Don't give glitter to a zombie

Waking up

The bathroom fades away, leaving me back in the darkness, still pushing the dream away I attempt to relax back into the space until a familiar feeling of waking up without opening your eyes. I grin ,it's was all a bad dream, point me, scary subconscious zero, I do a victory stretch only to find I'm not in my bed, still refusing to open my eyes I go back into my original position, now noting the huge sting coming from my left arm and now my entire body.
A feeling of dread crawls its way into my brain, urging me to open my eyes, I still fight back ,not wanting to face the reality of the situation. After a brief argument with my self I open my eyes only to close them again to hold back tears and a scream. I was right about not being in my bed. I'm in the bathtub.  I'm in the bathtub full of bloody water. I'm in the bathtub full of bloody water that I watched my self die in. I'm dead. Or am I?
I do the whole touch every part of your body to make sure your not a ghost test, I'm still here. I give a shaky glance at my left wrist, yep, that's a cut open wrist, that happen. Now the ultimate test, I put my right hand on the pulse in my neck, hopping for at least the slightest of movement. Nothing. I gave a defeated glare at the knife on the toilet seat, still there ,only now it's covered in dried blood.
Dried blood.... How long have I been..."sleeping"? The bloody bath water is cold right now, I stand up, letting the water rush off of me, before stepping out, I look down to see I never took off my clothes or my shoes before ....."sleeping"... I shake my head in disappointment ,I know how hard it is to get blood out of clothing ,due to being a girl who at 16 only stared her period last year.
I look in the mirror and gasp, I look ...different. The normally bubbly red head now looks like a meth addict, my normally bright red hair was now dull and the dried blood in it added darker spots in it. My skin which normally peachy was now pale yellow almost greenish, my freckles now Browns and black. Now my eyes are what scared me. Their normally bright icy blue, but now the iris is stark white, save for the few speckles of blue that dotted the blank area.
I look dull, washed out, faded, dead. Oh wait, I may be that last one. I gave another sigh before noticing I hadn't breathed at all ,only letting air out for sighs. Could I talk? Or did I lose that, I glare at my self in the mirror, and began to speak what was in my mind.
"I'm Marry Wiston and I just killed my self," a scratchy, strained voice erupted from my throat ,startling me. That did not sound like me at all, my voice is bright and bubbly, not a chain-smoker's!
I hit the sink hard with both my arms out of frustration ,bad idea, my left arm spiked with pain, forcing me to look at it, the wound now opened up more ,due to the skin moving to bend my elbow, the cut was down to the bone. Oh god! I need to call 911! But.... I won't. I don't know why but something tells me it won't end any better if I do call for help.
I suddenly felt dirty, like my skin was crawling away from the dried blood. I slip my clothes off and drain the tub, letting the bloody water drain. I start the shower and let the water rinse away my bad memory's ...and the blood, I definitely need this blood to be gone. Slowly I get out and reach for a towel ,finding non I growl, can this day get any worse, probably not, cus you know, I'm dead. I set out of the bathroom with a hand towel covering my left forearm and a first ad kit, I made my way to my room, closing the door behind me silently.
I placed the first ad kit on my bed and quickly put on a t-shirt and jeans, before sitting on the bed. I open the kit to see a lot of hard to understand stuff in it, I think for a moment before giving up and grabbing my laptop from the bedside table only to find that it's on, a google tab is open and in the search box is "most painless death possible" I shiver and quickly type in "how to stitch a wound " and "how do I apply gaz".
After reading a few tutorials I carefully sew the skin on both sides of the gash until it was closed, then wrapped a heavy lair of gaz around my wrist to my elbow. I clean up the kit and quietly pace it back into the bathroom , then falling onto my bed, melting into the sheets, for the first time after waking up I felt relaxed. I turn on my side hoping to actually sleep some but when I turn I come face to face with my alarm clock, 5:13am , school starts in three hours. I wonder if dying is an excuse for missing school?