***TRIGGER WARNING*** please do not read if you are sensitive to themes of suicide.
I walk down the dark hallway leading towards my room. The ambiance light yet full of so much aspiration and devotion. I am calm. My hands are not shaking, my chest is no longer pounding, my body is entirely itself. And might I add, to the fullest.
My mind is perhaps the most focused I have ever been; empty, clear of everything else accept for one idea. One permanent culmination.
My room, or rather my parents' room (they happened to own the entire house) was an absolute mess. Everything was strung out and unorganized due to my three hour blue period. I had been desperately trying to force myself into sleep, and after many failed attempts, I am more wide awake then I've ever been.
I figured before I'd leave this condemning world, I'd at least accomplish something. So I organized and cleaned just about everything in my room. This task took about an hour and a half; my parents would arrive home at around eight. I had thirty minutes to finish this. Or rather, myself.
I had also figured I'd write another something, mainly for my parents. I would not address Adam, considering he did nothing but give myself false hope, and further ensure my early departure.
Mother and Father,
I would first like to apologize for all of this mess, I doubt it will be anything but congenial. I'm assuming it could be taken care of easily, perhaps you ought to throw the rug out entirely.
Secondly, I'm sorry that this is all happening again; hopefully you should be much more accustomed to my whole "wanting to die" complex.
Third and final, in which this attempt should be, I love you. This might be difficult to understand, but a lot of things are. For many, it is a second nature to focus on the positives and live through life itself, ignoring all of the bad and letting yourself go. I thought I had the potential to do this for a while, I guess not.
This chapter was almost fiction until I experienced yet another brutal realization. That's alright though, this was something I definitely could not avoid, only temporarily ignore.
The trees are finally empty.
I stapled the note onto the front of my door so whoever should find myself would not be so surprised to find an awful bloody mess.
I exhale a sigh of relief, finally I can leave all of this goddamn pain and rage. As I reach for the gun hidden underneath my lamp stand my heart sinks.
What the fuck? Where is it?
Now in a panicked state, I flip the stand over completely, the floor unoccupied.
"Plan B," I saw to myself, my voice hurried and antipathetic.
I walk through the dark hallways once again, a clear motive in mind, of course.
The steak knife in front of myself is short and thick, however neither dull nor lacking. I sort of smile to myself and take the knife in my left hand, then making my way back towards the yellow room.
❧
The initial cut is not painful.
In an odd and perhaps sadistic way, it felt sort of nice. Actually, it felt fucking fantastic. The even flow of red reminded myself of droplets of rain sliding down a glass window. Smooth curved lines, all ending at the beginning. This is my ending, and what a better way than to feel such a rush of euphoria? For the first time I am getting what I have wanted all along.
Before I begin to feel the ineluctable faintness, I take the knife in hand and slit my other wrist. This time the flow is much more sharp and violent; spurts of blood taint the yellow bedding. Yellow and red.
My head begins to burn unbearably as the room blurs into a foreign configuration. This is what dying must feel like.
My head hits the floor a few moments prior, the colorless blurs now a dark night.
❧
Adam Olivas
The four hours after I had left Cal to his own demises worried me deeply.
I knew I probably didn't handle that situation correctly, or I guess, professionally, but what was I supposed to do? Cal is way too sensitive to deal with other people's suicide.
Heck, I even am.
I also shouldn't have said that we weren't in a relationship, even though it was true. I had never made anything official with us for a reason, I just wish he could understand that. It's not like I don't like him, and I'd love to be his boyfriend, but I can't. Not with one of my patients whom I thought was improving so much. I still can't believe Danielle is gone.
I always knew she had a thing for me, and I was also aware that she hated and blamed Kellin for the fact that I "chose him over her." But the thing was, I never liked Danielle; I never even flirted with her at all. Somehow she got the impression that I did, which obviously just created more problems for herself, not to mention Cal and I.
That might have been the tipping point, I'm still not sure; they're wasn't a note.
Regardless of the distance I had tried to put between our "relationship", I decided to check up on him, worried that he might do something stupid.
Actually, it wasn't until I noticed that I was driving in his neighborhood that I decided to check up on him. As I had mentioned in my presentation, Cal was improving, and with eventually be free of suicidal thoughts and depression.
I am so excited for him, and for us.
I knocked first at his front door, careful not to disrupt anything his family might be doing.
Without an answer after about five minutes, I made my way towards the outside of Cal's window. I tapped on the thin glass, again, no answer.
The panic begin to ensue within me after no response, however, I managed to reassure myself into thinking the best.
He's probably just asleep, or listening to music. He's okay.
I take a deep breath inwards to further relax myself before letting myself in through the dark oak from door.
The house was eerily dark and quite, which only made me more stressed.
He's fine.
I make my way to the end of the hallway, staring directly at the door with a piece of paper directly stapled on it.
I follow the tile flooring leading up to his room and tear the note off of the door.
I read over it, it was a suicide note.
A terrible feeling inside of my chest begins to swell and I clutch the doorknob in one hand.
I take another deep breath in before opening the door, only to find what I feared the most in my entire life.
For the first time, I didn't feel like the strong one. And I definitely didn't feel like I was ever qualified to help him in the first place.
His head lay adjacent to his yellow bedding, hitting the wooden frame underneath the mattress. His legs and torso slightly bent, as if he had fallen, not intentionally laid down, and slightly awkward in form.
As for his wrists, oh my god.
I couldn't even see them, they were hidden underneath the cakes of blood.
I began to break down immediately, but eventually managing to pull myself together enough to call the police and services.
I cried harder than I ever have at the foot of his bed, staring down at his perfect fucking face, a ghostly white, pale pink lips, black curls, coffee stained eye lids.
I failed him.
It's my fault that he isn't better, I took everything away from him whenever I said we weren't together.
I'm so stupid! I should have known that that was a horrible thing to say to a person; even if they aren't suicidal.
❧
The tears did not cease until later in the evening.
The ambulance and police officers arrived at his house a little before his parents came home.
I'm so glad that they took him to the hospital before they saw him like that. His nearly lifeless body laying limo upon the floor like that is something I will never forget.
I asked on multiple occasions if he was still alive, or if he was going to live another day.
I did not get a definite answer. However, one of the paramedics mentioned that his cuts were very deep, and he would be lucky to survive.
I wasn't usually one for counting on luck, but at this point, I would've been on my knees praying to every kind of god to keep him alive.
I waited in the emergency room with his parents for what seemed like hours before they had asked us to go home.
The nurse couldn't release any information yet, but his expression told me that things were not looking well.
I knew that the possibility of Cal dying was very real, which was part of the reason why I didn't want to get too attached. However, for the past few hours I feel like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest. I am so in love with him, it's crazy that I ever denied it.
And now he's probably not going to make it, and I never got a chance to tell him.