Random Bits of My Brain

Hesitation

I sit at the table, my work spread out around me. The numbers blur together, what equation equals what? Does it even matter? Why do we need this? 

I tighten my fingers on my pencil, the tips turning an alarming shape of white. A single tear slides down my cheek, leaving a slight sheen and air of salt in its trail. 

I hear disturbances upstairs. Someone is coming.

As per usual, I quickly wipe my cheek, patting lightly at my eyes to make sure they don't look too puffy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my aunt's freshly permed hair, her head down and bent over her bag. My legs start to shake out of nerves, my muscles contracting and detracting. 

Should I tell her? What if I just worry her? 

"I'm going to go pick up your sister now," Aunt Maggie says, coming to stand behind me, one hand on my shoulder.

I give her a slight smile, nodding lightly to convene that I know. As she starts to leave, I turn back to my homework, taking it as a sign that I shouldn't tell her. 

But just as she starts to leave, she suddenly turns. "Oh dang. I left my keys upstairs." 

In her wake, I once again struggle, my pride battling against my fight-or-flight instinct. It will pass, right? Just a phase...nothing big...I'll be fine... 

Disturbing my thinking, Aunt Maggie once again comes down, giving me a cheerful smile. "I'm gonna go now! See you in 2 hours!"

"Bye, Aunt Mags!" I call back on instinct, a similar cheery smile on my face. 

As soon as the front door closes, my face falls, another barrage of tears tumbling down my round, round cheeks. I gasp, the sadness overwhelming me to the point that I drop my pencil and clutch my chest. I curl up in my seat, wrapping my arms around my knees, resting my eyes against them. 

Soon, my sobs subside, becoming small whimpers. 

Slowly, I stand up, unfolding my legs and wiping my face with the long sleeves of my black, piano sweater. Pushing my hair back into a firm ponytail, I take a deep breath. 

As I enter my room, I reach for the almost translucent, square bottle next to my computer desk. Untwisting the top, I settle into my big, big armchair, wrinkling my nose at the sharp smell. 

Such a shame, I think, that this is only 50%, 90% would've worked faster. 

Lifting the bottle of alcohol--that is, rubbing alcohol--to my lips, I cast one last glance around my familiar, 13-by-13 room, I tilt my head back, letting the liquid run down my throat, gulp after gulp. 

After my swallow, a burning hot pain pasts throughout my body. Dropping the bottle, my eyes squeeze shut, my mouth open in a silent scream. Falling off the chair, I curl into a ball on my carpeted floor, clawing at my chest. 

Just before the darkness took over me, I think, what have I done?

A/N: In case anyone actually reads this part, or this book at all, I just want to say 1)thanks for supporting me and 2)this is based off of personal experience. I (clearly) have never committed suicide, so I don't know what it actually feels like. However, from reading forums and the Whisper App, I have learned that people regret committing, or rather, attempting to commit, suicide regretted it. I was depressed, and sometimes it comes back, and I wish I could make myself tell someone, someone I trust and love, who also loves me. I have had thoughts like this before, but I have never taken the final step. Please, PLEASE, tell someone if you feel the same. No one deserves to feel this way, and scientifically, humans aren't built to feel like this. So, there's that. Have fun reading my other stuff(?)