All Alone

7

All there is is darkness and my body is numb. Am I dead did my attempt work?

My eyes flutter open and I intake a lung-full of air. I'm laying in a hospital bed with Taylor sleeping in a chair next to me.

I smile.

My wrist is still bleeding but not as much and a bandage is wrapped tightly around it for pressure. My skin is even paler if that's even possible and I still feel lightheaded.

Taylor stirs and bursts into tears when she realises I'm awake.

"Thank God you're ok!" She exclaims.

"Why didn't you just tell me? We could have done something together. Your situation is only gonna get worse if you do nothing, " Taylor explains.

I nod.

"Tell the teachers about Jessica bullying you," Taylor says.

I nod.

"I almost lost my bestie," Taylor says and I begin to cry.

"I promise," I mumble.

"Damn you look awful," Taylor says. "Thanks Tay," I say. "Sorry," she says. "Where's your mom and Robert?" I ask. "They went to get lattes," Taylor says.

"Hi," Rob and Taylor's mom says.

"Hi," I say smiling weakly.

"It's never a good idea to commit suicide darling," Taylor's mom says. "Yeah I know that now," I sigh. "There's always another way to solve your problems. God gave you life. Cherish it, " Rob says.

I feel really bad at that point and all I can do is nod.

What was I thinking? Suicide isn't the way.

"You need to tell," Taylor pleads.

"Tell what?" Rob and Taylor's mom question. "Go on," Taylor urges. I sigh and tell them my very sad, tragic story.

"I'm terribly sorry. No wonder you tried to kill yourself," Taylor's mom says.

I nod.

"It's still not a good enough reason though," I sigh. "That's right," Rob says smiling.

Visiting hours end and Taylor, her mom and stepdad leave.

Nurse Abby brings around dinner.

To be honest the hospital food really sucks. The soup tastes like dishwashing soap and the hard slice of toast tastes like sawdust. I reluctantly swallow the untasted food and slowly drift to sleep.

When I wake the sun is beaming through the window gently warming my face.

Dr. Stewart comes in and records my heart rate, pulse and temperature. Following him comes Nurse Abby again. She treats my slit wrist and bandages it again.

Social workers begin to come in and question about life and put me on antidepressants.

I start to tell them about dad's drunk ways, his abuse and late nights. They just nod noting everything.

Suddenly I find myself in floods of tears. "We can help you honey," a female social worker says holding my hand.

I nod.

"Thank you," I whisper.

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Things are looking up.

Read on.