Before I Go

Chapter 43- Help

Warning: This chapter contains cutting, suicidal thoughts/attempt. Reader discretion is advised.

The razor blade falls from my blood-covered hand and clatters to the floor as my fingers can no longer maintain their grip on it. At first, I'm not entirely sure if it's because of the slippery liquid coating both them and the razor or if it's because my brain has somehow wholly lost its control over the appendages. Either way, I think I may have gone a little overboard this time...

I stare at my wounded legs with hazy vision, watching as the red substance spills from the fresh cuts and pools onto the floor. The incisions are definitely deeper than they've ever been before... and more. There are so, so many more...

I'm not able to determine whether it's the loss of blood that is making it near impossible to see as my eyesight fades and blurs or if my eyes are so clouded with tears that it's difficult to see past them. And I'm not entirely sure if it matters. I don't really know when I started crying, either. I just...

Maybe it's time.

I can't take this anymore, always being anxious for no reason, constantly on edge, forever overthinking every little thing and turning it into something far more dramatic and gigantic than it should be. Besides, what have I ever really done to deserve a place in this world? I've never had any great achievements, never accomplished anything, really. No one should miss me, right?

I wouldn't.

This world is better off without me; everyone is better off without me. I was going to end it all in a few months, anyway. So there's no point in prolonging the inevitable, right? Not when I'm already here... At the point of no return. My mind whirls as I suddenly become dizzy, feeling as if there's nothing left within the confines of my head but air; I wonder if that's where the term "lightheaded" originated from. Ugh, Morgan... Who really cares about that? I try to sift through my thoughts, to organize them slightly as I attempt to make peace with this... With what could very well be the end for me.

This is what I wanted, right?

This was my plan all along. I never really cared about that so-called bucket list; I think it was just a form of procrastination, a way to delay this exact moment for a little while. I suppose that means it was successful; I could have just ended things months ago instead of trying to fulfill a list of things that never really mattered. This... This, right here, is exactly what I've been working toward.

I should be happy about this.

But... I can't stop the panic that fills my belly. My heart is racing, the intense need to do something to save myself increasing drastically as it becomes harder and harder to breathe. My mind screams at me to do something, literally anything, to stop the bleeding... Yet I don't. I can't. It's like I'm frozen in place, like I can't physically do anything other than watch the blood leave my body.

When I originally made the plan, I didn't have any friends at all; I had no one to support me or care about me. I was all alone. But now... Now, I have Ashton and Parker, two people who genuinely want what's best for me. Can I find it within myself to willingly give them up?

Do I really want to leave them?

No.

I've changed my mind; I don't want to die.

The tears are relentless, dripping down my face like the most violent rainstorm and blurring what remains of my vision. The droplets fall onto my legs as I continue to stare down at the many prominent cuts that now litter my flesh. I try with all my might to raise my arms and somehow apply pressure to the wounds, hoping to stop the bleeding, but my body won't move even a fraction of an inch. I don't know what to do... Obviously, I've gone too far this time; I've made a grave mistake, and I'm afraid to admit that it might be too late to fix it. As the dizziness consumes me, I rest my head back against the cold wall and close my eyes.

"Morgan, honey?" My mom's voice calls. It's faint to my ears, but it's enough to grasp onto; it's enough to keep me from falling unconscious entirely at this very moment.

Mom...

Oh, Mom...

I try to force my lips to move, begging my voice to work for just a few seconds, to form just a singular word to get my mom's attention. I... I obviously need help.

"Morgan, there's a boy here to see you. I hope you're decent because I'm sending him up," says Mom, not waiting any longer for a response from me. It's a good thing, too, as I'm evidently unable to give her one in my current state.

Decent...? I think I'm far from "decent" right now.

"Sunshine?" I hear Parker's voice say from outside the bathroom door, and a sliver of relief wedges its way into my chest. Parker is here. He's just a few feet away; he can help me.

Do I really want him to see me like this...?

I guess I don't really have a choice if I want to live.

It takes an incredible amount of effort, but I somehow manage to force my voice to cooperate with me. "Parker..." I call out weakly, more quietly than I had hoped; so quiet, in fact, that it's probable that he couldn't even hear me. I know I have to try again, to somehow be heard, to alert Parker to my desperate need for his help right at this moment.

There's an unexpected knock on the bathroom door, and I know this is my only chance. I try desperately to gather what's left of my strength, to call out once more before the darkness overtakes me entirely. "Morgan?" Parker's soft voice asks, and I can clearly hear his mounting concern. "Are you okay in there?"

With a shuddering breath, I push a single word past my lips, hoping to whatever higher power might be listening that Parker can hear me. "Help..."