Even If It Kills Me: Alternate Ending

Even If It Kills Me: In A Matter Of Seconds

A/N: This is for entertainment purposes only and is in no way associated with the author or original work. This was written for an English class and was made up to be a continuation or alternative ending to the story Even If It Kills Me by Dorothy Joan Harris.
For the next month after Louanne's death, I stayed in bed and rarely left. I stopped eating completely and all the progress that I had started to make with Lee was gone. Every day, I could feel myself waste away even more. I couldn't stop thinking about Louanne. She was a terrible person. She was awful and mean and unpleasant to be around. I remembered when I first met her. I remembered being excited to have a friend who was like me, who knew what it was like. Then I walked inside her room and I found this sickly looking person who was nothing like me. I was disgusted by the thick hair on her arms. I tried giving her a chance, to not judge her by her cover but as soon as she opened her mouth, all that flew out the window. I knew as soon as she first spoke, I never wanted to spend enough time with her to be able to make a fair judgment.
But as disgusting as Louanne was, I never wanted her to die. I didn't think I could ever wish death upon another person, not even someone who killed puppies. I couldn't help but wonder what Louanne was like before she was anorexic. Was she a horrific person, through and through? Or was she actually nice once upon a time? I wanted to believe the best of her, that she wasn't always an awful person, but she had pitched herself to me in such a horrible light that it was impossible to imagine any differently.
As I stared up at the dark ceiling, tears began rushing down my cheeks. "I'm sorry," I whispered into the dark. I had no idea what I was sorry for though. Maybe I was sorry for not telling anyone what Louanne was doing after the world had fallen asleep. Maybe I was sorry for not being the perfect daughter that I was expected to be. Or maybe I was simply sorry for myself. Which one was true, I had no idea.
I got up and walked to the foot of the bed. I kneeled and reached for something that I had been hiding ever since that awful night. It was a small rectangular box and inside, there was a neatly folded piece of paper and a knife that I had taken from the food cart. I crossed my legs and took out the paper. Quietly, I unfolded it in the light of the hallway and read what I had written three weeks ago.

"Lee, there are so many things that I want to thank you for. For helping me, for believing in me, and for trying your hardest. There was a time when I hated you for wanting to make me fat. I know now that that was never your intention. You wanted to help... And for a while, you did. But then Louanne died. I remember that night. I remember the nurses rushing to her room. I remember not knowing what was going on. I remember when I finally found out that she had died. I remember feeling lost without her nagging presence. Even in death, she's driving me crazy. God, I remember everything so vividly. I don't want to remember. I want to forget. I want to forget how in a matter of seconds, Louanne went from being a person to a memory.
Honestly, my mind is a very dark place and if you could read it, you'd be in tears. And I'm tired, Lee. I'm tired of this hospital stay, feeling guilty, hating my own body and I'm tired of living. My life feels like a nightmare that I can't wake up from. Maybe one day everything could be okay but this is today and it sucks. I still don't know what my "real problems" are and I guess it's too late to find out but maybe one day you'll have some kind of epiphany that reveals why I'm so screwed up and when you do, hit me up in Heaven or wherever I'm doomed to. I hope you can forgive me for this one day, just like I forgave you, Lee."

I folded the paper again and got up from the floor. I placed it on my pillow and then made the bed. As I sat down on the mattress, I rotated the knife in my hand. If I didn't do it now, I'd chicken out and I couldn't let myself do that. I wanted my story to end.
Slowly, I pulled off my shirt and threw it on the bed beside me. I placed the knife above my navel and took a deep breath. I had never hurt myself before, never even thought of it. I guessed that was all about to change. I began pressing down harder on my skin with the knife, wincing when it broke through. Was I really going to do this? I asked myself. I answered by digging deeper with the blade. Slowly, I cut the words 'I'm sorry' into my stomach. The pain tingled as blood seeped through the cuts. Tears flowed endlessly from my eyes.
I looked down at myself once I had finished. The words were picturesque. They were beautiful in a way that I couldn't explain and deep enough so that if I did live through tonight, they'd leave a scar. It was kind of a sick, ironic joke, I thought as I admired them. If I lived, they'd be a constant reminder of tonight. Wasn't I trying to kill myself to forget?
I gripped the knife harder than before and placed the tip to my forearm. A violent sob escaped my lips as I ripped the blade through my flesh. I moved quickly to the next arm so that I wouldn't have time to think about the fact that I was dying, that after this, there was nothing.
My family wasn't religious, so naturally, neither was I, but in my final moments, the thought of Heaven was comforting. Was there life after death? Would I go to a place better than earth? Would I meet God? And if I did, would he forgive me? I stood up suddenly. I wanted to kneel, to pray to him to forgive me but I was too weak from the amount of blood loss. I crumpled under my own weight, falling to the floor.
Suddenly, the door was thrown open and one of the night nurses stood in the doorway. She screamed for help. I heard the sound of voices but couldn't make out what they were saying because I was dying.
"Oh my god, I'm dying." I whispered, too weak to speak any louder.
The nurse rushed to my side, saying something that I couldn't understand. My vision was going black and the nurses' face began to fade away. "No. No, please don't leave, don't go," I moaned. Sobs racked my body as more people rushed into the room with a gurney. They lifted me onto it and pushed me out of the room. The nurse who found me was still at my side, still whispering in my ear. I grasped for her hand. "Question," I managed to say.
The nurses eyes got wide and finally her voice broke through. "What is it, Melanie?"
I recognized the voice but I couldn't place it and my sight was still diminishing rapidly. "Can I," - I sobbed before I could finish.
"Shh, it's okay, Melanie. Everything's going to be alright." I sniffled before I spoke again.
"Will I still get into Heaven even though I killed myself?"
She began to shake her head and said "I don't know."
I noticed then that she was crying. "Don't cry."
"Oh Melanie, I love you and I always will, no matter what. I don't care if you're fat, skinny, alive or..." She stopped. "Don't die, Melanie, please don't die." That's when I realized that she wasn't a nurse.

"Forgive me, Lee. Oh my god, forgive me. I only wanted to be noticed."
A sad smile laced her lips. "That's it, Melanie. That's your real problem. I just wish it didn't have to come to this for you to figure it out."
"I'm tired, Lee." And I didn't mean of living, I was completely exhausted. Who knew that dying could be so tiring?
"Good bye, Melanie." And in a matter of seconds, I went from being a person, to a memory in the minds' of those who knew me.

The End