She Gave up

Six.

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"I was swimming. I was fighting. Then I thought, just for a second, I thought ‘What’s the point?’ And then I let go. I stopped fighting. " - Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy.

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"How are you feeling Stella?"

I dragged my gaze away from the beige wall I was staring at, slowly turning to look at her.

I watched her every move, as the thirty years old woman fiddled with the pen in her hand, probably a distraction to herself.

Her expression was unexpectedly similar to mine as the look which our eyes reflected was the same - The only difference, was that her eyes reflected utter emptiness while mine reflected a little hint of exhaustion as well.

I nodded slowly, as I moved the corner of my mouth upward, pushing a forced smile on my face "I'm good."

She shook her head, sighing and putting down her pen "Stella, how do you expect me to help you, if you won't open up to me?"

I shook my head and looked away, staring at the room again, examining it's every corner and furniture "I didn't ask for help, did I?"

"Your parents think a therapist like myself might be a good help."

"You mean my mother." I corrected, snapping my eyes back to hers "And I don't need help or a therapist." I frowned as I kept my gaze at her.

"You've already had two outbursts. And you've attempted suicide-"

"I didn't attempt suicide, I merrily thought about it."

"You were standing on the edge of a cliff."

"Just forget it." I shook my head as I mumbled these words. She wouldn't get it. Nobody would. But I needed to try it out - the feeling I mean.

"Tell me." She pestered on the subject.

"Tell you what? That my best friend killed herself, or that I blame myself everyday?" I raised an eyebrow, feeling myself growing colder and harsher by the second.

For a second, she looked taken aback, probably not expecting my answer to be this bold. But she quickly composed herself "Why do you blame yourself?"

I kept quiet.

That was something I was most definitely not sharing and after a few seconds, she got the hint and sighed. She scribbled something in my file and I frowned - What could she have possibly written?

"You know it wasn't your fault right? Most people who decide to end their life, are far beyond repair. It's a fact, Stella. Most people who have already decided to kill themselves, are often beyond repair and nobody, not even their loved ones, can stop them."

I stared at her and blinked a couple of times, my eyes cold, dry and most of all hateful.

But I wasn't sure if the hate was direct toward my therapist, or myself.

"How do you think she got to the point of deciding to do it?" My words were laced with venom and sarcasm as I almost spat them out.

It was her turn to frown "She had cancer, didn't she? She was tired and hurt and-"