TRIGGER WARNING - This chapter contains mentions suicide. Read it at your own risk. Not suggested for people with depression/ bipolarism/ anxiety disorders/ PTSD/ personality disorders/ schizophrenia/ alcoholism.
"You sure you're well now? Don't you think we should get you checked up at Doctor Jhaveri's?" My dad asks with concern as he takes my temperature for the third time this morning. "I'm fine, dad! I know it when I'm fine!" I huff as I get out of the bed and proceed to call my friends and ask them what happened at school.
I had common flu for the past week, so I had been on bed rest. I hadn't bothered to catch up with my school work, so I decided that it's high time I did that, considering I was planning to attend school tomorrow.
"What happened the last week?" I ask Aisha over the call. "Nothing much, really. Teachers just discussed the question papers and then explained the most difficult parts of the syllabus - on public demand, of course - and some of them just made it a story time and ranted on about their life incidents and all..." "So nothing important, right?" I confirmed. "Yeah, nothing much. Oh, by the way, you've scored the highest in English," she said, her voice getting shrill. "They distributed answer sheets?" "Duh! Kim, you got 77 on English!"
"WHAT?" I screamed! 77 out of 80? That's sick! "Are you sure it was my paper?" "Ya, Kim! You've topped the batch in English!" "And the rest?" "I don't know. I didn't bother to note it down." "Uh, okay. I am coming to school tomorrow, so I will talk to you then?" "Ya, bye!" she said on the other end before cutting the call.
***
"Kimora, here are your answer scripts. You can take them. For now, just add up the marks and tell me if they are fine," my class teacher said. I took the papers to my desk, opened a fresh page of my notebook and started jotting down my marks.
English - 77/100
French - 79/100
Social Studies - 60/80
Science - 52/80
Maths - 46/80
HOLD UP! 46!! That's it? I started adding the marks up quickly to check if they were correct. I couldn't have gotten so low. No, please, no! I checked the totalling of my maths paper thrice but, of course, they were right. Tears started pooling in my eyes. No, Kim, not now. I wiped them off quickly before moving on to the other papers.
I was satisfied with my English and French marks but I definitely needed to work more on the rest. What will I tell my sisters? My maternal cousins had just come to visit us for a week yesterday. They had been in town for a few days but had been hesitant to come to our house since I was down with flu. I was also afraid of dad. He always expected so much out of me.
I do not know how I spent the rest of the day at school. I felt like a ghost. I somehow stepped into the bus and sat down on my seat lifelessly. I just wanted to drown. And not just in waves of sadness. I wanted to drown in the sea salt and never wake up again. The last few months had already been so harsh on me and this... this? Extreme shit. I don't want to wake up again. I'm done. Done with life. I just want to die.
"Kim! Congrats for your -" Vivaan stopped midsentence when he saw my closed eyes, my body slumped on my seat as if I was dead. "Kim? KIM?" "Hey, hey, no need to shout! I'm here!" I said in a soft tone which clearly reflected how weak I felt. "What happened?" he asked softly, his worried brown eyes boring a hole into my soul. Not that it mattered anymore. Like I said, no one wants a corpse.
I just shook my head and looked outside the window. He had turned my head to face him while his face had cupped my face and whispered, "Don't think I don't understand how hurt you are. You may not speak it, but your eyes say it all." Zane always knew. And yet, he isn't here. He'll never see me again. I'll be gone by the time he reaches India. "Don't think I don't see the hurt in your eyes. I know you stay quiet about it most of the time but I am scared for you," Vivaan said, hugging me tightly. His embrace was heaven and -
How did he know exactly what to say? He is - "I'll ask again, what happened?" Vivaan asked as he gently turned my face to face him. His hands cupped my small face snugly and he stroked my cheeks with his thumb slowly. "I - I got my results today. And... they aren't g - good. I -" Tears flowed down my cheeks. He hugged me tight and wiped the tear off my face. "It's okay. These are just pre-boards. Don't worry so much," he reassured me with a small smile.
"But they expect highly of me. I barely got 75.5% this time and I am aiming for 90's!" I sobbed. "Kimora, don't let that make you cry. You were born to express, not impress." I smiled a little at that.
The bus ride was quiet as I contemplated what to do next. Should I choose to live or die?
⚠️ ATTENTION PLEASE : DO NOT SKIP THIS AUTHOR NOTE. IT'S AN INSIGHT INTO MY PROTAGONIST ⚠️
A/N: I know this chapter is shorter than your expectation. I am dividing this chapter into two parts so that I do full justice to this part. I want to show everything that goes on in her brain at this point.
People who get suicidal thoughts do not contemplate it on a single day. It's a snowball effect in action. Little incidents with little value of their own pile up together and emotionally overwhelm them. It's just like the famous "How long can you hold a cup of water?" experiment.
[ In case you don't know it, here's the site to read up on it - https://www.simpletruths.com/blog/how-long-can-you-hold-a-cup-of-water-part-1.html ]
Kimora is going through the same snowball effect. The bullying through the years, the incident on the highway, the rumours, the attempted assault by her close friend, the pain of separation, the isolation, the insecurity topped with her mental disorders (depression, anxiety, PTSD and paranoia at this point) have really crushed her badly and she doubts her strength to face everything that life throws at her.
She feels inferior. Failure gets under her skin. So when she scores wayyy below her expectation, she loses it. She starts making a decision between life and death because she cannot accept failures and humiliation anymore. You must understand that these thoughts are not rational. So please do not mock my character for contemplating suicide over some measly marks. Those marks mean a lot to her. And you'll know why. Later.
QOTD : What is your favorite number?
AOTD : 7
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