Ch. 22- Broken

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        When I got in the car accident, I thought nothing in the world could ever be more painful than during my lifetime. I had broken a couple bones and was in the hospital for a while. But, when Jo said those few simple words, I felt like I had been in a million car accidents.
 
            I felt like I was going to vomit. All the food had eaten would slowly creep up my throat, but I quickly swallowed it back down.
 
            I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry away all the pain in my heart; all the tears would wash it away. I wanted to bury myself under the duvet of my bed. I would just stuff my face into my pillow and just let it all out.
 
            I wanted to scream, get mad at this world. My life was crumbling apart and I wanted to get mad about it. I would collapse on the floor and scream until my throat was sore.
 
            But, I didn’t do any of that.
 
            “Congratulations, Jo,” I said. I can’t believe my voice didn’t shake or anything.
 
            “I can’t believe it!” Jo happily exclaimed, “I’m actually going to get married to Asher! This is the best day of my life! The ring was one of the presents under the tree. Asher took it out of my hands, as I was looking at it confused. Then he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him! I said yes, of course! I’m the luckiest girl in the world right now! I know I’m a little young, but we love each other and that’s all that matters!”
 
            Be happy for her! Tell her that you’re looking forward to her wedding. Tell her that she makes a great couple with Asher. Tell her that Asher will make a great husband. Just lie.
 
            “That’s great, but I can’t talk right now. I really have to go. You can talk to me later, though,” I lied. I didn’t even care if I sounded fake or not.
 
            “Okay, bye Niall!” She cheerfully exclaimed. I hung up and then threw my phone at the wall, causing it to break. I heard the screen shatter, once it hit the ground.
 
            I walked over to my phone. Once I was above it; I assessed the damage. Yeah, it’s broken, but I don’t give a damn. I leaned towards the wall. My forehead pressed against the wall. I positioned my hands, so my palms were pressed against the wall on either side of my head.
 
            I can’t do this anymore. I slowly climb up, but I’m just pushed down to the bottom once I am near the top. The cycle just won’t stop. I can’t keep living like this, no, I can’t stay here anymore. I have to go where Greg wants me to be, in hell.
 
            I clenched my fists and pressed them against the wall.
 
            Why did I ever have to meet Jo? I said it was fate, and I guess in the end, it was. I was meant to die. I was meant to be heartbroken. It was my punishment for letting my own brother die. Besides, it will be nice to get away from all the nightmares.
 
            I slammed my fists against the wall. It caused them to sting, but didn’t indent the wall. I turned around, so my back was facing the wall. I stared at the other side of the room for a moment, before rampaging through the room.
 
            I picked up my lamp and threw it at the wall. I threw everything off the top of my dresser. I tore apart my bed, angrily throwing the covers all over the room. I knocked a couple different CDs off of my desk and threw one at the wall, causing it to break. I yanked my alarm clock out of the wall and threw it at the wall with every ounce of anger in my body. I threw it across the room, and it broke apart, like my heart. I stomped over to my nightstand and tore open the drawer. The drawer accidentally came out, landing on the floor with a ‘thud’. The contents of the drawer spilled all over the floor.
 
            I saw the knife and a couple papers covering the floor around my feet. I crouched down by the mess and turned the drawer back up. I stuffed the multiple notes addressed to Jo back in. As I was cleaning up, I saw my last suicide note. The writing was messy, showing that I was in a hurry. I couldn’t tell if I was trying to ask for forgiveness or letting out my feelings. I guess it was a bit of both.
 
            I shoved it back in the drawer, not wanting to read it. Now, there was only one content on the floor that fell out of the drawer. It was the knife.
 
            I picked up the large knife. I gripped the handle and the blade lay on the palm of my hand. I lifted the knife up and ran my finger along the cool metal. My finger lightly ran down the sharp edge, creating a thin white line on my thumb.
 
            I pulled myself up and sat down on the edge of my bed. I rolled up the bottom of my shirt, so part of my stomach was exposed. I glanced at the blade, catching my reflection in it.
 
            My eyes had dark circles under it. Beads of sweat were collected on my forehead. My chest was heaving up and down, due to my heavy breathing. A furious glare ran across my face. My eyes were filled with depression, tears building up in the corners.
 
            I looked at my stomach and took a deep breath. I exhaled a shaky breath. Okay, I can do this. No regrets.
 
            I brought the blade back, and once it was far back, I quickly shoved it towards my stomach. I stopped when it was about an inch away.
 
            The blade slipped out of my hand and landed on my lap.
 
            Okay, I don’t think I can stab myself in the stomach. What if I slowly eased the knife inside of me?
 
            I picked up the knife again and pressed the tip against my stomach. I put pressure on the handle and gasped as it broke the skin. A drop of blood spilled out of the newly formed wound. I tried to push the knife further into my stomach, but it was just too painful for me.
 
            The wound was pretty nasty. Blood was running out of it in a slow stream. After a couple minutes, the blood stopped. All that was left was a small, blood-stained cut and a small trail of dried blood. I didn’t really care to wash off the blood, so I just pushed my shirt back down.
 
            Okay, I can’t kill myself with a knife. I set the knife back on my bed and threw on my shoes. I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and then walked over to the kitchen. I pulled open one of the drawers and found a pocketknife. I can use that if my first plan doesn’t succeed.
 
            I headed out the door and got in my car. It’s time to go back to the bridge.

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