Fanfictionsssssssssss

Promise

TW: Suicide, self harm

It was only a thought at first; a concept I thought of in the shower. I didn't think it'd escalate. It was just an idea of how to get rid of that problem. Thinking about it now, it wasn't really a problem that needed to be addressed like I addressed it, but I was in a blind fury.
Not many days before, a lover had left me. It was short, blunt, but very clear. It led me into a strange depression, an angry depression. I needed something that no longer existed. Instead of moving on, I thought about it day and night. It was always on my mind: how to fix it, how to get revenge, or even how to....never mind. You get the
idea.
I eventually decided, in the shower, to take my own life. You can't hurt something that isn't alive, right?
It was hard at first, but I drove myself into a deep depression. I would cut myself, burn myself, do anything I could to mark my body. Crimson became a common color to me. It almost brought me joy. I had convinced myself that with every cut I was one step closer to release.
I didn't want to do it right away. I needed to bide time, find the perfect moment to carry out my plan. It was November 16, late at night, exactly two months after we split up. Standing on the bridge was therapeutic in a horrible way, seeing the water of the river flowing, knowing that within minutes I would join the rushing stream as a spirit of what I once was.
A voice called out to me. It felt like I was home. I'd never heard the voice in my life, but I felt it bring tears to my eyes. I turned around and I saw her.
Her face was shadowed in the moonlight, but her voice was concerned. She pulled me off of where I stood and onto the hard, cold ground.
It's not that I hit my head, no, but something inside me ached. Tears flooded from my eyes like the river below us, but I couldn't feel anything. It got darker, blurrier, I couldn't conceive what was happening to me but I didn't want to. I didn't want to do anything.
I woke up in the morning. The sun was shining through the window, barely enough to cast a soft light on the wall. I laid in a bed, a small one, raised high enough that small rays of light hit my tired eyes and filled my empty soul.
I walked out of the room, curiously taking steps toward the smell of food. A young lady, seemingly my age, stood at a stove, cooking. She must've heard my footsteps on the floorboard, as she turned toward me with a worried look on her face.
She fed me breakfast and gave me her number. I walked home in the morning cold, counting every step I took. I saw the bridge. I felt scared of it. I couldn't believe I had attempted to jump off of it. Needless to say, it didn't specifically appeal to me now.
I got all the way home, to my anger-coated walls and tear-stained pillows and blood-soaked memories. I didn't feel bothered by it. Instead I texted that lady.
I knew her name, she told me it. I liked her. We talked every single day, we'd hang out on weekends, and she'd help me with anything that was wrong.
She was my best friend. I loved her.
"Promise me you'll always talk to me when you're upset."
"I promise."
I knew she loved me too.
"Promise me you'll care for yourself, eat regularly and drink water."
"I promise."
I didn't know how I could be happy without her.
"Promise me you'll never try to hurt yourself or kill yourself again."
"I promise."
I shouldn't make promises I can't keep.
It happened suddenly, as if being struck by lightening. I'd known her for two years. It sounds like a long time, but it wasn't long enough.
A drunk driver, they said. Wasn't focusing, swerved to the side. On the bridge. Driver was okay. She fell into the river. Her body, cold, wet, dead.
Who did I have now?
No body.
I got her flowers. Put them on her grave, told her how I was feeling when I was upset. I kept that promise.
I had lunch. Sat next to her tombstone, ate a sandwich and drank water. I kept that promise too.
But I went mad.
I convinced myself it was my fault, that I could've prevented this. But I didn't prevent it. I was too weak.
Crimson was common again. It stained everything I had. All I saw was red. There was nothing left. I was so angry, so irrationally angry, that blood was all I could spill in her name. I wanted to destroy everything I had. I couldn't bear the sight of anything.
I didn't leave my room for two weeks.
I didn't visit her grave for two weeks.
I didn't eat food or drink water for two weeks.
Instead I wrote.
Dear ——
It's been a month since you left. It's ok, I forgave you already. I don't know how to forgive myself. That bridge haunts me. I haven't left my room in two weeks. I know I could've prevented this. I don't know how, but I know I could've. Somethings wrong with me. I'm messed up in the head.
I'm sorry I couldn't keep your promises.
I should've known not to make promises I can't keep.
You mean more than the world to me.
You're the only one who's every actually loved me.
So thank you.
I'll see you soon.
Signed, me
I left the letter on her grave.
It was April 30, late at night, exactly four months after she died. Standing on the bridge was therapeutic in a horrible way, seeing the water of the river flowing, knowing that within minutes I would join the rushing stream to be reunited with her.
A voice called out to me. It felt like I was home. I felt it bring tears to my eyes.
I never should've made promises I couldn't keep.
And I jumped.

Lmaooooooo heyyyyyy I was feeling suuuuper sad today so here's a lil story so you guys can share my pain :) ❤