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Coral Stewart is a nerdy seventeen year old girl who is way too smart for her own good. She has already graduated and has been hired at St Martin's, an all boys school.
The only problem with this is that she...
Trigger warning - There will be dark themes shown in this chapter. If you don't think you can handle anything related to suicide or cutting, please just skip to the next chapter.
Chapter 32- Tears
I step into the room, feeling completely empty. It's a feeling I can't explain at all. My entire body just feels numb and empty, like there is nothing left inside me. No feelings, not even pain. It's just so empty.
My phone rings and, without looking at the caller ID, I pick it up, hoping that for some reason it might be Wyatt.
"Happy Birthday, Sweetheart! You're eighteen! How was your day? Did you get or do anything special? I'm sorry I couldn't call earlier, the timezone was different. I won't be able to come down, Max is misbehaving again. I'm so sorry, darling. Thank you for being such an amazing daughter. I love you, and will see you next holiday!" my mom says on the other side of the call.
"Birthday?" I check my calendar and see that it is my birthday, the seventeenth of August. "Oh, I've been so busy that I didn't even notice." I let out a fake laugh, hoping my mom won't realize how fake it really is.
There is a loud crashing in the background of the call. "Max!" My mom screams and then she talks to me again, "I'm sorry, I have to go. I love you. Have a nice day. Bye!"
"But-" the call ends, leaving me silent. I sit down on the bed, staring down at the floor. My vision becomes blurry and tears fall down my cheeks.
I'm so pathetic. I'm weak, selfish, mean, utterly pathetic and completely useless.
How could I be hurt when I'm the one that did this? I made the mistake and it's my fault that Wyatt is hurt. It's my fault that this happened. I can't even blame Wyatt for saying he doesn't love me.
It's my birthday.
"I can't do this," I say to myself and then I walk into the bathroom and fill up the bath. "I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't fucking do this."
"I'm weak," I state, and then I drop my razor to the floor, stepping on it so that I can get a piece of the sharp metal. "I'm selfish." I pick up a sharp and long blade from the floor. "I'm mean." I turn off the bath and step in, my clothes still on. "I'm pathetic." I slide down, sitting in the warm bath.
"I'm useless." A tear slips down my cheek and I lift the razor up to my wrist.
"Happy birthday to me," I sing and slowly sink the blade into my forearm, cutting horizontally several times. "Happy birthday to me." I bite down on my lip to try and divert the pain.
After a few more cuts, I sink my arm into the water, crying out in pain. The stinging and burning sensation is unbearable, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep my arm under water.
I wait, and minutes pass. The burning in my arm starts to fade as I get used to it, and I watch as the water starts to go completely red.
My head slowly starts feeling lighter, and I lean it back against the bath. I don't care if I die. I don't want to be here. I don't care if I look weak. I am weak. But, so what? Nobody needs me. I'll go to university, then I'll work until I'm old, and then I'll die anyway. I'm going to die alone anyway, I might as well just not waste any time, right?
It feels like I'm not even real anymore. Everything feels like it's just a dream, but I know it's not. The pain in my forearm reminds me that this is real.
I'm dying.
I laugh. "Nobody cares," I whisper, more unshed tears slipping down my face.
I hear knocking on the door, but I don't do a thing. I don't call for help, already regretting my decision. I don't ask who it is, not caring at all. Nothing can stop me from dying. I want to die.
Dying would be the best birthday present I could get today.
Please just let me have this one thing. This is all I ask for. I just want to be happy again, and I know I can't do it here. I can't do it alone.
"Coral?" I hear someone shout.
The room door open and they come to knock on the bathroom door. "Coral, I know you're in there."
"Well done," I manage to say, my body hurting when I say it.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."
Everything starts fading out, and everything slowly gets darker.
I know whose voice it is on the other side of the door. It's the boy that's killing me inside. He's here. Maybe he's here to help me die.
"I love you," their voice screams, sounding surreal. I laugh gently, one more time.
It's too late.
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How does that Melanie Martinez song go? It fits perfectly to this chapter.
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T w i t t e r : xPineappleGirlx I n s t a g r a m : laylzk S n a p c h a t : laylz_k
