Let Me Save You

Chapter 29

"What do you think happened?" Who? "I'm not sure. Is she going to be okay?" Bret? "She should be fine, when she wakes up, come and get me. I want to check her stitches, and see how her donated blood is reacting to her." I guess she left? Where am I? I kept hearing this annoying beeping noise, and I was ready to smash the machine. My eyes felt heavy and my lungs, my poor, aching lungs, they felt as though they could collapse. I had this intense pain all around my body, and I felt a hand on my own.

"Emily, why would you do that to yourself? Your beautiful, perfect, flawless self? What could have possibly made you want to end your life so badly? Did you think about me when you did it? Was it something I did?" I lifted my hand and put it over his. "None of this was your fault." I choked out, my mouth could not have been any dryer. "Oh thank God, Emily. Do me a favor Em, open your eyes." I tried so hard but just couldn't manage to look at him. "Emily. For me now, come on. Let me see those eyes." I tried again, this time succeeding. All I saw was white, and I was hoping that I was dead. Sadly, I was mistaken. Terribly mistaken. "Emily! Good, keep your eyes open for me, okay? Please." He reached up and pressed a red button that was on the wall behind my bed. Nothing happened, well not at first, but then two nurses came rushing into the room.

"What is it?" The brunette asked. "She's awake." Bret said, kissing my hand, and making me sleepy because of the gentle touch. "Alright honey, you can sit up, but be extra careful. It took a good while to stitch you up." It took the two nurses and Bret to pull me up into a comfortable position. "Thank you so much for all the help, but when can she go home?"

"She can leave in a couple days, maybe a week. But the way the huge cut looks, it was self inflicted. Emily, you are going to have to go to a treatment center-" All of a sudden, I was up. I hated those words and also 'rehab'.

"No! I don't want to go! Bret please don't make them take me! I hate hospitals, and I hate the thought of a treatment center! Bret please!" I couldn't even try and stop the words and tears. I was thrashing around, kicking, yelling, everything. All was calm and good until she had to fucking bring up treatment. I'm not a pshyco. I am perfectly fine, I just handle my stress differently than a regular person.

Bret spoke again. "Emily, you tried to kill yourself! What do you want me to do? I'm not an adult, I can't sign you out of here, and I can't decline treatment for you! It's either you want help, or you don't!"

"Bret, do you think I asked to be this way? Do you honestly think I like having all these marks, scars, and scabs all over me? Well I fucking don't! You don't understand!"

"Please be careful Emily!" The nurse shouted. "What the fuck for, just let me die. I deserve it anyway, everyone hates me and wants me dead so why not just give them what they want! Let my stitches rip, and when they do, just let the life trickle out of me. This is my life, my body, so I should be able to choose what I do. This only effects me." I sat back down, an intense pain coming from all around my body again. "Do you even remember what you did?" Bret, with tears in his eyes, asked me. "It's a little blurry. All I really remember is shutting the bathroom door, and then hearing you scream for me-what the hell is up with my side?!" This pain was bringing me to tears, well more than I already was. "You really don't remember?" "If I remembered, would you think that I would have denied remembering?" "Fine. Look under the cover."

I was very hesitant, not really knowing what to expect. Then, I gathered as much courage as possible, and brought the covers up and held them there, breathless. "What the fuck?! How many stitches do I have? How much blood did I loose?!" It started to get harder to breath, and I felt like I was going to pass out. Again. It all started rushing back to me. The text, and thrashing upstairs, the razor, and Bret having to find me. I'm just a screw up. I can't believe that I did that to him.

"Fine, you win okay? Send me to the damn treatment center. I won't protest. Go ahead then, take me there." I put the covers over my clothesless self once more, and placed my hand on Bret's. "I'm sorry. I really am. I can't live with myself knowing that you were the one that had to find me in my weakest state. I really am sorry."

"I'm sorry too Emily, but that was a stupid decision. You can always talk to me about anything, and don't ever tell me that I don't understand. Do you remember my little niece? Jessica? Yeah, she self harmed for eight years, and then she couldn't deal with it anymore, and took her own life. I guess she's at peace now because she didn't have to deal with all of us grieving. She didn't have to live with it anymore. Do you now how old she was?" I shook my head 'no'. "She was sixteen, Em. Just like you."