Dying to know

Supercool client

My phone started vibrating, an indication I needed to leave right now. Three weeks went by so slowly. I'd stopped researching ways to end my life and was forced to fill up my free time another way.

The research had become a hobby for me. A dark, twisted hobby but one nonetheless. Now, I had more free time and decided to take walks until I realised I hated rain and 90% of the time it was rainy here.

This sucked.

I was kinda looking forward to seeing Dr. Morse again. I could tell my happy-go-lucky attitude had surprised him. Actually, my entire story probably did. I wonder if he told his colleagues about me. Or his wife at the dinner table.

Right before I wanted to walk through the door of his practice, my phone started to ring again. I swear if this was him telling me today was cancelled, I'd ... I'd probably just drive back home and mope. Let's face it, I'm not the angry confrontational type.

"Hey, sorry to call you on you day off, Mila," the voice on the other end of the line said. It was my boss. She had permission to call me any time because we really get along. My other colleagues felt threatened when they learned but it cooled down very fast after they realised I didn't get the special treatment.

"No problem. I wasn't doing anything special. What's up?" I asked. We were friends but we weren't 'I'm-telling-you-about-my-weird-thoughts-friends'. She didn't know about any of this and that was exactly how I wanted to keep this.

"Ugh, it's almost wine-time. My husband is acting like a child again. Seriously, I have two kids instead of one! Anyway, there was a reason why I called you. The Gilette file, I can't find it anywhere," she ranted.

"How's that possible? I put it on your desk with a lovely post-it note," I answered. I wrote something stupid like 'I want a raise, bitch' on the note. So I really hoped no-one other than her had found it.

"My desk... my desk..." she muttered while I heard the rustling of papers. It was my mistake. Her desk is a pigsty. I should've known better.

"Here it is! Thank God, I'm meeting the clients in five minutes," she sighed in relief. "Thanks! Oh and no, you're not getting a raise. Bye!"

"See ya tomorrow!" I ended the conversation. I noticed Dr. Frank's door was open. Probably a hint that I could step in his office when I was ready.

I knocked anyway and stepped in when he asked me to.

"Sorry about that, work call," I told Frank while I got seated at his desk again.

"That's okay. What does your work entail?" he asked, diving right in. I guess he wasn't one for small talk.

"Advertising. Those annoying commercials you see on TV? I helped make some of those happen. I pitch ideas. As a kid I had a huge imagination and now I get to pour that into a job," I explained. "My boss lost my file, so she called but she found it in her huge pile of papers."

"Do you like your job?" Frank asked.

"I love it! I really feel at home when I'm working. My boss and I really click, we even get drinks together in our spare time. You're not gonna find anything there, doc," I teased a little.

"I had to try," he shot back. "On a more serious note, you say your boss is a good friend, does she know ab-"

"About this?" I pointed at his desk while interrupting him. "No, the only people who know are my sister and you."

"Right. So did anything happen since the last time we met?" he asked.

"I listened. I didn't try it again, if that's what you wanna hear," I answered him. It almost felt like he was a dad who wanted to forbid his daughter to get a tongue piercing.

"I didn't mean that in particular but I'm glad to hear that," Frank told me in his usual calming voice.

"It was kinda boring though. I had more time because I wasn't researching ways to die anymore. I actually had the idea to go out into the world. The rainy world. What have you done to me, doc?" I joked. I constantly repressed the urge to call him Frank.

"I'm sorry you had to endure the rain," he told me and I swear there was a little sarcastic tone in his voice. Second session and he was already breaking his shrink-character. I liked this one.

"I figured we'd pick up where we left off last time?" he suggested, getting back into his professional demeanor.

"Right, my second attempt," I said, "Let me think... after I got over the shame of failing the first time, I decided to get back on that horse and try again. My first thought was jumping off of my apartment building but I'm not that keen on heights. Maybe we should work on that? My fear of heights?" I asked Frank.

"Do you want to work on your fear of heights?" Frank asked.

"No," I sighed. "I'm avoiding the real issue, I know," I rolled my eyes. I think I saw a tiny smile on Frank's face but it could've been my imagination.

"Right, so I was sitting in front of my computer wondering what exactly I wanted to search for. I decided on reading articles about the most frequently used ways because I knew those ways had to be effective. A lot of them seemed painful though, I mean, burning yourself? I want to die, I don't want to torture myself doing so. I'm kind of a chicken," I confessed.

"Don't write the chicken-part down. I want to be documented as a supercool client," I laughed when I noticed he was eagerly writing.

"Consider it done. So, you were researching the statistics..." he encouraged me to go on.

"Yes! Another one was hanging yourself. I even watched some tutorials on how to knot the rope because that always seemed complicated. I figured that could work quickly without too much pain," I explained. Frank had stopped writing and listened to me with his undivided attention.

I stopped talking for a second but Frank stayed silent too. I hated that little trick where shrinks use silence as a way to get their client to start talking again. It always worked on me. I hated those awkward moments of silence.

"Lucky me, I had some rope lying around in my apartment. I wasn't even obligated to leave the house for this. So, I decided not to waste any time. I practiced tying the knot a few times until I was sure I had it right. It's actually easier than it looked. But then there was something I hadn't thought about," I said. With a sigh I continued my story, that day had been more of a fail than the first time.

"I didn't know where to hang the rope. I wanted to research it again but figured I could be creative all by myself. After searching the house, the only option I really had was the door. I Macgyvered the rope on the door, grabbed a chair and put the scratchy rope around my neck. I was pretty proud of myself though, being all DIY on this project." I laughed when I remembered the next part. I'm such a doofus.

"The moment I pushed the chair away, the rope slid off of my door and I landed with my butt on the floor. Not dead, although my ass was close to dying. Holy shit, that hurt! My butt was blue for two weeks. I seemed like one of those buttmonkeys, you know which ones I mean," I told Frank, who'd started writing again.

How he could stop himself from laughing was a mystery to me.

Going to work was a bitch because sitting down hurt. Even lying in my bed. I figured my next attempt needed to be less adventurous. You know, a lazy kind of way to die. Something that fits my personality a little better.

At least I knew my limitation at that point, so I guess I learned from it.

The session ended shortly after. We made another appointment three weeks from now and I had to make my promise again, ensuring him I wouldn't try anything until next time.