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Title: Precious
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,094
Disclaimer: I own everything.
Note: First try at writing an original story. Angst.
Warning: Suicide attempt.
Summary: Life is precious, even though you might not think so...
On the mattress next to her bed, her best friend, the brother she'd never had, appeared to be asleep. She studied his peaceful face for an instant, then rolled over to stare at the pictures pinned to the wall, lost in thought.
"What's on your mind?" A soft voice behind her brought her back to reality. Her best friend sat down on the bed, his usually light brown eyes darkened by concern.
"Nothing." Sighing, she sat up. His eyes bore into hers, and it was clear that he didn't believe her.
She averted her eyes; he grabbed her chin and turned her face back towards him. "Spill," he ordered.
His sadness was clearly visible in the two pale orbs. The young boy had been through a lot; people often wondered how he'd managed to handle it through all these years.
The girl sighed again, knowing that she wouldn't get away with it. "I'm just sick!" she exclaimed. "Sick of everything. I'm tired of always falling in love with guys that don't deserve me and don't give a fuck about me. Sick of getting yelled at by almost everyone, ¾ of the time. I can't stand hearing my parents fight 24/7. My favorite cousin, who used to be my hero, turned out to be drug-addicted. My grades are falling, and I don't know why. I just feel that nothing is in my control anymore!" Tears leaked out of her eyes, and she didn't bother wiping them away as he friend's eyes focused on her. He looked truly shaken up by the confessions.
Saddened by the message of desperation, he suddenly drew her into a hug. "Girl, I didn't know you felt that way," he whispered, gently stroking her hair. "I'm so sorry. I should have realized. What kind of friend am I, if I couldn't even notice how troubled you are right now?" He held her as the barriers of her soul gave in, his own threatening to fall as well.
Finally, as the sun started to rise, she had no more tears to shed. Sniffling, she raised her head and her eyes met his. "I took a decision. I'm leaving."
He opened his mouth to say something, but she held her hand up to cut him off. "I'm leaving," she repeated, "not only this house, this street, this town… but also this life."
His eyes widened as he realized what she meant. "You want to kill yourself?!?!?" She nodded gravely.
He chewed on his lower lip, his brain working hard as he thought. Finally, he stopped and looked at her. "I'm going with you."
These five words would make a whole difference.
She looked at him, her expression a mixture of surprise, shock, and sadness. "What? No!" she almost shouted. "Don't-"
He silenced her and ran a hand through his light hair. "You know, a whole bunch of things happened to me. Everywhere I go, people that know me say, 'Look at this boy, he's been through shit more than half of his life, and yet he has this happy-go-lucky attitude all the time'… Hell, I'm only 15 fucking years old, but sometimes I feel like I'm 30…" He chuckled sadly. "They only see the exterior. Inside, that's another story. I saw my older sister die before my very eyes when I was merely 9, then my dad started drinking, beating the hell out of my mom and I, almost killing her…" He showed her the scar on his forehead, painful reminder of these time. "I don't think I can go on anymore. I've been thinking of suicide a lot lately, but… I never told you, but you're the reason I'm still here today. You're the only one who stood by my side when my life became living hell. If you're not here anymore, if you leave me, then I have no reason to stay." He gave her soft smile. "Sometimes I really think that you're my soul, and if you died, then I'd have this soul ripped off from me."
She studied his face. Determination filled his eyes. "You sure?" she asked.
He nodded, his face reflecting his seriousness. "I am."
The ambulance sped along the main street, on its way to the nearest hospital. Aboard were a woman and two unconscious teenagers, surrounded by paramedics.
The woman was the girl's mother. Coming home from work, she had found the teenagers' unconscious bodies on the bathroom floor. Wrists sliced, they were laying in a pool of their own blood. She had at once dialled 911.
"Looks like a suicide pact," a police officer had commented upon arriving at the scene.
They still breathed, but they were barely alive…
Dear parents, friends, family,
We apologize to whoever was misfortunate enough to find us.
We're really sorry, but we had to do this. We are sick of this living hell that are our lives. This was the only way out of here.
We love you all, and hope you have good lives.
Sorry again.
Her eyes fluttered open. All she could see was white, and darker forms moving around. And she felt as though someone was clutching her hand very tightly.
"Is this Heaven?" she mumbled.
She heard chuckles. "No, this place is called a hospital," someone answered.
She turned her head in the general direction of the voice. "Why, aren't we both dead?" she asked faintly.
"Because fate decided otherwise." He paused. "You've been out cold for two days, I was so worried about you! I woke up about 3 hours after they stitched me."
He held up his wrists, showing her the bandages wrapped around them. Glancing down, she saw that her own wrists were similarly bandaged.
Before she could say anything else, doctors and nurses surrounded her, cutting all contact with her best friend.
When at last he was allowed back into her room, he sat down on the chair beside her bed, and they looked at each other, not exactly knowing what to say. Finally, he just took her hand and kissed her forehead.
"We chose the coward way out," he said. "Instead of facing our problems and do something to solve them, we decided to escape them. And I realize that it wasn't the right decision. Now that we're given a second chance, we'll face them and we'll make it through. Together."
