Suicide Helpline

1 2 | d a y s | l e f t - v o i c e m a i l

"Hey Super-girl. It's your local lost boy here.

I was originally going to do this over e-mail but...it didn't feel right. It's...it's the kind of thing that I feel would be better spoken than written. It's...it's a horrible thing. You're going to hate me for it. Hell, I hate myself for it. It's kind of impossible not to. 

I was kind of hoping never to tell you but...it's not right to keep it from you when it's become such a big part of my life. And...and when you've become such a big part of my life. It's impacted me more than anything else ever has. It's the reason that I'm the person that I am.  It's why I make the decisions I make. It's why I do the things I do. It's...it's the roots for everything. 

Just a slight warning before I go into story-telling mode: this isn't a pretty story and I sincerely hope that you don't hate me for it afterwards. I hoped never to tell you this, that perhaps I could finally move on from it with you but...if this is what it takes for you to come back to me then...fine. It's a done deal, I'm breaking my last bit of closure with you.

It was around a year ago, I think...who am I kidding? I remember the exact date. The exact time. The exact hour. The exact minute. The exact second. I-it honestly was an accident. I swear it was an accident. I swear on my life.

I...I had been driving home from work. I had just had a massive fight with Kiara; I had found her cheating on me for the first time and had confronted her. I wasn't thinking straight. I-I-I still remember the mess I was. I was like a madman. I shouldn't have driven home in that state. I knew that I shouldn't have. I wasn't in the right state of mind. I was just so angry. All I could see was red, drowning in my own self-pity. I wasn't breathing right. My foot was pressed so hard on the pedal just for exhilaration, as if the thrill of going fast could possibly take my pain away. 

God knows it didn't.

Both my vision and head were blurred with tears of sorrow, both metaphorical and physical. I wasn't aware of what was happening. I swear I wasn't. All I could see was red but I didn't see it when it mattered the most. It's...it's like the red light registered in the corner of my mind but it didn't react. I...I drove straight through it. I didn't even look. I didn't even care for the light. I didn't even care. I didn't even notice. 

I didn't notice that family walking across the pedestrian crossing.

They didn't have enough time to react.

I...I was driving too fast.

I just ploughed right into them.

A family of four. 

Two kids who never had the chance to grow up...because of me and my careless emotions.

A mother and a father who never got the chance to see their kids grow up.

One paralyzed wife. 

One traumatized husband.

An entire family destroyed because I was so selfish as to delve too deep into my emotions.

The press covered it up...of course they did. They couldn't have their star boy looking like a murderer. They completely erased it, like it didn't even happen. But it did happen and I can never forget it. I'm a murderer Super-girl. I ruined an entire family. No matter how hard I try the memory always comes back. 

G...god. It's stained on all of my senses.

Their bodies crushed. The blood-curdling screams. The horrible stench of blood afterwards. The rough texture of the steering wheel. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth because I had been biting my lip too hard.

I...I got out of the car. Of course I did. How couldn't I? All of them were unconscious apart from the father. He was so overcome with worry that he didn't even notice me. I...I stood there, staring as the wounded man struggled to crawl over to his broken family. He was crying. I think he had realised that his two daughters were wounded beyond repair. 

Then his eyes met mine.

I'm pretty sure I was crying too.

I had ruined everything. I had murdered two souls that would have potentially lit up the world. And he knew it too, yet there was no hate in his eyes. He...he lied to the court. He said that he had not seen the driver of the car. Or its number plate. 

I was so useless.

I couldn't even take responsibility for what I had done. 

They wouldn't let me, they dragged me away before I was caught. I...I fought them. Of course I did. I screamed all the way. I thrashed. I scratched. Yet no justice was done. I was just left to cry in another empty hotel room.

Like nothing even happened.

But it did happen.

And I can never forgive myself.

Because if I'm such a murderer then what's the harm in murdering myself?"