A Thousand Tiny Nightmares

The Beginning

I sat there alone for hours.
My heart beating so hard and so fast that it moved my body back and forth.
I could still breath.
I was looking at something, but what?
A painting, a person, I wasn't sure.
Maybe it was in my head. Probably.
I looked down. Wasn't I sitting?
No. I was laying.
I looked at my arm. Covered in blood. It was pretty, my skin pale and the blood flowing across it. Did I black out? Yes. I looked back where I was before. It was the ceiling. The fan.
Slowing turning, not even creating wind.
It was so dead and the sunset laid across my room through my window throwing shadows from the faint curtains.
Was I dead? No.
I was dying.
I felt like I was falling asleep, you know?
My mind slipped and my head got heavy but my body was weightless. I wasn't gone yet. But I was trying. Trying to let go. Trying to bleed out. I remember.
The knife was still clenched in my hand. I went to take another stab, a deeper one. A hand stopped mine. I looked up as fast as I was able as I felt a sting on my arm. A towel. This person. Who was he? He wrapped my arm up and threw the knife on the bed next to us. My blood seeped through the towel but he wrapped around another. He held me and was crying. I couldn't see his face, my eye sight was weary. I tried and made out short hair, and glasses. I could hear him cry. Begging me to stay. But why? My mind was racing everywhere and no where at once. I tried to focus but I was losing too much blood. Who was this person? I was gone.
I woke up in a hospital bed. It took a second to comprehend what had happened. I was suddenly frantic internally wondering who this person was. My blood sugar went up and the nurses rushed in. They tried to calm me down. Suddenly a boy came out from the shadowed chair in the corner. It was my person. How did he know what I was doing. I didn't call him I know that. That's the only thing I knew for sure. I wouldn't have, and my phone was dead. I made sure of it. As soon as I saw him my blood pressure went down and the nurses left. He sat down and looked at me with tears in his eyes. I didn't know what to say. This is what I was afraid of. Failing. But there I was, still breathing with the only one I love crying at my side. I froze, I couldn't speak. I looked at the nightstand and the clock said 3:30 am. I was only out for a few hours. Unless it had been days. But I had to eat and I couldn't have have gone into a coma from blood loss. I don't think. I sat up as he lifted his head, tears streaming down his puffy red face. I felt horrible. How could I have put him through this? That's what he wanted to say but didn't, he knew it'd be selfish, and he knew I knew what I did was selfish. I stood up, praying to a God that might not be real, to have the strength to do so. I did. He lifted himself, seeming more weak than I felt. He fell on to me, crying hysterically. It took a second but I managed to remain steady and hold him. Which seemed impossible. I loved this boy but I didn't want to live. I also didn't know how to tell him.
"I'm okay..." he said, whipping the tears from his face. "...are you?" he asked.
I stared at him, and smiled. Then I slowly grabbed his face and kissed him. Not a sloppy kiss but a kiss to let him know that I love him and I won't leave him.
Then I woke up.