Post by Yunalesca on Oct 13, 2015 15:43:41 GMT -8
There’s something wrong with you…And they’re going to fix you. Then you can come home. We can be a family again.
It was something she may have believed once, wanted to believe even, but as she was sitting on the roof of the building she could only laugh at the memory. She wasn’t fixable. Whatever was wrong with her was too much for her own family to handle. Her mother had promised she could come home and yet she never once came to visit. As soon as she had turned away and the door closed behind her, that woman had no longer been her mother. She had just been someone who gave birth to a troubled little girl who was easier to handle if she was out of sight and out of mind. She would never say it aloud, but the look in her eyes had been enough if the lack of visits weren’t a bigger sign. And through it all she blamed her mother most even though her father and brother never came or asked of her either. She was supposed to depend on one person in the world and her mother had let her down.
Or was it you that let –her- down? the question hung in the air as delicate fingers slid from her lap, scratching across the white gown that covered her legs before they wrapped around a shard of glass. One good this about white was how well blood showed up on it. Another good thing was that she knew some of the staff came up to the roof to drink, leaving broken bottles across the area. They worked around crazy people, they would never tell anyone if they smelled booze on them. Or if they did, who was more liable to be believed? The one who heard voices or the staff who kept the ‘misfits’ behind their prisonlike walls. She smirked at the thought as the green glass edge cut into her finger slightly sending that familiar shock of pain followed by the warm tingling of blood bubbling to the surface. She hadn’t always been like this. She hadn’t always tried to cut away her pain. Nothing in particular had made her snap. It had just crept up on her over time.
She reflected on this now, all the unsuccessful attempts she’d had at her own suicide that had landed her here in a psych ward that was all too easy to get out of. Well, not out the front door. Those were nearly impossible, but the roof or any other hall than the one her ‘padded room’ was on was effortless. They didn’t care. There was nothing around for any of the ‘loons’ to get themselves killed with so why not let them roam. This made her look down at the bare foot that was stretched out in front of her, the bruises and cuts from walking around the glass without protection. They never even noticed that. Just give them the meds and walk away. What difference did it make if they were never taken? They would just be taken away in a few hours and recycled for tomorrows use should someone decide they actually wanted ‘help’.
She sighed heavily while setting the now bloody glass shard in her lap, staining the pristine white of her hospital gown. She had tried to kill herself at least three times by slitting her wrists. She had scars running crosswise of the vein, but when she finally got serious she figured out the best way. Cuts ran up her arms from a piece of glass not unlike she had in her lap now, memory triggers of almost dying on the bathroom floor of her home. She didn’t remember if her mother screamed or not when she found her daughter in a pool of her own blood after one more attempt to end it. All she did remember was how her mother had begged the therapist to explain to her why her little girl wanted to kill herself. There were no answers. She was just depressed with no trigger. Medication would help.
And it had, until she got curious. She knew something was wrong when she became fascinated with death. The pills were supposed to keep her happy and not be thinking of such gloomy things. Naturally her parents got smart and took away sharp objects, anything that could cut the skin was kept under lock and key. Only one thing was available and it was conveniently prescribed to her. The last time she had attempted to end it she had taken the rest of the bottle of anti-depressants coupled with a handful of aspirin. Her brother found her this time and got her to the hospital without even consulting with their parents. She was kept under a watchful eye for the duration of her stay before being admitted to the Ward. That was the last time she had seen her father or brother and both had that look in their eye. They were tired and were ready to move on. That had been the first realization of what her actions did, but their inability to come see her made her care less about it.
And so she had made her decision over a week ago. Tonight it would be done with and there would be no slip ups. It was pretty hard to revive someone from a 13 story fall. But just in case the impact wouldn’t be enough her fingers went back to the glass shard in her lap, enveloping it like an old friend. “No mistakes.” She whispered to herself before she made her first cut crossways of her left wrist. The blood puckered and ran across her pale skin instantly, not a sound coming from her as she watched it before she made to do the same with her other wrist. She didn’t want to bleed out before taking to the ledge and so she didn’t cut up the vein like she had before. She took more time with her second wrist, letting herself feel the pain as a last living memory before she was finding her feet.
The shard clattered to the rooftop as she stood and made for the ledge of the building, her hands outstretched and catching on the brick ledge as she nearly stumbled, the blood coming out quicker than she had intended and making her a little lightheaded. She almost laughed at it as she straightened herself, her shoulder length wavy blonde hair coming out of her eyes as she did so. She let herself look over at the ground beyond before she began climbing up. But instead of standing tall on the ledge she took a seat, letting her feet dangle over the edge as she looked out over the woods while blood continued to slide down her wrists and trail onto the brick. It was almost poetic, she thought, as faint lights of the city could be seen through the trees. The breeze ruffled her gown as though in response while she closed her eyes. This was it. This was how she would die and nobody would care.
Before she could push herself up to her feet to make the jump she heard something faint behind her, the sound of shoes scuffling across the roof. In her light headed state she could only laugh softly. “Come to stop me? I didn’t think anyone cared enough for that. Or is it just how the ‘hospital’ would look if they let a girl kill herself?” She said with another laugh, though it wasn’t so full of mirth this time. It was more about irony. “I’m afraid you’re a little too late.” She offered, still not turning to the sound as she raised her bloody wrist for whoever it was to see. Or are you hallucinating, trying to wish that someone would care enough to stop you? she asked herself as she began to feel a little rocky on the ledge. She would have to jump soon or they might try saving her.
“Or you could just give a little push. I won’t tell.” She said in a weaker voice as her wrist dropped down to the brick ledge and into the small pool of blood.
It was something she may have believed once, wanted to believe even, but as she was sitting on the roof of the building she could only laugh at the memory. She wasn’t fixable. Whatever was wrong with her was too much for her own family to handle. Her mother had promised she could come home and yet she never once came to visit. As soon as she had turned away and the door closed behind her, that woman had no longer been her mother. She had just been someone who gave birth to a troubled little girl who was easier to handle if she was out of sight and out of mind. She would never say it aloud, but the look in her eyes had been enough if the lack of visits weren’t a bigger sign. And through it all she blamed her mother most even though her father and brother never came or asked of her either. She was supposed to depend on one person in the world and her mother had let her down.
Or was it you that let –her- down? the question hung in the air as delicate fingers slid from her lap, scratching across the white gown that covered her legs before they wrapped around a shard of glass. One good this about white was how well blood showed up on it. Another good thing was that she knew some of the staff came up to the roof to drink, leaving broken bottles across the area. They worked around crazy people, they would never tell anyone if they smelled booze on them. Or if they did, who was more liable to be believed? The one who heard voices or the staff who kept the ‘misfits’ behind their prisonlike walls. She smirked at the thought as the green glass edge cut into her finger slightly sending that familiar shock of pain followed by the warm tingling of blood bubbling to the surface. She hadn’t always been like this. She hadn’t always tried to cut away her pain. Nothing in particular had made her snap. It had just crept up on her over time.
She reflected on this now, all the unsuccessful attempts she’d had at her own suicide that had landed her here in a psych ward that was all too easy to get out of. Well, not out the front door. Those were nearly impossible, but the roof or any other hall than the one her ‘padded room’ was on was effortless. They didn’t care. There was nothing around for any of the ‘loons’ to get themselves killed with so why not let them roam. This made her look down at the bare foot that was stretched out in front of her, the bruises and cuts from walking around the glass without protection. They never even noticed that. Just give them the meds and walk away. What difference did it make if they were never taken? They would just be taken away in a few hours and recycled for tomorrows use should someone decide they actually wanted ‘help’.
She sighed heavily while setting the now bloody glass shard in her lap, staining the pristine white of her hospital gown. She had tried to kill herself at least three times by slitting her wrists. She had scars running crosswise of the vein, but when she finally got serious she figured out the best way. Cuts ran up her arms from a piece of glass not unlike she had in her lap now, memory triggers of almost dying on the bathroom floor of her home. She didn’t remember if her mother screamed or not when she found her daughter in a pool of her own blood after one more attempt to end it. All she did remember was how her mother had begged the therapist to explain to her why her little girl wanted to kill herself. There were no answers. She was just depressed with no trigger. Medication would help.
And it had, until she got curious. She knew something was wrong when she became fascinated with death. The pills were supposed to keep her happy and not be thinking of such gloomy things. Naturally her parents got smart and took away sharp objects, anything that could cut the skin was kept under lock and key. Only one thing was available and it was conveniently prescribed to her. The last time she had attempted to end it she had taken the rest of the bottle of anti-depressants coupled with a handful of aspirin. Her brother found her this time and got her to the hospital without even consulting with their parents. She was kept under a watchful eye for the duration of her stay before being admitted to the Ward. That was the last time she had seen her father or brother and both had that look in their eye. They were tired and were ready to move on. That had been the first realization of what her actions did, but their inability to come see her made her care less about it.
And so she had made her decision over a week ago. Tonight it would be done with and there would be no slip ups. It was pretty hard to revive someone from a 13 story fall. But just in case the impact wouldn’t be enough her fingers went back to the glass shard in her lap, enveloping it like an old friend. “No mistakes.” She whispered to herself before she made her first cut crossways of her left wrist. The blood puckered and ran across her pale skin instantly, not a sound coming from her as she watched it before she made to do the same with her other wrist. She didn’t want to bleed out before taking to the ledge and so she didn’t cut up the vein like she had before. She took more time with her second wrist, letting herself feel the pain as a last living memory before she was finding her feet.
The shard clattered to the rooftop as she stood and made for the ledge of the building, her hands outstretched and catching on the brick ledge as she nearly stumbled, the blood coming out quicker than she had intended and making her a little lightheaded. She almost laughed at it as she straightened herself, her shoulder length wavy blonde hair coming out of her eyes as she did so. She let herself look over at the ground beyond before she began climbing up. But instead of standing tall on the ledge she took a seat, letting her feet dangle over the edge as she looked out over the woods while blood continued to slide down her wrists and trail onto the brick. It was almost poetic, she thought, as faint lights of the city could be seen through the trees. The breeze ruffled her gown as though in response while she closed her eyes. This was it. This was how she would die and nobody would care.
Before she could push herself up to her feet to make the jump she heard something faint behind her, the sound of shoes scuffling across the roof. In her light headed state she could only laugh softly. “Come to stop me? I didn’t think anyone cared enough for that. Or is it just how the ‘hospital’ would look if they let a girl kill herself?” She said with another laugh, though it wasn’t so full of mirth this time. It was more about irony. “I’m afraid you’re a little too late.” She offered, still not turning to the sound as she raised her bloody wrist for whoever it was to see. Or are you hallucinating, trying to wish that someone would care enough to stop you? she asked herself as she began to feel a little rocky on the ledge. She would have to jump soon or they might try saving her.
“Or you could just give a little push. I won’t tell.” She said in a weaker voice as her wrist dropped down to the brick ledge and into the small pool of blood.
