy that one either.

I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside out. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think correctly. It was like everything was chaos and nothing would be right again. I tried to get a grip, convince myself that I was being crazy but it didn't work. No matter what I tried to tell myself the truth was I wasn't meant to be like this. I wanted out and I could only think of one way.

I feel a tear drip down my face as I remember the feel of the blade sliding across my wrist and quickly reach up to wipe it away. "I-I was having a hard time."

Dr. Reynolds poises his pen for notes as he regards me, "What about it was so hard?"

"Everything."

"Nothing specific?"

I shake my head and wipe away another escaped tear from my cheek. I bite down on my lower lip and rip another piece of skin from its surface. The sting of it focuses my mind on the pain and I can feel myself already calming down. That's all I needed, just a little focus. I wish I could sneak into the bathroom for a few minutes and use the emergency blade in my jacket pocket.

"Why didn't you talk to your parents about it?"

I let out a dry laugh, "That would have been a waste of time. I would have just been back in the hospital again."

"But if you had, you wouldn't have made the attempt."

I meet Dr. Reynolds pale eyes, "I think you're forgetting that I didn't want to be saved."

He scribbles on his notepad before speaking again, "What about your sister?"

I instantly go tense at the mention of Charlotte. Narrowing my eyes, I try to keep my voice as dull as possible, "What about her?"

"Did her death have any impact on you? Your file says that you made the first attempt on your life shortly after her death."

"Of course her death impacted me. She was my baby sister." I snap before lifting my legs up to cross them in front of me. "I was fucked up long before Charlotte. Her death didn't make me sick."

"But it did drive you to attempt to hang yourself in the family dining room."

"It wasn't about Charlotte!" I yell before sitting back in my chair. I run a shaky hand through my hair and try to calm down. I shouldn't have let him get to me like that. I'm sure that's what he wanted and here I am just giving it to him. I know better than this. Lowering my tone I repeat myself, "It wasn't about Charlotte."