WARNING: the beginning is quite upsetting and possibly triggering as there are mentions of self harm and suicide. If you feel uncomfortable, skip to the end of the italics.
~18th June~
Your POV
I don't know how long I cried, I don't know how many times I drew the blade across my wrist, and I don't know how many times I cried out Dan's name. But when the tears stopped, and I sat in a pool of my own blood, and my throat and lungs burned from screaming, I decided to finally do it.
I grabbed the rope I bought last Sunday and walked into the kitchen.
I scribbled a quick note saying how I hated myself, how I couldn't live anymore and how I loved Dan too much to have a life without him.
I placed it on the bench then dragged the rope towards the kitchen sink.
With shaky hands I tied the rope around the sink, then my neck. It itched my skin, but I didn't care. It was going to be over soon, anyway.
I gulped and the tears began to roll down my cheeks. But I wasn't going to give up.
"I love you, Dan."
I leaned forward.
The pain was unbearable, but I couldn't lean back. I was willing to suffer temporary pain than live in pain forever.
My vision became fuzzy and black spots began to appear.
This is it.
But it wasn't. As I began to close my eyes, ready for the Grim Reaper, or whatever happens when you die, my front door shut and I heard the cheerful voice of my best friend, Mark.
He was making his way towards the kitchen, where I was close to death, singing All Star by Smashmouth.
The handle for the kitchen door clicked, and I heard the squeak of it opening.
He stopped singing and cried out.
The cheeriness in his voice had been replaced by horror as he repeated, "no," over and over again, pulling me back and undoing the knot in the rope tied around my neck.
He held me in his arms, his warm tears splashed on my cheeks and he softly whispered to me.
"Stay alive, Y/N. Don't leave me. Don't leave now..."
-
I wake up in a panic, sweat soaking the cream sheets.
I turn over to see a soft face, eyes closed and sleeping peacefully.
My heart rate slows as I smile down at him, my boyfriend.
Although him not being awake to hold me and tell me everything is okay, and that I'm better than I was, I like seeing him sleep. I like knowing he doesn't suffer nightmares of the past like I do.
Knowing I won't get anymore sleep, I get out of bed and make my way towards the kitchen to cook breakfast.
Trying to ignore the sink as much as possible, I brew myself a coffee and take the eggs and bacon out of the fridge.
It's funny, I think back to my life in London, and before the sink incident, and how I'd never wake up before ten o'clock in the morning, now I wake up when the sun rises.
I did that to myself. I gave myself that nightmare I have every single night. I gave myself those scars. Not just the ones on my wrist that will haunt me until they fade, but the scars in my mind.
