Missing Streams

Goodbye - 16

As time went on, James and Simon came to notice I was more fucked up than I should have been. They noticed my dizziness and lack of energy, but there were other things they couldn't notice. They couldn't notice my bleeding thighs or my toxic blood. They couldn't notice the things that were truly wrong.

***

What was it now, a week after I had gotten the surgery? Probably more than that, but I couldn't remember. My lack of meds were really fucked up, and I didn't make it to class most days. Or any days, really. Long story short, I was not doing well. At all.

I mean, the leg part of my ordeal was going well. I didn't really know when it happened exactly, but somewhere along the way I had figured out how to walk without eating shit every five feet. Next step was figuring out how to run, but that was a big step.

A step I didn't intend on making.

Breaking into the medical wing was hard, so I couldn't get anything from them. An overdose was usually easiest to go with, but I guessed it might not have been too fast. I had other ways, anyways.

I could have snagged one of the guys' razors - I wasn't allowed one - but that seemed a little too small for my interests. I intended on going out with a bang.

The kitchen was pretty easy to break into.

***

I was satisfied with my chosen tool, but it could have been anything sharp. I couldn't tell what it technically was, but it was a knife, which was good enough for me. Good for dramatic effect.

I wasn't going to go out weak. It had never been an interest of mine, to just disappear one day. There were a few steps to going out with a bang.

Three notes I had written, all unique. One for James, tucked into his shirt. He deserved to hear my story after I left. I certainly wouldn't be sticking around to tell him. The second note was for Simon, slipped into his locker. It was always best when they found the note a little later. It talked a bit about being in a gay relationship, to be proud and confident, things like that. Once again, I wouldn't be there to tell him in person. Finally, I put my last note in my locker. I knew it probably wouldn't get passed around at story time or anything, so it was a bit more personal - addressed to whoever had to clean out my locker.

I was officially going out with a bang.

***

There was another way to be dramatic I hadn't even thought of until then, but decided was a good idea when it came to mind. My pyjama shirt was long sleeved - and even red at that - so it would be perfect to cut through the sleeves. I actually laughed when I thought of it, crediting myself for being so clever. It was perfect.

I made my bed before leaving the dorm room, smoothing out the sheets in complete darkness. I hoped for their sake that nobody would wake up too soon.

I went into the handicap shower stall, going so far as to remove my prosthetic. It was ironic, to destroy my body but no property. It sent a certain message, I thought.

My entire body felt numb as I went through these motions. It was a numbness I would have grown to hate if I wasn't so numb. I'd already betrayed the flesh of my thighs to feel something through this numbness - better yet to cure the numbness forever and send a strong message while I'm at it.

I didn't turn the shower on, knowing it would only bring people's attention if they were to wake up. Sitting in the shower, my blood would drain before pooling out of the stall - no one would be the wiser until they peered in.

Laughing quietly, I knew I was in one hell of a night.

***

It took a few minutes to compose myself, but once I was calm I knew there was no turning back.

I would start with my left hand, I had decided. After the first cut my hands would likely shake, and my dominant hand would do better while shaking. I couldn't bear the idea of an asymmetrical canvas.

So I started, the knife in my left hand. I would start near my armpit and cut down to the wrist, hopefully without removing the knife. This required precision I wasn't used to.

Digging the blade into my bicep, a wave of sensation washed over me. I didn't even know what I was feeling, but feeling anything was pure euphoria.

But I couldn't back down from this. This was a one way ticket, baby, and I was on the plane. I sliced through the delicate pale skin that still remained without a tan, cutting past my elbow and removing the blade before it could slice the tendons in my wrist. I still needed that hand.

Blood was flowing beautifully, staining the red fabric yet darker and filling the room with a metallic smell I couldn't get enough of. But I couldn't stop there, I wasn't done my job yet.

My right hand was shaking, as I had guessed it would, but I kept it steady as I brought the blade to my left arm. It sliced into the skin as my vision blurred slightly, bloodloss quickly getting to me. I made this cut faster, sacrificing precision if it meant completing the cut.

I found myself laughing as I dropped the knife, but I didn't really have too much energy to laugh in the first place. My left arm wasn't bleeding as strongly as the right arm, but I was used to that. Every piece of me seemed lopsided.

It started with my fingertips, quickly losing feeling all together. Then a burning sensation spread up my arms as I grew cold, colder and colder until I couldn't feel my arms anymore.

So cold I didn't even notice anyone had come in until the door flew open. So cold I couldn't tell who was standing over me.