nepenthe
nɪˈpɛnθiːz/
noun
something that can make you forget grief or suffering.
*
Everyone needs something to take the pain away every so often, and for him, that was her.
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WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS SUICIDE DEPICTIONS AND IS TRIGGERING. PLEASE DO NOT BE INSPIRED BY THIS CHAPTER.
E A S Y E S C A P E
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It should be easy.
It is easy.
God, I shouldn't be scared.
Why am I shaking?
It's cold, that's all.
It's just a knife, Christian.
A measly blade.
You've seen them a million times before.
You know how it feels for them to pierce your skin.
You love how it feels when they imbed in your flesh.
I turned the bath handle to the left, allowing the water to fall down into the bed I would finally lay rest in. As it filled, my mind wandered through my life, my pain and all my plentiful of mistakes.
The blade was sharpened long ago, in the room with broken walls and tattered curtains. It sparkled in the light, reflecting my face in the metal.
I placed it carefully against the tub, the contrast of colours harsh and unbecoming.
It made me think of cutting a birthday cake when I was twelve years old, when Marco was protecting me from everything. When I was smiling because he was going to take me to the cinema in a week when we hadn't gone in so long. I couldn't remember the movie now, why we went. I could remember the grin on his lips, though, when he watched me roam the cinema happily, eyeing the candy and popcorn unsubtly to try and get some extra birthday gifts.
When the few happy memories reached my subconscious, I pushed then back with everything I had, stripping myself from the clothes which connected me too closely to the world.
A smile was stuck in my mind, the same pearl white as the porcelain, a pink blush that made my heart stop without being dead. A stop that lit up my whole life. But I promised myself I wouldn't miss the golden anymore. Hazel wouldn't hold me back.
You're finally going to be safe, Christian.
Safe from all this pain.
Just one last cut and you'll be happy.
Almost completely naked and petrified, I lowered myself into the cold water, feeling the goose bumps rise upon my skin and my hair stick up straight at the change of temperature in a room which, only two minutes before, had been burning me.
There was no ice as there usually was in my baths, and my body knew the change in sensation was wrong. My stomach churned and I felt like I was going to throw up at the thought of not having a few cubes of ice in a fucking bathtub.
