Discovering the Void

Chapter One

The moment had arrived, the cold weight of the carbon steel pressing against my palm. Where my uncle Peter had acquired this gun remained a mystery; he couldn't have afforded it, considering he'd been dipping into my finances for the past decade when I couldn't.

I stand here now, defiantly murmuring "fuck you" to him and all those who turned a blind eye to my silent pleas for help. The perpetual pressure in my mind, the constant weight in my chest... It's been there for as long as I can remember. For years, I've carried this damn invisible burden, a relentless shadow darkening even my brightest days. Which were few. I wasn't a lame girl. A dumb girl. Lazy or stupid. Not unpopular. I was just in pain. Weighed down. Like a cake with too much frosting, it was heavy and not in a good way. 

So here's to shedding that weight like a bad haircut, and flipping the bird with a smile. Now, it's finally time to confront it, yet why does it feel so daunting? Point and shoot. It's harder than it seems, trust me. My fingers clench tightly around the grip, my hand trembling as time seems to stretch.

Inhaling a shaky breath, I raise the gun to my temple, teeth clenched. This act, this one final action, is supposed to bring an end to the agony, yet it feels like I'm teetering on the edge of an abyss, the fear and uncertainty gnawing at me. The cold metal in my hand is a stark reminder of the reality of the situation, its weight a physical manifestation of the emotional load I've borne for so long. My finger slides to the trigger and squeezes.

The shot reverberates through the room, a thunderous echo. A fleeting wave of pain hits me with brutal force, the most excruciating sensation I've ever known, and then darkness... and silence.

The relief I felt, if indeed it was a relief, was profoundly calming. Surrounded by darkness, unable to see anyone or anything, a gentle buzzing filled the void, a soft hum that seemed to flow from all directions. Before I could react or begin to comprehend what was happening, a gradual brightness engulfed me, intensifying to the point where I imagined I had simply closed my eyes.

As I attempted to reopen my eyes, I found myself lying on my back, the familiar sight of my bedroom ceiling appearing blurry and indistinct. Whatever just happened felt like a whirlwind, so fast that I didn't even have a chance to comprehend it. My heart pounded in my chest, and I struggled to piece together the fragmented memories of the preceding moments. Was that death? The question echoed in my mind, laden with confusion and fear.

For a moment, I thought I might have blacked out from trying to harm myself. Maybe it was a panic attack or a fainting spell. It wouldn't have been the first time. Then, I remembered the pain—sharp, visceral, unmistakable—and there was no way I imagined that. The memory of it was too vivid, too real to be a mere figment of my imagination.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to focus. The air felt cool and reassuring as it filled my lungs, grounding me in the present. Slowly, the blurriness began to fade, and the familiar contours of my room came into sharper focus. It was just my bedroom, unchanged and ordinary, yet it felt different now, imbued with the weight of what I had just experienced. 

It was a horrific, bloody sight. The stark reality of it hit me as I lay there, the vivid crimson stains marking the aftermath of my actions. The sight was jarring, a brutal reminder of the pain and despair that had driven me to this point.

My blood was everywhere, scattered on my old, yellowing comforter and even on the walls and carpet. Panicking, I spun around and slammed my hands on the dresser, leaning in close to the attached mirror. I gasped as I saw blood completely covering my face, dripping onto my clothes. Glancing at the clock, it showed 4:23 in the afternoon. I must have been out for about an hour.

My uncle would be home within an hour, and he'd walk in to see this mess... He might think I was just being dramatic, faking it. But this wasn't something I could fake. I wanted this, needed this. The pressure was already building in the back of my head. I took a deep breath, reaching down for the gun that lay on the floor. Putting it back to my head.