Suicide

Breathe in, breathe out. It's Tuesday night. You run your fingers through your hair and feel a tear roll down your face. You reach for it, wiping it away then return to the task at hand. Your suicide note. You want people to know what happened, what pushed you to this. A soft knock sounds at your door. You turn as it opens, covering the blank sheet of paper on your desk with your hand as your little sister comes in, teary eyed and trembling. Her pink princess night gown swishes with her every step. She tells you she's had a nightmare. You hold her and tell her it'll be okay. That she's going to be fine, but you can't say the same for yourself.

Your sister wonders off back to bed, not knowing that was the last time she will ever see you alive. You know what you're going to write.

I loved all of you and this isn't any of your faults. Something in me changed and I just couldn't get past another day. Mornings were full of new opportunities. New opportunities to be bullied. Days are just obstacles. Annoying obstacles that I have to get out of bed and pretend to be happy to get around. I'm finished faking smiles. I'm finished being called those nasty things people call me. I messed up.
So... I'm fixing my mistake. I love you guys. Goodbye.

Satisfied with the note, you remove your sweatshirt and bare your scars. Such ugly things people thought they were, but you found a certain beauty in them. A beauty that defined you. You retrieve your blade from your dresser drawer, placing it over your wrist, pressing down hard. Harder than you've ever pressed. And slice the vein below. A thought crosses your mind. They won't care. With trembling hands and darkening vision you do the same to your other wrist. There is now blood everywhere. Tears stream down your face, but you make no move to stop them. No one will care.

Your door opens once more, but you're already gone – collapsed onto the bloody mess that is your bed. An agonizing, high pitched scream fills the air. Your little sister runs to you, screaming at you to wake up, pink fabric turning red. She's screaming your name, hoping and praying so forcefully that maybe she could wake you up. She screams your name, then your mother's, then your father's. Your brother runs into the room and cries out for you as well. He runs to wake your parents. Your mom gets there first, and collapses at the sight. Your dad is the only one who makes no sound, trying to keep it together for everyone else. He finds the notes and reads it aloud. A catastrophic sob erupts from him, and no longer able to hold himself together, he runs to you. He holds your body in his arms, bloodying his pyjamas. Your mother retrieves her cell phone, dialling the numbers with teary eyes and shaking hands.

"Yes, my daughter has commi–" she can finish the sentence. She can't accept what has happened. This kind of thing doesn't happen to her, only to other people. In a faint whisper, she says the word. "–suicide."

The police arrive, along with an ambulance, to take you away. Your mother goes with you, but she knows you're not coming back. Your father takes your brother and sister to your grandparents' house. He explains what has happened, then leaves, driving to the hospital. He's crying so hard that he can't see. He can't see the busy road. He can't see that he's driven into the oncoming lane. The two cars collide, killing both drivers instantly.

Your mother is wondering what is taking your father so long. She pushes the thought away when the doctor walks towards her. He simply shakes his head and your mother's hopeful expression shatters, now in hysterics. The doctor apologizes, offers her a consoling hug, and some coffee. Your mother stopped drinking coffee last year, but now needs something to help cope with what is unraveling before her. As she sips her coffee, her cell rings. She receives the news of your father, the accident was fatal. She hails a cab and goes to your grandparents house with your brother and sister. Upon entry, four hopeful expressions fall as she shakes her head. They ask about your father and all she says is.