|Almost Did It
Author: Kamon24121 PM
A story about this heartbroken teenage girl Mary. She hurts herself. Will her mother find out? Is her mother the reason she hasn't already committed suicide? Read to find out. ONE SHOT!Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Horror - Words: 1,253 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 07-01-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3037900
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I loved him and I don't know what happened.
Brad was sweet and funny.
He had everything I liked and nothing I didn't...litterally nothing.
I actually looked for things in him that I didn't like and I couldn't find a single thing.
Now he's gone...
We don't talk, we see each other every single day, but we just don't talk.
I want to so badly, but it hurts whether I talk to him or not.
I don't see any reasons for moving on and living in the moment doesn't work for me.
I'm constantly thinking of all of the great things that happened to me with Brad and I just can't believe it's all over.
I can't take it...
I won't take it anymore.
My mom doesn't understand.
Maybe my father would, but he's gone.
He's off with another woman.
He's part of the reason I don't like to trust guys with my heart.
He left my mother when I was two years old and my mother and I had to live in a shelter for a long time.
My childhood was hard because of him.
Now he finally divorced my mom and we're still struggling to save the little apartment that we live in.
Brad made things better.
He made me forget about everything hard.
Just for that split second in his arms I would just be there...and forget my whole childhood and just live in that moment.
Now that moment is gone and just another memory.
I have a lot of memories now.
Good and bad... I keep them all.
I can't stand it anymore though.
My mother can't find a jod, Brad isn't talking to me, my father left me and still won't send a single penny to help my mother, I'm slowly loosing everything that was mine.
I give up...
I give in.
I just... can't take it anymore.
I pulled out the gun my father left a long time ago, the pain killers, and a knife.
The gun meant a lot to me because my father held it up to my mother's head once...and I was standing right infront of him when he did it.
If it weren't for me screaming at him to leave my mother alone, my mother might've not even been here to support me throughout these past years.
I shook that memory away and stared at the three items I picked out for a while, just thinking.
Thoughts went through my head.
More memories... words... pain came slowly after that.
I shook my head.
I wasn't quite sure what to do or which one to use first.
I closed my eyes scared for my pathetic life and reached my hand out.
I felt the thing that I grabbed and knew right away that it was the knife.
I gulped as I pulled it toward me and opened my eyes.
The blade was one of the sharpest I had.
I looked around; my mother wasn't home.
And I didn't have any siblings...maybe if I did I'd be watching them right now and not doing this, but since I didn't...I was going to go along with my plan.
I smiled, not exactly knowing why, as I placed the blade over my bare leg.
I cut and I cut deep, but I didn't make a sound.
A tear fell from my left eye as I continued cutting myself.
I switched to my other leg and then my left arm.
More tears fell and I dropped the knife.
That was enough...
I looked up at the ceiling and sat there and cried.
The cuts were deep and were probably going to scar, but I didn't care.
I sighed and wiped my tears away and went back to the pain killers bottle.
I reached for it without blinking and opened it up.
I picked two out and popped them in my mouth and swallowed them without water.
I hated doing that, but I didn't really care right now.
I didn't care about anything right now.
What's going to happen if my mom comes home from looking for a job and sees me like this?
What is going to happen if she knows I do this?
I almost kill myself every single day and she still doesn't know...
Will she find out today?
Every day I think the same things and today I felt a little more suicidal than usual.
I cried longer than I usually did and for the first time... I thought about actually using the gun.
I looked at the gun with a sigh.
I was scared for my life.
I reached out for it and my fingers shook as they touched the trigger.
I wanted so badly to just push it, but I couldn't.
I picked it up and looked it over.
Every inch of the gun had me mesmorized for some reason.
The front door opened and I quickly scrambled to put everything away.
I put the gun back on the shelf that my mother kept it on, the pain killers back in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror in the bathroom and the knife in the sink, luckily there wasn't any blood on it, otherwise my mother would be suspisious.
That happened one time and when she questioned me about it, I quickly ran over to the sink and watch it off trying to convince her that it was just raspberry jelly.
She fell for it and ever since I've been careful not to let her find out my secret.
I sat down in my little bedroom, put a blanket on over my legs and arm, and quickly picked up a random romance novel, how ironic, and opened up to a random page holding it with my unharmed arm.
"Mary, where are you?" my mother called as she got inside and shut the door.
"In here," I called and flipped the page when I ran across a paragraph about kissing.
She walked in and smiled at me.
I looked up. "Um.. Mom? Why are you smiling?"
"I got a job!" she squeeled.
I smiled, I was truly happy, that meant that we weren't going to have to move!
"That's great!" I cried and threw the book across the room and got up to hug her.
She nodded and hugged me back lovingly.
At least something good finally happened.
...What if I killed myself today thought?
I mean, I had the gun in my hands and was fasinated by the trigger.
I wanted to do it... I know it.
I guess I'm glad I didn't.
But at the same time... I'm a little dissapointed.
I wish I did it, but at the same time... I don't want my mom to come home one day and see me dead on the kitchen floor.
My mother cooked my favorite dinner and brought it to my room.
She must've been in a really good mood since she finally got a job because she almost never let me eat in my own bedroom.
"Thanks," I mummbled as I took it.
As I ate I felt bad.
I didn't deserve this... I didn't deserve any of this.