Can I Have Your Attention Please

Chapter 50: Never Get Better

QOC: On a scale from 1-10, how much did you enjoy CIHYAP? I'd like to know your opinions!

o • O • o
Kason's POV
O • o • O

She said that she thought happy endings were cliche. She said they were corny, overrated, and unrealistic. And I completely agree. But the thing is, I wish that happy endings were realistic. Because dammit, no one's happy anymore. And I don't want this to be the end.

"This is good for you. You're going to get better here...is it nice? Like your room?" Kassidy asks through the glass.

I notice my reflection in the glass. It's not a mirror, but I can still see myself. It's sort of like the image you see of yourself in a window pane. My eyes are red raw from the lack of sleep and my recent diagnosis of severe insomnia. I look lost, like I'm always pissed at the world. I'm always gazing, unblinking. I feel nothing.

I look at my sister blankly. "When do I get out?"

She looks down at her lap as Cameron gives her shoulder a small squeeze. She lets out a long, slow breath before reconnecting eye contact with me.

"The doctor says you've got about eight months left," she whispers.

I nod and look at a spot on the wall. It's a lucky spot. It never moves. It never changes. And when someone decides to wipe it off one day, it just stops existing. It doesn't have to worry about love. It doesn't worry about missing someone.

Since my first suicide attempt, I'd tried two other times. Once was in the gas station. I grabbed some random pills like Tylenol and Advil and ran into the bathroom. I took them, passed out, but apparently Cameron found me, because I woke up in the hospital.

The other attempt was when I finally finished Sam's story. I finished the rough draft, just staring at the final words. I decided to put "The End." Not because I ran out of ideas, but because that's what Sam's life was. It was just "the end." And because she didn't believe in happy endings. But I don't think she believed in sad endings either. It was just "an ending" with her. I don't know how else to explain it.

Anyway, I had the pencil in my hand and was just staring at those words. Those stupid words. I wish I could've written, "The Beginning" instead. Because that's what it felt like when she was alive. It felt as if my life were only beginning with her.

And I was angry. But it was only beginning, and suddenly she was just ripped away from me. I couldn't deal with it.

I snapped the pencil and dug through my sock drawer, finding the switchblade I have hidden. I flicked it out and drove it into the right side of my abdomen without a second thought, and then cut my wrists. My sister found me and somehow saved me.

I haven't forgiven Cameron or Kassidy for not letting me die. And I won't ever again. I haven't forgiven my mother for putting me into this rehabilitation center either. These psychiatrists are morons. They suggest the dumbest things for solutions. And when you lash out, your time here increases by a day.

When I first arrived, I only had to be here for six months. But apparently, Dr. Manning says I have eight months now.

Fuck him.

"Kason, I just want you to get better. We want you to get better. Mom wants you better," Kassidy says quietly.

"Mom didn't even try to help me," I mutter distastefully. "She hates me for throwing Dad in prison. And in my opinion, that was letting him off fucking easy."