Maybe the cuts on her wrists were a cry for help. Maybe they were a cry for attention. Thats what everyone would say, anyway.
She rolled her dark green eyes. She'd understand why people would think the cuts were a cry for attention... If anyone had known. But they hadnt. No one knew. Not a soul. She was thankful that fall was coming, cutting her legs wasn't very satisfying. She already had enough pain there.
Her dark brown hair fell in front of her eyes as she sat up in bed. She held onto the edge of her dresser as she stumbled toward her closet to grab her knee braces. Just that short, unstable walk was painful, for more reasons than just one. It was when she was at her most vulnerable, one of her weakest moments. She barely opened her eyes as she moved, the monotonous routine had become second nature, just as other things in her life had. She knew how the day would go, every detail of it, before it had even really started.
She sighed, and looked down at her feet with sad eyes. No, she wouldn't cry this early. She'd... She'd grown stronger than that. That was what she liked to tell herself. She pulled the chunky, black knee braces back into their usual spot on her legs, and reached for her cane by the door. Sixteen, and already had a cane. She felt pathetic, old. Worthless. Ugly. At least, that had been what the kids at school had said. She began to tear up. No, she thought, as she willed herself not to cry. Dont think about that.
She had just started homeschooling this year, though she should have a long time ago. The glances, the stares, they had killed her inside. But she had been silenced for a long while. She barely spoke now, only offering answers to questions, or stating an opinion when it was asked, in a dull, lifeless voice. It was too late for her.
All the doctors, all the surgeons, had given up on her. Every ligament in her body was loose, and she ached every second of every day. But her legs, they were the breaking point. Not only were her ligaments and muscles screwed up, but her bones structure was, too. There was nothing that could be done, and that had been made very obvious to her.
She had planned everything, though. Today would be different. Today... this would stop. She had the noose ready. She had the blades. She had the pills. She didnt know how, but today, it would end. Permanently. People had always said that suicide was a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But her problem was permanent. How could people expect her to keep moving forward when every step was exruciating?
She had written out a simple note, in her simple script.
I'm so sorry. I love you all.
And that had been it. Everything was prepared.
She had made her way to the living room, where her mother was sitting at the coffee table, with all her homeschooling things set up. She smiled sweetly at her mother.
"Mama... I dont really want to do school today, I'm not feeling very good. I kind of just want to go lay back down. Would that be okay? I'm sorry you set my stuff up for nothing..."
Her mother had noticed the sadness in her eyes. She never asked to skip school.
"No, its fine. Just go lay back down."
The reply was simple, and that was good. She didn't want to think today, to feel today. She had decided.
She slowly made her way back into her room, where she dropped her cane on the floor. She hobbled over to her bed, and began. She made the noose first. She had found the rope out in their small shed one day, and had researched how to tie it. She did it so often now she barely thought about it. She had tied the noose flawlessly, as always.
A tear slid down her pale cheek. Something, a small part of her mind begged her to stop. But, as always, she didn't listen. Today, she would end it.
She had taken the stool from the small desk that sat in the corner of her room, and had sat it in her closet. Her large, tall closet. It had been too convinient, almost too easy. She had pushed her clothes over, and had tied her noose to the highest bar in her closet. She grabbed her blades.
She stood up on her stool, moaning as the pain shot through her legs, right under her noose. She didn't think anymore, she couldn't. There was no point.
She was ready.
She took the razors, sighed, and pushed the sharp side deep into her wrists. She gasped at the pain, and it made her tears flow more freely. She felt the veins being cut, stretched, and snapped.
She grabbed the noose with her crimson covered hands and placed it around her neck. She wanted to scream, the fear of death had overwhelmed her. But it still wasnt enough to stop her.
She slowly pushed to stool with her toes... And with sudden, unexpected courage, she pushed it out from under her.
The feeling wasn't like she thought it'd be. But it almost felt nice, to have her legs dangle. A sick, strange weakness was present in her body. It was growing stronger, though, and she was growing weaker. She heard her pulse, still strong in her ears, but fading... The pressure on her head was almost unbearable. Almost. But she wanted this, and it was too late now. Her eyes ached, as if they were extremely tired...
Her mind started to clear. No, not clear, her thoughts just got quieter, and she knew she was slipping. She used her last few moments to think of his face. Of the happiest moments. As close as she was to death, tears still rolled down her cheeks and over her lips, that had somehow, after everything, managed to shape themselves into a smile...
Maybe now she'd be at rest. She hadn't been sure if she believed in a God or not, but at that moment, she really hoped that God had never existed, or had somehow not given her the option of Heaven or Hell. Because once she stopped feeling all the pain, all the pressure, the blackness she faded into was the sweetest sleep, the sweetest oblivion she could have ever imagined.
Her thoughts didn't abruptly stop, they just faded into the universe, nothing more than little bits of energy... Of one useless life... Of one useless girl... Who meant nothing.
The black oblivion, I wish it had lasted forever.
But it didnt.
~Okay, sorry that was so long. It was something I had written in the notes of my iPod, possibly as the start to a book, or just a random scene/idea that had played out in my head.~