All Roses must die

I pulled the covers off myself, to discover something that made me want to kill myself. Great, I thought, just my fucking luck. Something had scraped my fresh cuts, and of course they had to start bleeding again. Now I had blood all over the bed sheets and covers, and I really didn't need any more trouble right now. Blood is like, impossible, to get rid of, especially when it has been stained on the bed sheets overnight... But I don't care. I don't have the energy for it, simply. Let's face it. I'll probably start slicing my skin more often now, so why bother changing the bed sheets – it was going to happen again. And again. And again.  I decided to call in sick, I honestly didn't have the energy to pretend I'm fine and that I actually like my job.

They say you can't ever fully recover, that you can only be recovering. I guess that makes sense now; I was recovering for around six years, but then I relapsed. And to be honest, it still feels exactly the same. Apparently a six year pause means nothing. Sure, it still stings when you perform the first slice, but then the adrenaline kicks in. The feeling of knowing you've done something you shouldn't have... And then you fall into that sweet, sweet trance, when you no longer feel like you're cutting... you just want to follow that bright line running down your arm, wrist, thigh, or whatever. I don't know how else to describe it. It's like levitating away from this world and away from all the shit in your life. You fly high up to the clouds and... You feel peace. You look down at the world, and you want to shout at it, you want to let it know that you're no longer a part of that place, and at the same time you notice how beautiful it actually is up there. But then... You suddenly remember you are afraid of heights and start panicking. You start falling. And falling. And soon you find yourself sitting on that bloody bathroom floor, when reality kicks in again. You grab the roll of toilet paper next to you and try your best to apply pressure on the cuts, and you can feel your embarrassment in your pulse. And the relief you felt just thirty seconds ago is now gone. It's replaced by self-hatred, disgust and regret. You make yourself sick, and throw up. You feel like a mess, and to be honest, you look like one, too. The last time was supposed to be the last time, but you let yourself down. Again. There's nothing you can change about it anymore, either. So, you do your best. You hide the signs of your uselessness under your clothes; you still wear long sleeves and jeans even if it's summertime. And then you throw the bloody tissues in the toilet, flush the pink water away and hope that recovering really was just as easy. The sad part? At some point, you don't feel the regret anymore. The self-hatred and disgust still remain, but you've accepted the fact that you'll always fail, so eventually you just stop trying. That's the point when things get really fucked up; when your blades become a part of your everyday routine. You crave more, you miss the adrenaline rushes you used to get but later got used to. You start burning yourself, bruising yourself, ripping your skin, but nothing seems to give you the same kick you used to get. Still, you continue, because you're addicted to it. You feel useless because you cut, and you cut because you feel useless; you can't escape the vicious cycle. You just... have to.

It felt amazing. The hurt was gone and the red stream was a railroad I needed to follow. I wanted to jump on the train and just... get away. I had to travel as far as I could, away from Rose. Another slice, another line slowly appearing. The blood inside me had waited for this moment for six years. Finally it was able to escape its pathetic, useless carrier, and rejoice. It was free. The next slice was deeper, but it still didn't hurt... Nothing but pleasure and pure joy.  "Why not?" a voice whispered in my head, "Why not go deeper?" I smiled. This was it. I was going to go deeper, go for my arteries. I wanted to die. I wasn't worth living. Not anymore. Not like this. Not without her. Slice. Another one. A third one. They were getting deep...

 

 

It rang again. I snapped out of my trance and looked down. Fuck, I heard myself saying. Fuck fuck fuck. Blood everywhere – I literally was sitting in a pool of my own blood. It kept ringing. Quickly, I thought to myself as I grabbed a towel, don't hang up. I pressed the towel against my bloody mess, reached for my phone and pressed 'answer' before even checking who it was.

"Isaac..." she whispered.

"Rose..." I whispered back, breaking down to tears.

"They said you called in sick..." she said. She was sobbing a bit.

"Yeah?"

"You never call in sick... Oh, Isaac," she gasped and broke down into proper crying, too. For a moment, neither one of us said anything, we just sat there in silence, listening to each other cry. My bleeding didn't seem to stop... I started feeling weaker.

"I thought... I thought you were... dead..." she finally stuttered out from behind her tears. "Oh, Isaac," she repeated. "I've made a huge mistake..."

"I know," I heard myself answer. Rose started crying even more.

"That's not what I mean, Isaac. I just... Life without you... I don't even – I thought you were DEAD!!" she shouted.  My blood – or at least what was left of it – froze.

"Oh God, Rose," I cried, "please don't tell me... NO!!"

"I'm so sorry, Isaac... I really am..."

"How long ago?" At this point, I was already struggling to get the words to come out of my mouth. "Throw up, baby, now!"

"Too long...  It's useless. They've already started to kick in... I don't have much time."

I didn't think it was even possible to cry more than I already was, but apparently I was mistaken. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shout... The love of my life was dying, and I had to listen to the last minutes of her life. The bathroom I was in started to blur out – everything was a mess. I felt like a blur, too. The drowsiness was really getting to me now, and the bleeding still hadn't stopped. This was it. I had to listen to my girlfriend dying while bleeding out myself.

"Listen to me, baby," I heard my voice echo from somewhere distant, "I don' think I have much time left, either..."

"No..." she whispered.

"And before you go I just want you to know something..."

 "Shh..." she sobbed, "I love you, too... Don't worry... We're leaving together."

"I never wanted it to end like this..." At that point I was already running on fumes.

"Sleep, sweetie. Just sleep..." Her voice was fading to silence.

 "I love you, Rose..."

No answer.

"Stay with me, Rose..."

 Still no answer.

"Rose..."

 I inhaled for one last time, before the room spun around. My head hit the floor and I blacked out. For good.

"I told you I'd get my revenge, didn't I?"