I'm fine, until I'm not.

Don't Let Me Go

I finally gave in, my resolve breaking at the persistence and truth behind it. I had thought about doing many times before, but I never did it because I had friends I had to think about, like Jerome, my family. There was always somebody there to unknowingly stop me before I got to that point. I had argued with myself before, but this was the first time there was a physical voice to fight with. I was already losing it and myself, but now nobody there to catch me this time. I was falling and I couldn't cry for help this time, it was far too late now. I blinked, returning from my thoughts to see a bottle of strong painkillers we had gotten a few months ago when Jerome had hurt his hand the first time. I turned them over in my hand, frowning briefly before unscrewing the top and dumping about ten of them in my hand. "These aren't going to do anything but ruin my liver." I stated aloud, talking to the voice in my head, seeing the expression in the mirror softening.

No, they won't, we aren't going to be around long enough for them to. Take about 12, they will help with the part that comes next, it will make it hurt less.

I frowned but listened, far beyond arguing at this point, swallowing all of the pills in my hand, wincing at the slight inflammation of my throat. I then sat on the tub edge, breathing heavily and closing my eyes. "What's next?" I asked quietly, feeling like a stranger on the outside watching, yet still unable to find a desire to stop everything I was doing.

Find a new razor and take it apart. By the time you do that the pills will have kicked in and it will make it easier to do. A small noise that was a cross between a whimper and a resigned sigh was heard through the bathroom, once again standing up and searching through the drawer before finding a new disposable razor, looking at it curiously before looking for something to break the cheap plastic with. Use the bottle or peroxide to smash it.

"Oh, okay." I said, going into the medicine cabinet where I had put the painkillers away, and withdrawing the unopened bottle of peroxide, eyeing it fondly as I remembered that me and Jerome decided to buy it because he had cut himself trying to open his computer board to fix the fan only for it to suddenly turn on with his finger there and then slicing his whole palm. We thought it would be fine on its own until it turned red, puffy, and warm, making it too painful to play anything. We ended up looking what to do and realized we had to disinfect it so we ran around the local store like chickens with our heads cut off trying to figure out what solution to buy, granted we never found the right one so we went to the doctor but bought a bottle once we got home so we would have one in case one of us got hurt again. I shook my head, blushing a bit before bringing the bottle down on the razor a few times until the plastic on top popped, allowing me to squeeze my fingernails inside of it and pry it apart, and then pulling the thin blades out. I stared at it for a minute, looking a bit fearful. "It's going to hurt." I whimpered, a soft voice ringing in my head again to ease my worries.

That's what the pills were for, so it doesn't hurt as much. I sighed and swallowed roughly, sitting down on the edge of the tub again, pressing the razor to the skin on my wrist, gasping as the light pressure broke through the top of my skin and a thin bead of blood rose to the surface of my skin. You have to do it harder, or it won't work. You want a way out, so you have to do it deeper.

I nodded, a bit enchanted by the appearance of my blood the sight sickening and relieving at the same time. I pushed a bit harder, whimpering as I broke further into the skin, blood dribbling out around the blade. "It hurts." I said quietly.

I know, but it won't soon. Lift your hand and make another one further up, try going a bit deeper. It instructed, sounding excited, almost as if it was teaching me some new strat for a game. I shakily lifted my hand and watched more blood pour out before dripping off my wrist onto the white floor, my stomach twisting before I moved the blade up by an inch and making another deep cut, whimpering at the pain. Shhh, it'll be okay Mitch, just keep going. I did the action again and again, moving up by and inch every time until I hit the inside of my elbow. I paused there, watching the blood along my wrist start to clot, frowning at the pain and the blobs starting to form on the shallower cuts. Stand up and put running water over it, cold water so it doesn't hurt. On shaky legs I stood, dropping the blade on the floor with a quiet click, seeing the blood that clung to the blade splatter around, before turning on the water to the bathtub on and letting the ice cold water flow over my wrist, flinching at the temperature change, but not pulling it back until the blood was flowing again.

I then sat back on the edge with a different blade that came from the razor, immediately doing the same process to my other arm with a far more shaky hand, causing far more jagged and deeper cuts, tears brimming in my eyes from the pain. I then ran both hands under cold water to prevent them from clotting, feeling light headed at this point. I leaned against the wall of the bathtub, my wrists gently placed on my jeans, blood dripping into the denim material and onto the floor. One more thing Mitch, then you can close your eyes and rest, I promise. The voice cooed. I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection which had a smirk on its face, but it didn't bother me anymore, nothing about this did anymore. I was almost free, I was almost done hurting. Get the last new razor and slice your arm like this. It then demonstrated by picking up the razor and roughly dragging it down in a vertical line from the inside of the elbow down to the wrist, blood beaming out and flowing in the reflection, the line nearly perfectly perpendicular with the horizontal cuts made earlier.

I then went to move and grab the razor, surprised to see the blade in my hand and the line already made in my hand, wincing at the pain, a small sob escaping me and the tears flowing before landing on a cut, making me wince. Do the other hand, then sleep. It's easier that way. I nodded numbly, switching the razor to my other hand I had already cut before dragging it across my skin with more force than necessary, another jagged line of blood appearing on my arm. I then dropped the blade, it clanging on the floor as I then gently squeezed my fists, fingers sticky with my own blood. I was so tired and my head hurt so much now. Sleep Mitch, you are perfect now. The voice cooed. I closed my eyes, wincing every so often as my wrists protested in pain, demanding to be treated, but now they were ignorable due to the pills from before. Before I fell asleep I glanced back at the mirror, staring at my reflection to see it smirking at me triumphantly. I told you that you couldn't beat me without a friend, but don't worry Mitch, its better where you are going.

A rush of panic filled my heart and I felt like I had been dunked in a bucket of ice, waking up so suddenly but now too weak to move. My eyes filled with tears of regret. I didn't want to die anymore, I didn't want this anymore. The tears fell over the brim of my eyes as I thought of how everybody would react. Jerome would be so sad, so disappointed in me, and Preston would be heartsick from this. God, and Rob would lose it. As much as I wanted to tell myself Vikk and Lachlan wouldn't care, Vikk would throw himself into his work just to avoid thinking about it and Lachlan... Lachlan might actually kill himself this time, thinking it was his fault.

A weak sob tore itself free from my throat as I tried to stand, but my legs were too weak and I had already lost too much blood, it was soaked into my shirt and jeans while also forming a small puddle around me, the color more black from the concentration than red. I flopped back to the floor, my head hitting the wall as I felt myself start to drift away, not yet dying but passing out. I couldn't even rely on Jerome to save me this time and clean my mess up this time, he wouldn't be home for hours. I was done for... I didn't want him to find me like this, but I didn't have a choice. I thought over all the decisions I had ever made in my life, remembering them in milliseconds as the voice laughed in the back of my head, wondering if there was anything I regretted doing or not doing, I only came up with a few. One of the being the fight with Lachlan, if I could take that joke back I would, another being the fight with Zak, I couldn't remember what the fight was about anymore, but thinking back it probably wasn't worth losing a friend over.

The one thing though I regret not doing, the one thing, was never finding out if Jerome liked me back. Maybe I really did have feelings for him... maybe he had them for me. I truly regret not knowing, not being able to see past my own bullshit to find out, or to be brave enough to confront myself over it. Maybe we could have had something if he liked me back... I wonder what would it have been like to date my best friend, and wondering that maybe I wouldn't be here if I was. I gave another low noise of pain, regret, and sadness in the back of my throat, all my thoughts slipping away as a grey light started to flood my thoughts, my memories going blank as I passed out. Just before I left, I swore I heard a door slam and a familiar voice shouting frantically, but before I could even figure out if it was real or not, I passed into the black space that awaited me before death.

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AN:

Remember to be safe, that somebody out there cares about you, and you are all so very important. Practice self care, whatever you can do, because you are worth it.

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

Love you all. <3