enemies (with benefits) » l.r.h || completed

end

DEPRESSION/SUICIDAL TRIGGER WARNING: Read at your own risk and comfort level.

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Vanessa

Everything came crashing down on me. From the whispers, to the laughter, to the insults from my own family, to Jessie kissing me. It all was too much. Everything was too much.

I sat in my room, staring at myself in the mirror. Black streaks on my cheeks, eyes redder than my shirt, hair a mess from tugging at it while I screamed. The outside was nothing compared to how I felt on the inside.

A shattered wrecked. Something that could never be back the way it was.

Suicide threats came in by the numbers. Whether someone told me in the halls, wrote it in Expo Marker on my locker, on scraps of paper that they'd leave on my desk, on my Facebook wall and in my Twitter mentions, I was receiving them. And with every note, every word, it started to become more and more of a good idea.

I grabbed my camera, checking the film and its battery life. Just enough of each for what I needed. I searched for my tripod, looking everywhere in my room when I remembered leaving it in the basement. I'll have to get it before I leave, because I now was searching for a pen that wasn't dried out.

I scribbled words into my notebook, tears falling as I wrote. It was hard to write and wipe my eyes at the same time. I read over what I wrote, feeling as if it wasn't good enough. But neither was I, so at least I kept it consistent.

I looked through my phone, at the last few people I had talked to: Brian, Jessie, Michael, and the few messages I sent to Luke that he never replied to. I called Brian first, but he didn't answer. I left him a voicemail. I called Michael, and I knew he wouldn't answer anyway because he's working. I left him a voicemail, too.

I stared at Jessie's number, sniffling. What she did was forgivable, but it still hurt. I called her, hoping that she would be the one to answer. I waited, as it continued ringing my heart dropped, as well as more tears on the paper. When I heard her voicemail, I was crying all over again. I could barely speak the message I wanted to give her, but I got through it anyway.

I sat there, trying to collect myself, wiping my eyes and nose as I looked out the window. Luke use to climb in through the window whenever I needed him with me when it was 2 in the morning. He'd practically fall on his face because of his long legs and he'd have to hide under the bed when Mom came in to see what happened. We'd giggle when she left, oblivious to our stupid teenager antics and he'd stay the night with me.

Climbing through windows was our thing. We'd do it to each other all the time. And now, there's no one climbing through my window anymore, right when I needed it most.

I looked down at my phone, Luke's number on the screen. My finger hovered over the little phone icon, debating on whether or not I should. My finger twitched and pressed the button. I freaked out and stared at it before hanging up. This happened two more times before I just sent him a text. Like he'll read it.

I took the passcode off my phone and locked it, leaving it on silent and setting it on top of my notebook. I dug through my closet, finding Mitchell's old sweatshirt I took from him forever ago, going to his room and setting it on his bed. He looked at me with a questioning look, but I left when he opened his mouth to say something.

I went back to my room, grabbing the camera and my car keys. I was about to go out the door when I remembered the tripod. I ran down to the basement and hauled it awkwardly up the stairs when Mitchell was standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing?"

"Gonna make a short film," I mumbled, trying to carry it out to my car.

"You haven't touched your camera in two years," he followed me out, not helping me whatsoever. I shrugged, struggling to put it in the backseat of my car. "can I go with you?" I shook my head.