5SOS Preferences and Imagines

Michael - Suicide Attempt (Song Pref: Better Off Dead)

"How come no one heard her when she said 'maybe I'm better off dead, if I was, would it finally be enough to shut out all those voices in my head?'"

Sleeping With Sirens - Better Off Dead

—-

It was late on a Friday night. I was sat in the porcelain bathtub filled with a few inches of water. My body was raked with a stream of tears and blood. The lukewarm water around me was stained red from the blood pooling out of my veins. I needed to escape. I needed to leave. I wasn't okay with myself or any aspect of my life — except Michael.

Michael. My rock. My love.

He would be torn if I left, but I knew he would get over it. He'd find someone new, someone better. So, I was going to leave. I was going to fix all my problems. I had the blade in my hand, and a plan in my head. I looked over to the bathroom counter where my note laid, directed to Michael.

'Michael.

I love you. I love you more than words can express. But I can't take this anymore. I need to leave. I need something better. You were the best thing in my life and I'm sad to leave you, but I don't want you coming with me wherever I go after this. I love you. And know that this wasn't your fault. Goodbye.'

I sighed and gripped the blade tightly in my hand, an image of Michael coming into view. His smile, his laugh. A small smile played on my lips as I brought the blade closer to my neck.

I heard noises far off, probably from the delusion I was pulling myself into. I had a sickly grin on my face as I thought of Michael and brought the blade to my skin.

I pressed the blade to my skin, enjoying the stinging sensation. Then, the bathroom door opened. Michael.

I began to swipe the blade across my skin, but he was faster than I. His hands grabbed at the blade, cutting his palm and fingertips. I had cut my throat, like my original plan, but not as deep or long as I had planned. The side of my neck, my initial starting point was a deep cut, and the next inch leading onto my throat was a thin line, not deep enough to cause the damage I wanted.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, tears pooling in his eyes.

"I want to be happy," I whispered.

He let out a single sob as he threw the blade somewhere else and stood up, looping his arms under my legs and around my back. He lifted me out of the bathtub and stood me on my feet, pulling me tight against him as we cried. He grabbed a towel and draped it around my shoulders. I saw him grab the letter I had written and stuff it into his pocket.

"We need to get you to a hospital," he said quickly, dragging me into the bedroom.

"No, I'm fine," I mumbled.

He ignored me as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of his Pierce the Veil tank tops. He dressed me and quickly picked me up again, carrying me out to the car.

"I'm sorry, Mikey," I whispered as he started the car.

"Don't be sorry," he said quietly, grabbing my hand.

He sped to the hospital and, again, carried me in as I cried.

He got a nurse's attention and she got us into a hospital room and gave him a wet rag to apply pressure while we waited a few minutes for a doctor.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "I'm so sorry."

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, "Stop apologizing, okay? We're gonna get you help... You'll be fine, okay?"

He sighed and looked up at me, his teary green eyes meeting mine. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"I didn't want to bother..."

He shook his head, kissing my forehead, "Never."

A doctor came and saw us, and then stitched up the cuts and gave us numbers to psychiatrists. A new doctor, a "mental professional," came in and explained to Michael about suicide watch and how to help me.

Then, we were on our way home.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"Stop apologizing," he told me, leading me up to our room. "I'm gonna help you get better, okay? I'll never leave your side, I promise. I love you... I can't imagine losing you..."

He started crying as he struggled to finish his statement. "Walking in there... Seeing you like that... I didn't know what to do. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. Just, please... Please come to me. I'll help you. Nothing is ever bad enough to take your life for it. Please, just come to me."

I nodded, another sob hiccuping through me as he pulled me into his chest, "I promise."

He tucked me into bed and sat at the foot of the bed, waiting for me to fall asleep. When he thought I was asleep, he pulled out the letter I had written him. As soon as he started reading, he fell into silent sobs. At that moment, I realized I could never leave him. I felt regret for even considering suicide. I could never leave someone like him behind.