How to Save a Life ✓

XXII: In Which She Does It

*TRIGGER WARNING*

There will be a suicide attempt in this chapter. I did the best I can to portray things accurately (emotionally and medically). If I wrote something incorrectly, please feel free to correct me. See you at the end. I recommend you listen to the song above as you read the chapter. It goes well with Kate's emotions. 

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Worthless.

Disgusting.

Ungrateful bitch.

The four words repeat in my head as I sit on my bedroom floor. I look to the spot where my mom fell asleep after she attacked me. She demanded that I clean my room after she woke up and I spent the whole morning putting the broken pieces back together.

Except it's still broken, and no amount of glue will fix it.

My fingers runs along the dry blood that permanently stains the carpet, one of the many reminders that my life is a mess. Purple bruises line my face and stomach and there's nothing I can do to cover it up.

Taking small deliberate steps to the bathroom, I press my hand to the mirror. My reflection stares back at me and I can't help but feel disgusted at my appearance. Putting both of my hands to my side, I notice the small grease stain my fingers left on the mirror. I turn on the faucet and take some of the water and splash it against the glass. Small droplets roll down and I wipe it against the stain, leaving a small layer of water in it's place. The pressure from my hand causes the mirror to open, showing me the contents of the cabinet.

Everything seems normal, nothing is out of place, except for the two pill bottles that I bought a couple of weeks ago, I take one of them out and read the label once again.

I wonder how many of these will it take to kill me.

All the pent up anger and sadness that I've experienced these past few months come out and I release a strangled cry. The sound fills the whole room and it echos off the walls. My mouth is open as I breathe heavily.. Tears fall down my cheek and drop onto my shirt, which dampens it.

I rip off a piece of toilet paper and aggressively wipe the tears off of my face. The paper hits my bruise which causes a sharp sting. I'm tired of crying and the pain. I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of everything.

I take the phone out of my pocket and go to my contacts. I need to call someone, anybody. The people that I know is limited so I settle on Aphrodite and hit the call button.

The phone rings three times and just when I think she won't answer the call, she picks up.

"Hey, Kate. What's up?" She sounds cheerful and based on the background noise, I can assume that she's watching T.V.

"I'm tired." I tell her for lack of conversation starter. I don't exactly know how she's going to respond to that but I go with it.

"Okay?" Is that why you called me? To tell me that?" Her voice gets higher at the end of the question and I start to regret telling her.

"Yeah, I guess so." I laugh bitterly and I guess she caught that something's wrong because she says uneasily,

"Why don't you take a nap? A good night's sleep will probably make you feel better."

"Maybe. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks for the advice. Goodbye, Didi."

"Are you okay?" She sounds hesitant and I can't help but feel a little guilty. I don't want her to feel like she's the reason for my demise because she isn't. She's a good person.

"I will be. Thanks for everything."

I hang up the phone then and toss it to the side.

I pick up the pill bottle, it's contents suddenly feeling heavier in my hand. Looking at it for a second, I give myself one more chance to go back.

I've given myself too many chances.

Opening the bottle, I dump several into my hand. Taking one last deep breath, I put them into my mouth and swallow them dry. The burning sensation as each pill goes down my throat increases until I swallow them all. I repeat the process until the bottle is empty.

Waiting for a second, nothing happens. I don't know what to expect but after a minute, I feel bile rising in my throat. I rush to the small garbage can on the other side of the room and vomit. My stomach clenches as I sit back down and cough. The dry cough makes my lungs feel like they are on fire so I force myself to stop.

I walk to the kitchen, my feet talking small, weak steps, and grab a tissue. Wiping the acidic liquid off of my mouth, I go to my room.

On my desk there's a piece of paper and a pencil where I was going to do my math homework a couple of days ago. The front of it has several math problems so I turn it over to see it blank.

Taking the pencil, I debate what my last words are going to be. I know no one is going to read it, but I need some closure.

Ignoring the taste of vomit in my mouth, I write some words down on the page, not bothering to erase any mistakes. The writing is messy and not like my usual print. When I put the pencil down, it's wet with sweat. I touch my left arm with my right palm and notice the liquid residue on my arm as well.

I pick up the note and put it on my bed, a place where someone could easily find it. I sit back down on the floor and stare absentmindedly at the wall, trying to forget the increasing pain in my stomach. I clutch it with both hands and groan out loud. Unshed tears are in my eyes, wishing that the pain would end. It all hurts so much.

Everything hurts. My heart is beating faster than normal and I feel like it's going to explode out of my chest. With each beat, I let out a shallow breath, thinking that it would help stop the pain. It doesn't stop and eventually thumping of my heart mixes with the piercing sensation in my stomach to form an excruciating combination. I sob as I crouch into a fetal position once again.

Why did I think that this is a good idea?

I immediately regret taking all of those pills and I will myself for everything to stop. My heart continues beating at an alarming rate and my eyes get more droopy. Trying to keep them open, I try stand up and get help but my arms are too weak to support my body. I fall back down to the floor. Helplessness takes over me and I cry and scream..

The phone rings a couple of feet away from me and although I can't reach for it, I manage to see the caller I.D.

It's Noah.

I extend my hands to get it but my fingers don't reach it. When the call ends, he rings again. I'm only able to witness my only source of help disappear as I bring my hand close to my chest and try to concentrate on my breathing. Dry tears stick to my face as I bring my legs closer to my body.

One breath. Two breaths. Three.

My breathing becomes slower as I close my eyes and relax. Everything continues to hurt but I know it will soon end. There's nothing I can do. I did this to myself.

As I start to see small patches of darkness in my eyes, I see that it will soon be all over.

And that brings a bittersweet smile to my face.

END OF PART TWO