Better off

60 reasons why

The characters and locations in this story are all fictional. It's not set in a country that exists. Read this with an open mind and imagine the characters as a diverse group.

•••

Sixty pills, the only solution I had to stop the emotional pain that turned physical, the sharp pain that formed in my stomach with every sob... one... the pounding in my head... two... running out of breath... three... the heartache... four... the-

I looked up at the picture of my grandmother that was hung on my wall, if she was still here I would've stopped, it would've been a shame if she had to be the one to find me, but she wasn't here. Like my sanity, she was gone...

Fuck it.
Five... six... seven... eight.... until sixty, each pill had a reason. I mean why have "13 reasons why" when you could have 60?

•••

"What triggered it?" She asked with a pen in her hand.

A boy.

"I don't know" I lied. Therapists had a way of undressing your emotions, they were trained for this. They would tell you a personal story you could relate to first so you are able to trust them with your story... I would know this, she was my fourth one after all.

"I lost my father two years ago" she said, I expected this.

"I'm sorry for your loss" I knew saying it was not going to make her feel better about her loss or bring her father back but that was what was expected from me and I learned that telling them what they wanted to hear would make this experience more bearable for me.

The sound of the engine and the radio harmonized as my father focused on the road. Usually we'd sit in comfortable silence but this time awkwardness filled the car and I could see him occasionally glancing my way. It was odd after all because my parents were always too "busy" to pick me up from anywhere and I'd either drive myself or be my driver's responsibility.

I should've sat in the backseat.

"You look like you want to say something" I said blankly.

"How was it?" He finally spoke.

Shoot me it would hurt less.

"It was okay." I always kept my answers short so I wouldn't have to speak to him for long.

"You should tell me when something is bothering you instead of- ..." he cut himself, this topic had become taboo to them, poison to the tongue.

"Instead of what?" I finally turned to face him "trying to kill myself?" He didn't meet my eyes, instead he carried on focusing on the road, defeat in his eyes.

The car finally pulled up at my front gate, with a press of the button it opened slowly like an invisible old man was pushing it, revealing the white mansion that mostly consisted of large glass windows.

I hopped out of the car as soon as it stopped in the garage, my mission being to escape the awkwardness that had now consumed the car.

"Hello honey" my mother greeted me with a warm smile as I entered the living room, it was rare for my parents to ever be home all the time like this because they were too busy making millions to care that I exist and the fact that I didn't have siblings didn't help either.

"Hi" I said blankly, observing her forced smile, the one her and my father used to hide the worry.
"How was the-"
"I'm going to take a nap" I interrupted her, avoiding questions about my session. They probably knew I was lying because I hadn't slept since the incident, let alone take a nap.

I heard synchronized sighs as I walked towards the stairs.

My room was big and spacious, my closet was probably the size of someone's living room somewhere, I had a built in lounge with my own flat screen TV mounted to the wall, and a treadmill near the large window that would let in natural light and I'd open it on good days but the electric blinds have been closed for days now, leaving my room in darkness.

I'm sure you are wondering what got me feeling so dark. No it's not entirely because of a boy... my life was a mess in general.

Four years ago my parents had noticed a change in my mood, it was like now but not as bad, I'd lock myself in my room, shut everyone out and cry a lot but I never turned to self harm. I was sent to a psychiatrist and after a few tests they realized that I had a chemical imbalance in my brain, this is caused by having too much or too little of certain chemicals in my brain and as a result I have mental illnesses such as depression and anxiety.

I was given antidepressants and assigned to a psychologist and a support group and that's where I met my best friend Ruby. Between us she was the out spoken one, I can't really say I'm quiet but Ruby speaks way more than I do, more than anyone for that matter. She was honestly the only person I could open up to because I knew she understood.

I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling like it had answers for me somehow. I could sit like that for hours at a time and I did. It was worse cause I had a lot of time on my hands since I just finished with high school and it was the 90 day break before I'd have to go to University.

My peers were enjoying their "freedom" after high school, including Ruby who's family decided to take her to Thailand as a family vacation in honor of her high school graduation. Unlike mine, her parents actually cared about her existence.

Hours passed as I sat in the same position, staring at the same ceiling. My dark thoughts were interrupted by my ringtone, alerting me that someone was calling me.

It was my friend Clinton but had not spoken since graduation so a call from him was unexpected.

"Crystal..." he said my name hesitantly, like he thought long and hard about calling me but didn't think of what he'd say if I answered.

"Hi" I said blankly.

"Why didn't you tell me that asshole broke up with you?" His voice has a hint of anger.

"Did I need to tell you?" I asked, almost bitterly. "Brian is your friend too, he should've told you himself, he's the one who did the breaking up anyway." I added.

"No you didn't but you didn't need to try and kill yourself over that boy" he said, my business came out of his mouth like I had written it on my forehead for everyone to see.

"Clinton... who told you that?" I asked, my voice now shaking with anxiety and anger. Part of protecting my peace was making sure that no one knew my business because it was always blown out of proportion, especially because of my parents' high status.

"The article" he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What article Clinton?" I asked calmly although I could feel a build up of an overwhelming emotion. Tears began whirling as I  realize what he was implying.