Black. Pitch black and the soft drumming beat of a heart monitor has consumed my world and soul. So, mournfully, I am still alive, but barely.
Someone must have discovered my absence and came to search for me.
I can imagine that it wasn't my mother since she was working the bar at Devil's Tavern and strip club last night. As puts me to shame. I mean, many kids grow up with a role model, but what child says, "I wanna be just like my mommy and show all the men every inch of my body, while I'm faded as all get out."
Anyway, I believe my neighbors are gone on vacation to the Himalayas, but perhaps their son, my disgusting ex boyfriend James, stayed behind. He'd always hated family trips.
Well, I guess I'll have to find out later whom it was that destroyed my attempt at the afterlife.
Coming to my senses, I hear a soft pitter-patter I recognize as rain on a metal roof. We don't get an abundance of rain in Utah, but it's February and Spring will be approaching soon. God knows we're thankful for the rain after the drought last year left our gardens barren.
I always welcome the rain, though. Something about storms calms me and carries me into a state of peace. I cannot smell the rain in this place, sadly, which I adore.
The air around me is permeated with the smell of blood and antiseptic. Also, a familiar scent I cannot quite place, a sweet, tropical aroma. Grandma Carolyn! Wherever I am, the loving arms of my grandmother await to caress me. Besides death, I long for that more than anything right now.
My eyes strain to adjust to the blinding light as they come to awareness of the world. The first things I notice are black restraints binding me to a bed. In a panic, I immediately start lashing out, the most bloodcurdling screams haunting my every move. Wait, those screams belong to me. Still, I fight to free myself. Have I been kidnapped again? Oh God, no!
Not only am I utterly and completely stick, but there must be ten different transparent tubes leading into my arms and a cannula in my nostrils. I must be low on oxygen, because of all the blood I lost from my last cut, I presume. As I slow my raging a bit, tangled in my assortment of tubes, I realize that I am getting a blood transfusion.
Seconds later, grandma Carolyn comes rushing out of what appears to be a restroom. Through the only other door, doctors and nurses swarm the room like a pack of wild wolves stalking its prey.
Oh, duh, I'm in a hospital. Not only that, but there's a foot long needle jabbed into the flesh of my thigh. It sure seems that large, anyway.
Great, I just bought myself a, "This chick is crazy," sedation.
I glance over to the left side of my bed at grandma Carolyn, who awaits anxiously. Her red, bloodshot eyes and makeup stained cheeks say that she has been crying, a lot.
By the looks of it, she came in a hurry, too. Her long, flowing white hair has been thrown up in a rather messy bun, stray curls swaying as the air conditioner's sports of icy air kiss her plump cheeks. Grandmother has natural beauty and always looks like a movie star, only I would notice that she wasn't trying for beauty for an affair such as the hospital.
Grandma Carolyn's ancient, angelic heart is far more golden than her looks, however. Her flawless nature is way too fragile for these types of situations. That is the one thing I absolutely despise about self harm. If she discovers how badly I am hurting myself, it causes her pain and heartache as well.
I reach out to grasp her frail, white hand in a heartfelt attempt. She is my guardian angel.
"When your at the bottom of the deepest, darkest valley," she says, "you have nowhere to go but up, baby doll."
"I love you grandma."
"I love you too, 'Lexa."
One of the doctors, whom's badge reads, "MD/DO Jamie Haux," escorts her to the lobby so that they can do further evaluation and pry at me I assume.
Every inch of my body begins to go limp, my senses duller than ever. Only then do I realize that during my struggle to escape the restraints, I ripped one of the right stitches out of my now throbbing wrist. Blood sprays from the artery up to five feet across the room.
I have to admit, it's a rather gruesome sight. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly to avoid seeing this, but just before I do, I catch a glimpse of a male nurse get a mouthful of my blood. He looks like he just downed two bags of sour patch kids candy. At this, I giggle, and it gives me the desire to reopen my eyes.
Everything within my sight begins to go fuzzy and my body is overcome by a warm, soothing sensation.
There is a very beautiful light show in my room. The voices are telling me that it's all in my favor. That makes me smile. From the blank expressions on everyone's faces, I realize that I am the only one who seen it, anyway.
I feel myself and every will I have fade away from the entire universe. Now, I know nothing but complete darkness.
And actually, peace.
YOU ARE READING
Cutting toward Calvary
Fanfiction"Most girls my age are labeled by their cliques, their brands of clothing, or by the masks of their fake personalities they present to people. Me, well, my scars tell my story. My name is Alexa Jade Hill. I'm sixteen. I self harm. I want to die." L...
