Second Chances: An Unexpected Angel

Chapter 61

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!!!!! MENTION OF SUICIDE!!!!!

Sméagol and Hayley spent the entire day with me, trying to cheer me up. We watched movies together, ate junk food, and enjoyed each other's company. I thought I was doing okay. I even went to bed with a smile on my face.

However, I was kept awake by countless voices from my past, people telling me I was a waste of space, an inconvenience, a burden, too much to handle. My mind took an unsolicited trip down the dark side of Memory Lane, to all my failed relationships, friendships that went up in smoke, and numerous bullies who tore me down to size. All the voices were getting louder and louder. It was too much! No, I wasn't literally hearing voices. It wasn't psychosis or anything like that. It was more like a build-up of all the hurtful and painful things people have said and done to me, all the horrible, negative thoughts about myself that were drilled into my head on a daily basis. They were imploding inside my mind all at once.

I couldn't take anymore, so I got out of bed, made my way downstairs, and tiptoed into the kitchen. I turned on the lights, and grabbed a glass of water, anything to shut all my negative thoughts up. Nothing was working. It just kept getting louder. I went into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and hid my face in my hands, sobbing and hyperventilating as the memories and thoughts became louder and louder.

Finally, I couldn't take anymore. As I made my way back into the kitchen, I wondered if all these people were right. Was I really that horrible person they said I was? I reflected on my friendship with Abby, and I realized just how much I leaned on her. Every time something went wrong, I would always call her up, so I wouldn't overwhelm Hayley, overwhelming Abby instead. Then, I reflected on past friendships and relationships, and remembered that I did the exact same thing. Not only that, but they had to look out for me all the time. Everything I couldn't do for myself, they had to do for me. I never treated them like friends or boyfriends. I treated them like they were my caregivers, until they finally had enough. Wow, all those hurtful words, as painful as they were to hear, were a hundred percent right and well deserved.

I went into the music room, ripped a blank sheet of paper out of one of my notebooks, grabbed a pin, and went back into the kitchen. I sat at the table, and tried to think of what to say.

"I'm sorry," I wrote. "I'm just sorry. I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry... for causing everyone so much pain. Everyone was right. I do make people's lives harder. I put my stuff on others, and I treat them like my caregivers or my therapists or emotional punching bags. I don't deserve any forgiveness or mercy, so I won't ask for it. I don't want your pity or sympathy, none of it. I just wanna stop hurting people. Call me a drama queen all you want. I don't care anymore, and you're probably right, but I don't know how else to fix what I've done. So... I guess this is goodbye."

I rummaged through the drawers, and grabbed a steak knife. No, I thought. Too messy. I put the knife away, and grabbed a random bottle of pills. What were they? I didn't care. I refilled my glass with water, and poured a small amount of the pills in my hand. I looked at them for a moment with tears in my eyes. The thoughts in my head continued screaming, but this time, they were screaming, "Do it! Do it! Take the pills! Take the fucking pills, so we can be free of you!" Without even thinking about it, I shoved the pills in my mouth, and washed them down with the whole glass of water.

Meanwhile, Sméagol was suddenly awoken by a strange feeling that something wasn't right. He hurried downstairs, and saw that the kitchen light was on. "Cheyenne?" He called softly. "Precious?" He tiptoed into the kitchen, and his heart jumped out of his chest when he saw me lying on the floor. "Oh, no." He knelt down to see if I was okay, and found a bottle of pills and an empty glass next to me. "Cheyenne," he panted as he tapped me, trying desperately to revive me. "Cheyenne, wake up! Please!" he panicked. "Cheyenne! Cheyenne!" he screamed. He hurried into the living room, and found Hayley's phone on the coffee table. He quickly dialed 911 as he rushed back into the kitchen, kneeling back down next to me. "Yes, unconscious my girlfriend is," he said to the operator. "I think she swallowed too many pills!"

As the ambulance arrived, Sméagol found my note on the table. His heart shattered when he read the message.

"What's going on?" Hayley asked as she hurried downstairs. "Why is there an ambulance..." Then, she saw Sméagol cradling me in his arms. "Oh, my God!" she panicked. "Cheyenne!"