Maybe We Were Meant to Be (Tay Jardine and Jenna Mcdougall)

The Edge

Jenna:

Because of Tay's mental illness all the bands had agreed that she probably wouldn't be able to handle going back out on tour any time soon. Everyone was holding their breath wondering if we should say something to Tay. None of us knew if it would set her off or cause an epiphany. Hayley opened up to us and said she had been seeing a therapist, it had been helping her out a lot and it could help Tay too. I decided I would try speaking to her about it.

I made up my mind one night after having gone out with her band mates, who were some of my only friends in New York, that today was the day to have the talk. I was thinking over all the different ways it could go and how to react on the way home. I slowly climbed up the stairs finishing my thought process and preparing myself for it. I assumed Tay wouldn't be asleep, she would just be faking it like she always did.

I opened the door to the apartment quietly, like I always did so that if she really was asleep I wouldn't wake her up. The front room was dark, before I could turn the light on I heard Tay crying and talking to herself. "I can't do it anymore. This has to be the end."

I quietly walked back to our bedroom, the light was off in the main room, but the closet light was on. I walked around the bed and gasped at what I saw. Tay was standing on a chair, a rope hanging down in front of her, a noose tied at the end. "Tay please get down from there." I sobbed.

"I can't Jenna. I'm sorry. Life isn't worth it. I love you." she whispered

"Tay, I'm begging you. Please don't do it. Things will get better."

"When? It's too much, nothing has gotten better for a long time." she cried.

I got closer to her hoping I could knock her out of the chair, the rope still wasn't around her neck. "We had so much fun in Australia, what happened?"

"I don't know. I feel so drained. I don't have the energy to deal with this shit anymore Jenna. Please let it be over."

I made it over next to her. I knocked the chair over and caught her in my arms. "WHY?" she screamed at me pounding a fist painfully into my chest. I carried her over to the bed and set her down. Then I went back in to the closet and untied the rope.

"MY LIFE IS A LIVING HELL! WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO LIVE THROUGH IT?" she kept yelling.

"Tay please be quiet or the neighbors will call the cops. If I explain the situation they'll take you to the hospital. I want you to make the decision to get help on your own."

"Get help? Are you kidding me? You mean go to a shrink? Those assholes are so condescending and self righteous. I would never go to one of them."

I started crying harder. "Why? What are you going to do? I can't leave you here by yourself if you are going to attempt suicide again."

"It doesn't matter if you are here or not. I just want to die." she whimpered.

I couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say, nor did I have the strength. I curled up on the bed beside Tay. I sobbed into my pillow. I felt shattered inside, but I knew that it could be fixed, it was temporary. Soon sleep took away all feeling.

I woke back up at 4 in the morning when I felt Tay get up out of bed. I figured she was just going to the bathroom, but I stayed awake just to make sure. She walked around the bed and out the door. I got up and followed a few feet behind. When she walked into the kitchen I hid around the corner and peered around every few seconds to see what she was doing.

Please be making a snack, please just a midnight snack. I screamed in my head. Of course for the second time that night I was once again disappointed. She took a knife and held it to her throat. I realized it didn't matter if I was home or not, she was always in danger. "Tay drop that right now!" I yelled as I lept out from around the corner. She jumped and turned around, dropping the knife. It landed an inch away from her right foot.

"Why? I want to die. Can you not accept that?" she whined.

"There are better solutions." I pleaded.

"I don't think so."

A.N. I once again remind everyone that suicide isn't a cure, it is a permanent end. There is no chance of getting better. Despite the opposite opinion stated in the chapter therapy and psychiatrists can help. Please don't end your life, the world needs you. I don't know where you live so I can't give you a phone number to call, but something I used when I had a hard time is the Samaritans email, look it up it could be helpful.