“H-He’s gone! He’s gone!” I heard Denise sob. She was clutching onto her child, while sitting on the ground. Her body was rocking back and forth, trying to calm herself. I felt myself taking a few steps closer to my sister-in-law, “D-Denise?” I stuttered out.
Her head snapped up and her gaze fell on me. An evil glare covered her tear-stained face, “You!” she screamed at me. She jumped up to her feet. Her shaky finger pointed at me, while the other hand held onto Theo, “You ruined my life! You should’ve died, Niall! Greg deserved to live, not you!”
“…I know.” I whispered. Denise pulled herself up to her feet, her son still securely in her arms. She slowly walked over to me, until she was right in my face, “What do you think you should do, Niall?”
“C-Commit suicide,” I whispered in reply. She smirked, “Correct,” she replied. She lifted up her hand and pointed to something behind me. I looked behind me to see a random light shining down on something. I walked closer and saw that it was a knife.
I picked it up and stared at it for a moment. I lifted up the blade, and then saw something reflect on the surface. I immediately turned around and saw that it was Greg. He had blood soaking his clothes. He was wearing the same outfit he was wearing the day of the crash. His skull had an indent and was pouring blood. Different pieces of glass and metal had been stabbed into his body. He was frightening.
Greg grabbed the knife from my hands, before I could react. Then, I felt a giant sharp pain in my back. I gasped out in pain and I felt myself falling to the ground. Suddenly, I felt another pain, and I saw that Greg was now holding a bloody knife. I screamed as pain overwhelmed and me and everything went black.
*
I woke up screaming. I immediately silenced myself when I realized that I was just in my room. I sat up, immediately switching on the light. I was still gasping for breath as I looked around, making sure Greg wasn’t here.
I let out a sigh of relief when I realized that I was all alone. I fell back into the bed, so my head was pressed against my pillow. My hands wiped down my face, and then I stared at the ceiling.
It’s happening again. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. I hate that feeling, but it never goes away. It’s like your whole body is empty. I feel like I can’t feel anything anymore. Happiness? Gone. Anger? Gone. Anxiety? Gone.
My head scares me, too. Greg isn’t the only one. The thoughts are scary. I used to be the happiest person in the world, it changed so fast… now I have suicidal thoughts, and they scare me.
I glanced at my clock to see that it was four in the morning. I laid back down in my bed, tossing my covers up to my shoulders. I tossed and turned a little, and realized that I wouldn’t be able to sleep immediately.
I pulled myself out of bed and walked down the hall, into the kitchen. I switched the light on and opened up the freezer. I pulled out a container of ice cream. I just wanted to eat something that tasted good. I set it on the counter and then opened the drawer full of silverware.
I was about to pull out a spoon, when I saw something else. The faint moonlight outside the window, reflected against a knife in the drawer. I picked up the knife, the blade rested against the palm of my other hand. I closed the drawer and walked over to the counter. I leaned my back against the edge of the granite, and held the knife firmly in my hand. I looked at blade. It looked perfect.
I set the knife down for a moment, so I could look at my wrist. I lifted it up, close to my face, so I could point out each vein. What would happen if I sliced them? Would all the blood leave my body, no, would I finally leave this world? Will I join Greg? Maybe I won’t ever go join Greg; maybe I’ll end up going to hell. I deserve to, after all.
I picked up the knife again, holding it in my right hand, while my left hand was held out in front of me. My left hand was bent backwards, so my wrist was sticking out. I put the blade up to my wrist, and I could feel the cool metal against my wrist.
It won’t take long. Just press the knife into your wrist and slice it across. It will be really fast, yeah, painful, but you deserve it. After all, you made your brother die, didn’t you?
I pulled the knife a little, so I could swipe it across my wrist. I was about to press it against my wrist and let all the blood drain out of me, but something stopped me. A voice in the back of my head.
Harry. Liam. Louis. Zayn. Mum. Dad.
I set the knife back on the counter and let out a shaky breath. I couldn’t do it. I leaned against the counter and hid my face in my hands. I wanted to cry, I wanted to pour out all my built up feelings as tears, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let it out, they were so built up, that they wouldn’t come out.
I grabbed the knife and set it back in the cabinet and trudged back to my bedroom. I walked in and crawled back into bed. I stared at the pitch-black ceiling.
You killed your own brother, but you don’t even have the guts to kill yourself. What the hell is wrong with you, Niall?
