My Last Breath

It's 10:53 on a Sunday night. I've already said goodnight to my parents and siblings, they think I'm fast asleep which I'm not. I silently sit in my chair while twirling my pen, thoughts fill my mind. I stare at the blank piece of paper on my desk and the tears refill my eyes for the 5th time tonight.
I can't possibly do it without writing a goodbye letter, right? I want to make sure my family knows why I did it. My tears fall onto my paper and I can't help the frustration as the droplets begin to ruin the paper. I crumble it up and brake down even harder. I realise I can't right the letter so I look into the mirror once more and watch my final tears go down my face. Only a couple moments later my heart stops and the blood from my body escapes on the dusty carpet to make a puddle.
I figure nobody will even care, right?

It's now 6:47am Monday morning. My mother waiting for me in the kitchen to give me my lunch money. She's already late for work but she doesn't want me stressing about having to make my own lunch. She doesn't know what's taking so long. She yells my name a couple of times and I just hear her as I'm on my last breath. She has no idea that my almost dead, cold body is lying in my bedroom, she figures I'm having a sleep in. That's it, she's had enough of this. She charges up the stairs and stomps her way to my bedroom. She opens the door and steps in to find her brand new shoes covered in blood and to see my almost lifeless body on the ground. "Alice!" She screams. She calls for my dad who is about to walk out of the door for his work. I can hear my mums sobbing and I can feel her tear drops drop onto my face. I can hear a thud downstairs as my dad drops his bag and runs up the stairs. He runs over to find the exact same thing as my mum has found. It's been 7 minutes of pacing up and down and neither of them bothered to call triple 0. Finally my dad reaches for his phone in his pocket and I hear at least 3 dials of a number, I then hear a buzzing noise and finally get the idea that they've called triple 0. Soon enough paramedics come rushing upstairs with all their medical gear. They lift my body onto a stretcher and go as fast as the possibly could to get to the ambulance. They buckle me in and I hear the ambulance start. I'm finally at the hospital. I faintly hear them talking about how there's no point in trying to save me. I feel my body rotate to the side where I had stabbed myself. They take the knife out of my body to reveal even more blood then they thought.

They start there work on my body and soon enough in my dreams I realise I'm asleep. I feel like it's been days since I fell asleep,  i figure it's only been hours. I wake up breathing heavily. "She's awake!" I hear my mums voice as well as my dads. It sounds like a cheering sound after I hear my parents. Was it really a miracle that I woke up? I mean I was surely awake throughout all off this, right?

A couple months later and my parents still try to comfort me about the day. I told them I'm fine but I'm not. They still don't understand half of my life. They don:t understand what I deal with constantly. The bullying, the insecurities. I wish someone would understand me. My parents suggested I visit a counsellor. I swear I nearly screamed at the top of my lungs no. That was the last thing I wanted to do. Is there really anyone that could comfort me? I mean anyone at home doesn't understand. My friends don't get my problems. there's no one else. i guess i have to manage this on my own.

I'm back home and much more comfortable. A blood stain still in my carpet. I hear my mum scream loud. "Julie!" I rush over to see my sister crying deeply into my mothers arms with blood on her hands...