The Misfits

Chapter One: The End

I crashed so hard this time. Here I was standing in my bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror, ready to take my own life. Over a boy? No, it was much more than that. My problems, my pain, had always run deep. Perhaps he had just sent me over the edge. Let's be honest...I had been standing at the edge for a long time now. All I needed was a little push.

As I stared back at my reflection, my eyes widened. I didn't recognize the person looking back at me. I hadn't recognized her in a very long time. Her once hazel eyes were not so vibrant anymore. In fact, as I leaned in closer, I couldn't see any light in them. Dark circles now replaced the skin under her eyes. Her mouth hadn't the slightest trace of wrinkles from smiling.

I had never been cheery, per se, even when I was younger. I had never been bubbly or overly-outgoing, but there was a time, years ago, when I had been content. I just couldn't remember when that was, no matter how hard I tried. I know it sounds cliché, but it really was like a dark cloud hang constantly hang over my head. With it came a fog or a haze that I could never shake. I was never one hundred percent there anymore. And when I tried to reach back to grab onto happier times, my hand would just disappear into the mist.

So, here I was. At the end of my rope. A bottle of my anti-depressants clenched tightly in my right hand.

I had thought about doing this.... practically every day for months. Was I really going to go through with this? It had been all so clear just five minutes ago. It would be quick; it would end my pain. But, now, I stood frozen, my breath hitched and my heart beating fast. What if it didn't work? What if it was just more pain? But I guess there was only one way to find out.

I inhaled deeply and unscrewed the cap. Delicately, I turned the bottle upside down and dropped a six pills into my palm. I became almost fixated on their appearance—oval and yellow and smooth. I ran my thumb over the top of them. I was stalling. Why was I stalling?

This is what I had wanted. I wanted to just put a stop to all of this pain. And this was my chance. So, why wasn't I jumping to take it?

I breathed in deeply once more and then shut my eyes tight. With one swift motion, I took the pills in my mouth and grabbed the glass of water I had poured for myself. Another deep breath. Shakily, I brought the glass up to my lips. But, then, suddenly, I heard the front door open.

"Chelsea!" my mom called. "I'm home early!"

I couldn't respond, though, and I began to panic as I heard my mother coming up our wooden staircase. So many thoughts, so many words, so many ideas rushed through my head. What was I going to do?

My mom's footsteps were getting closer and closer and then she knocked on the bathroom door. She called out my name again, this time with a little more panic. In one final attempt to save my plan, I worked up the courage to take a gulp of water. But one of the pills hit the back of my throat, and I gagged them up. It was over. My one chance was over. And now, I would have to explain everything to my mother.

I fell onto my knees, tears pouring out of my eyes. This wasn't supposed to have happened. None of this was supposed to have happened.

"Open the door!" my mom begged me.

Before sinking back against the wall, I unlocked the door. My mom flung it open and our eyes met. Then, she looked around the room. The pills I had spit out were on the floor, the half-empty pill bottle was still on the counter, and the glass of water had been knocked over and had spilled on the tile.