[ON HOLD] One Last Chance - Phan

Prologue 1/2

Trigger warning - Suicide and self-harm

Dan's POV

9th June 1985

"Dan, what on earth is the matter?" Mum asks, sounding concerned. I don't want to look up at her. It will just remind me of one of the many reasons why I'm a social reject. I clench my hands into fists and my nails dig into my palms and squeeze my eyes shut.

"Dan, look at me."

I have to.

I relax my hands, open my eyes, turn around and, like I predicted, her bright, 80's fashion replaces my current thoughts with memories. Horrible memories. Being picked on because I'm not like them. Not like anyone else. I quickly look down and see my own clothing. Black trainers, black jeans and a black, long-sleeved top.

Of course I get bullied at school.

"Dan, please talk to me, I'm so worried. You always seem so, I don't know, depressed."

Depressed.

The word rings in my head.

The word they all use at school.

Depressed Dan.

If I hadn't completed homework, someone would always mention it.

If I wasn't paying attention in lesson, someone would always mention it.

If I didn't have my P.E kit, which was every day, someone would always mention it.

The thing is, they aren't wrong.

Suddenly, I decide to give up on my vow to be mute and let out all the anger, hurt and sadness I've been holding inside me for the past 3 years.

"Depressed?! How have you only just figured it out?" I splutter. Of course my mum is shocked, I haven't spoken in 3 years. I'm surprised I can remember how to speak or there isn't at least some sort of terrible stutter interfering.

"Why do you think I haven't spoken in 3 years? Why do you think I disappear into my room after coming back from school and cry for hours on end?" I quickly pull both of my sleeves up to my elbows to reveal all of the scars - new and old - scaling my arms. "Why do you think I always wear long sleeved tops? It's to cover it all, mum. To cover the scars I've planted on my skin. To cover the fact that I haven't felt happiness in years." I roll my sleeves back down before taking a deep, shaky breath. I've gone this far, she deserves to know before I go. "To cover the fact that I don't want to be here anymore. To cover the suicidal thoughts I have every day and every night. To cover the fact that all the other kids think I should go as well. To cover the fact that I regret not leaving this world every time I reach for the knife and give my body a different kind of pain to think about." I stop, as the tears I've been fighting back are slowly slipping out, one at a time.

"Oh my gosh, Dan, I didn't know you felt this way." My mum gasps, reaching out to place her hand on my shoulder, but I flinch away.

"Of course you didn't. You never noticed. You know those signs of depression you saw in dad? You never thought to notice that I possess all of them. No, you didn't think to notice. Not after dad killed himself. You never noticed anything after that." The tears are running out quicker.

"Dan I-" my mum starts.

"No mum! You're too late!" I shout before running into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it before my mum can get in.

There's banging on the door.

"Dan, let me in, please!" She sounds desperate, but, like I've already told her, she's too late.

"Dan!"

I don't answer.

"Dan, open the door!"

I don't answer.

"Dan, please, you're only 18! It doesn't need to end now." She's crying.

I hear her calling someone on her phone.

One number.

2 numbers.

3 numbers.

She stops.

999.

I need to act fast.

Rapidly, I open the left cupboard and grab the first bottle to hand.

Bleach. Good enough.

I sit down, back against the door. By now, the tears are flooding out and I don't try to fight them back. I raise my left arm in front of me and tug at my sleeve slightly, revealing the three black lines that lay at the top of my arm, the top one fading at the center.

I'm on life one. 2 more chances left. Maybe the next one will be different.

I pull the sleeve back up, covering the lines and focus my attention on other things.

The paper.

I take the paper out of my jean pocket and unfold it, quickly reading back over it.

It's perfect.

I fold the paper and clutch it in my right hand.

Now, the bottle.

I unscrew the cap and lift the bottle to my lips.

It's now or never.