Beige

Chapter Twenty

TW: MENTION OF SUICIDE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, DRUG ABUSE, & ADDICTION

Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with any of these topics.
I included resources at the end of the chapter for anyone who may be looking for help <3

Alexis Monpettit

I tried killing myself two years ago.

I filled my nostrils with copious amounts of cocaine until I passed out with blood dripping down my nose.

I don't remember anything else from that night.

The rest of the story is filled with details that Emma had told me while I was in the hospital. Apparently, she had spent hours trying to call me wondering why I hadn't attended the Gala that she and Chris had invited me to.

She found me on the floor of my bathroom, my head in a puddle of blood, with the ball gown that Chris made specifically for me, attached to my body.

I don't remember what sent me over the edge of wanting to end my life. All I remember is the peace that I craved.

They say that dying is peaceful.

Once you accept the idea that you don't want to be alive anymore, the rest is easy; as easy as pulling a trigger.

But I have never held a gun before, and the intimidation of power I held in my hands had led me to hesitate.

If I had been smart, I would've gone someplace else instead of hiding in the shadows of my own bathroom like a coward, waiting for someone to find me.

I would've found something harder to take, and made sure that the job had been completed.

But I'm not smart.

And I'm still alive.

Well, barely.

The first rays of the sunrise are just peeking over the shoreline as my eyes flutter open for the first time in hours. I had come to the beach after my meeting with Chris and Maggie; it was the only thing that had seemed to slow my tears.

Adjusting the blanket that lays overtop of me, a small clear bag tumbles out of the bundle into the sand. As I reach out to grab it, I feel a trickle run down my nose.

Bringing my empty hand up to my face, I wipe away the liquid flowing out of my nose and raise my hand to my line of sight. Red.

A gasp gets stuck in my lungs as I throw the blanket off of my lap.

"No," I whisper.

I wipe at my nose again, seeing another line of blood on my hand.

"No. No. No." My eyes fill with tears as I stand up frantically with the small bag in my hand.

Looking more closely I notice a small amount of the white powder is missing from the bottom.

My head shakes violently, "no. No. No. No."

I run up to the shoreline, feeling the coolness of the waves wash up to my knees. Opening the bag, I tip it over, watching as the powder disappears as it touches the water.

My knees buckle as a wave of nausea washes over me. I take a few steps back into the sand and fall to the ground. I wash my hand in the salty water that laps up to my toes, making sure to wipe the blood from my face.

"This can't be happening." My whisper gets caught in the sea breeze.

My face falls to my hands that lay in my lap, as the memories from last night flood in.