Save Me (DTRTI Sequel)

Chapter Seventeen

"Where is it?" I asked myself as I shuffled through cabinets and drawers, tossing things aside recklessly. My cheeks were stained with tears, something that had become a regular thing for me these days. "Where the fuck is it?!" I glanced at myself in the mirror as I slammed yet another drawer shut.

My eyes were heavy, barely open as I stared at the man in front of me. He is broken, void...empty. His eyes were red and decorated with dark, heavy bags from lack of sleep. His cheeks were stained from many cried tears and those that he continued to cry. He is barely a man...I felt sorry for him.

His eyes began to fill with tears again as he stared at his reflection...and then his reflection began to laugh.

"Look at you." He laughed, his laugh brought a loud ringing to my ears. "You look pathetic."

I agreed silently. I do look pathetic...I am pathetic.

"You're damn right!" He chuckled and shook his head as he stared back at me. "Where is it?" He asked.

"I don't know." I responded. "I can't find it!"

"Did you check everywhere?" His eyebrow raised and I inhaled a deep breath before I shook my head.

"No."

"Well then what the hell are you waiting for?"

I turned on my heels and left the bathroom, going to the place where I knew I should have checked. I entered the bedroom closet and reached for the shoebox on the top shelf.

That was where I hid things. It's a place Ava can't get to...a place where it'll always be safe.

I ripped the lid off the box and dumped its contents to the floor. Pushing folded sheets of paper, my old journal, and photos to the side, my finger was nicked by a sharp edge. I'd found it.

I examined the bloody cut and gave a small smile as I lifted the razor blade in my hand. This would do it. This would make him be quiet forever.

"Do it!" He yells.

I sighed. "How many?"

"Until it stops hurting."

I took a deep breath and flip over my scarred left wrist. I slid back toward the nearest wall and glanced toward the locked door. I was going to hang myself...I remember as my eyes fall on the belt I had tied above the room on the ceiling fan. I was going to do what Chandler did, but I couldn't.

I couldn't bring myself to repeat the book that way. This was my own story...and it was going to end as my own.

I stared at the healing scars on my wrists and with a few winces, began to create fresh marks. I cut once, and then twice, and then a third time, tears still streaming down my cheeks as I did. None of it was helping.

The pain...the heartbreak, it wasn't going away. My eyes found the packet Ava had handed me and I began to carve into my skin, shaking my head as I did. I hadn't opened it, I couldn't bear to even read the words I knew were etched onto the paper in black ink, waiting for my signature.

"I love you." I read the carving in my skin back to myself. "I love...you." Of course I was talking about Ava.

I watched blood pour from the cuts and lines, collecting on the carpet as I flipped over my right wrist. My right wrist was bare, clean and clear from cuts. It was a fresh canvas.

I smiled slightly and carved a line straight down the center, then another, and another. Until blood pooled quicker onto the carpet's surface.

My breathing became short and shallow, and I felt as though I was gasping for air. But that wasn't enough. I looked down at the fabric of my white tee shirt, stained just as the carpet was with my blood. The bloody blade in my hand traveled to the material and I cut it clean through with ease.

I cut into my skin, wincing and gasping as I carved words into it. Words to be read by whoever found me.

"I'M SORRY." I read the two words back to myself as well.

The statement was carved deep into my skin, causing more blood to drip as I leaned my head back against the wall. I had lost the strength to cut again, just resting my head against the cream colored surface with tears pouring quicker than my own blood.

"It hasn't stopped hurting." He told me. "Keep going."

I lifted a tired and weak hand and carved an underline under my statement.

I'M SORRY

The statement lay carved into my skin forever...and I was okay with that. I leaned against the wall and watched the blood fall. I watched it trickle and pour until the carpet turned a deep scarlet...and then an even deeper scarlet.

I was struggling to keep my eyes open. The blade that pierced my skin had fallen from my hand, resting in the pool of blood that had formed.

My throat had long since run dry and I could hardly gain the strength to speak. But my heart still aches. Tears still fall. I beg silently. I beg for the pain to stop. I beg for it to go away...to be free from it all. But I can't and it won't.

There was only one person who could save me...and she gave up on me.

I feel myself fall over into the blood, splashing it onto myself and the wall behind me. I feel far from myself...far from my surroundings as I blink once more before giving up and shutting my eyes.

"It's happening." He tells me. "I'm winning."

I hear him speak to me but I don't care. I don't care if he wins. I just want to die.

"I'm winning." He repeats.

And if I had the strength to shrug, I would. Because again, I don't care.

The world falls silent and for a moment, I bask in the silence...I love the silence.

It is where I cannot feel...cannot think...cannot hurt any longer. And in a moment, it will be permanent. In a moment, I will never have to hurt again...never.

"I'm win-" I felt myself beginning to slip and his voice fades away, lost in the darkness all around me. Lost in the peace around me.

Lost....forever.

This is what I deserve. This is what I get for losing her.

And that is how we got where we are now.

I had her in my arms...the woman of my dreams...the woman who loved me when I didn't even love myself...the one who saved me.

I had her.

I had her.

I...had...her...

But now I don't...

I let her slip away.

Or maybe...I'm the one that slipped away.

Maybe I'm the one that stopped loving her. Maybe it's because I stopped holding her close...stopped cherishing her like I should've...

But either way, she's gone.

Her and my children....Gone.

Forever.

And maybe...just maybe had I not opened the door that night...then maybe she'd still be here. Maybe she'd still be in my arms.

And then maybe....maybe she could save me.

Maybe if I had opened up about it...about Tasha...about the man...then maybe she could've been my Liliana again.

And maybe...just maybe...I wouldn't be where I am now.

Maybe I wouldn't be sitting in this bedroom...on this scarlet carpet...with blood seeping from my wrists. Maybe just maybe, I would desire to call 9-1-1.

But maybe it's too late for me to be saved.

Maybe...maybe it's better this way.

Maybe...maybe...may- *thud*