Loving Suicidal

Chapter 1: It's A Dare, Nothing More.

Thank you to kaitlynrechtermann for helping me out!

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The burn drains down my throat, making tears build in my eyes. The room finally started to spin. The silence in the house made hot streams roll down my face like rain. The red streaks on my wrists finally stopped spitting blood, now just a mess of crusted dark red. The room stopped spinning as much, and I took another swig of the clear burning liquid, sending fire down my scratchy throat.

I heard a buzzing beside me. The rectangular box beating it's way on my nightstand. I reached over and grasped my phone, swiping up and jutting in the pass code to read the newest text message.

Sandra:

Hey, we thought it would be cool if you came over tonight. What'd ya say?

I tapped the screen and sent off a quick response. 

K, I'll be there in an hour.

An hour would give me enough time to sober up, and wash my wrist. How would I know that? I've been through this dance before. I know the routine and the steps I need to take to make this perfect. 

I stumbled down stairs and into the kitchen. The fridge door swung a little faster than I would've liked it too. I clasped my hand around a bottle of water, untwisting the cap and taking a sip. I sat down for 15 minutes, taking little sips of water and I texted my mom. 

Going to The twin's house tonight.

I set my phone on the table, washed my wrist, and headed upstairs, more focused and not stumbling as much as I did coming down. I put the vodka, the bloody rag, and the knife in the desk across from my bed. The little white box in the drawer glistened and made my throat burn, needing the taste and the soothing inhale of the tobacco. I grabbed it, and a little blue lighter, and headed back downstairs. Before I went outside, I checked my phone.

Mom:

Okay sweetie, love you!

I rolled my eyes and headed outside, not bothering to grab a jacket. Today was a pretty nice day for a mid September Saturday. This years weather was a lot warmer than last years, last years being around 56 degrees, while this year was a good 71 degrees. I love it. It makes smoking so much easier. 

I switched the lighter on, the fire dancing on the end like a balancing act, and held it to the end of the cigarette, taking a deep breathe. The tobacco smoke filled my lungs and soothed the itching from the back of my throat. When I couldn't hold anymore, I let the fire die, taking the cigarette away from my mouth, and exhale harshly. The itch in my throat gone, but I still was attracted to finish the last of the cigarette.

I take another breathe of the cigarette and sit down at the curb of the road. Nobody comes by here, and all the neighbors are probably napping, or can't see me anyway. There's never anyone around here.

My life isn't as good as everyone sees it to be. I hate it. Sure, I have good friends, good family, but deep down I know I'm not good enough for them. They could be so much more happy if I wasn't around.

"Excuse me." A low voice pulled me out of my thoughts. 

Now, you'd think my first reaction would be too look up at him, right? No. My first reaction is to hide my left wrist, and put out the cigarette. Then I look up at him.

He was about 6'3, his hair dark brown and his eyes a cloudy shade of light blue. He was the kind of hot that made any girl fall in love with him. Any girl except me. He had on a white shirt and dark blue basketball shorts. He was sweating like he ran 3 trips around the world.