Found

Twenty

Warning: Suicide, The Voice
Hours past. That whole time, all I did was lay there, staring at my ceiling, unable to find the motivation to move, to do anything.

My wrist stung, my body was sore, and yet, the only pain that bothered me was the ache in my chest that hadn't gone away since Scott left.

I spent hours in the same position, fighting the demons that tugged at my head, nothing more than shadows that I turned into monsters.

I reached above my head and grabbed my pillow, pulling it down to hold it tightly to my chest, trying to push the ache away. But it wouldn't leave. I guess it was better than the periods where I didn't even care. I would lay there, in the shadows, devoid of feeling, for hours, some times days, with no motivation to do anything. I wouldn't eat, barely drank, slept a lot, and just wasted my life away.

Those times made me feel even worse and sapped even more at my energy. It was amazing I even got out of bed most days.

It didn't help that left and right, Rape and abuse victims were killing themselves. It seemed so easy. So simple. A quick way to finally cut away all ties, finally end all the pain. All the pain caused by this dark tunnel that seemed to have no light at the end.

And yet, you are too big of a fucking chicken to even try!

The voice shrieked at me.

You act like you are all brave, holding out this long, but in reality, you are only still here because you can't bring yourself to end it. You're too afraid.

I shook my head against the mattress, blinking as more tears slipped out. I was surprised I was still crying, that I could bring myself to care enough anymore. I felt so empty.

My chest ached, and yet, whenever Scott was near, it didn't.

In the quiet of the house, I made a decision, one that would alter my life forever.

I drug myself out of bed, and moved slowly over to where I kept my AIDS medication.

One of each a day, was the instructions. This time, I dumped more than I should have. At least four for every bottle. I swallowed them, looking at my closet. I headed to the closet, cutting my feet on the glass, and I grabbed out the bloody capped pill bottle.

It was my mom's old anxiety medication. She would never miss it. Not when they changed it and she threw it out. Slowly, I opened the bottle and dumped the last of the contents into my hand, then my mouth. I let the bottle fall to the ground, landing on some of the shattered glass.

I looked around and found a single sheet of paper in my desk. Beside it was a pencil. I didn't remember putting them there, until I looked at the top of it. Scott had left it here.

I couldn't help but smile at the little doodles along the top and sides, though the rest of the paper was empty.

I sat down, grabbed the pencil, and set it to the clean paper, marking it up with my note.

'If you find this, I have already passed. God that sounds so cliche, but I don't care. I wanted to leave this note so that whoever did find me knows that I didn't leave because of them. No. This is all completely my fault. I caused this, I was the reason for all of your troubles, tears, worries. And I feel so bad. But the voice is right. I am simply a waste of space that other people in the world can use. Words alone cannot express how sorry I am for burdening you all for so long. Please! I'm begging you, don't mourn for me. I'm not worth it. As I write this, I can feel the pills starting to take effect. It won't be long now before you all have the freedom I denied you because of my patheticness.

Kirstie, you better say yes to Jeremy when he pops the question. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to have a family. I will be watching you, always, protecting you. I wish the best for you, and for him, no matter the outcome in your lives. Please keep smiling, even if it is hard.

Avi and Kevin, I never really got the chance to get to know either of you, but I will tell you right now, I ship it. Protect and love each other and never forget to say I love you. God. I sound like a grandparent. Whatever. Please keep your heads up.

Mom and Dad, I know you tried your hardest to help me get better, I know you wasted all this money on my medication. But don't worry, you won't have to anymore. I hated that you did. You burdened yourself with that, when I was the one who had the disease and was simply taking up space.

Scott, I know you tried your absolute hardest to keep that promise to made to me. I never really forgot, but I didn't trust that you really meant it. And yet you kept it, even though I am a difficult bastard. A slutty whore. But you never seemed to care about that. You helped as best you could. But in the end, it was useless. I was a lost cause from the start. You know, when you left, after I picked a fight with you, everything just kind of want black for me. Thank you for everything Scott. Even though I didn't deserve it.

I love you all, and wish I had been brave enough to unburden you sooner. Actually, it still kinda scares me, but I'm ready.

-Mitch'

I let go of the pencil and stood up, a wave of dizziness overtaking me. I felt a little fuzzy, like my hands almost weren't connected to me. After another step that almost sent me careening into the wall when my vision blackened, I dropped to my knees and crawled through the glass littered floor, trying to ignore the cuts on my hands and knees.

Stopping in the middle of it all, I reached out, grabbed the biggest, most jagged piece from the mirror and studied it, holding it tight enough to cut my fingers.

Come on. You've done it before. Cut up your arm. End it all. Not like your life matters to anyone, slut. You are good for noting but sex, and even now, you can't have true sex because you are sick. You could infect everyone you touch, just because you slept with everyone you could.

With the voice screaming at me, I held the shard firmly in my left hand and pressed it against the vein on the inside of my wrist. Breaking skin, I pushed it deeper and drug it all the was up to my elbow, blood coating the glass.

My fingers had already gone numb and the cut was ugly, just like I was. Shakily holding the glass in my other hand now, I repeated it, this wound even worse than the other.

Too weak to move, I laid back, clutching the bloody shard, feeling other pieces pierce my clothing and skin. But I was beyond caring.

I looked at my ceiling, smiled faintly, and closed my eyes for the last time, surrounded by blood and glass.

~°~
Oops? Ding dong, the Mitch is dead. (I am going to hell for that aren't I?)

Guess what!? Only a few chapters left, like two or three, then Found will end. Oh well. I guess Scömìche won't happen. *shrug*

What are your thoughts on the book so far. Honest opinions please? And guys, please answer this question. Don't just ignore it.

Oh and stay sexy
-Scomiche❤💛💚💙💜