Counting Down to Suicide

By Pacific-NW_Artist

20.8K 745 61

A depressed boy questions Death More

Preface
35 Days
33 Days
25 Days
24 Days
23 Days
15 Days
12 Days
11 Days
7 Days
2 Days
1 Day
8:45 am
About 12:00 pm
Epilogue
A.N.

0 Days - 7:50 am

1.1K 45 0
By Pacific-NW_Artist

It's hurting me, eating me from the inside out. The darkness that nearly consumed me before is back.

I'm walking down the hall from my room, trying not to make eye contact with my "family," when my sister comes up behind me and shoves me. I ram into the small decorative table next to me, bruising my hip and crushing the small lamp that sat on it.

As soon as I hear the soft crunch of the lamp being broken, fear courses through my veins. My parents freeze, and I watch them slowly turn to me with pure rage evident on their faces.

"You... worthless... FAG!" My mother screams, running at me, my father not far behind. My eyes widen, and I immediately drop to the floor, curling into the fetal position. It's just in time, because the abuse comes, fast and quick.

"We kept you here, you little fuck! Yet you continue to ruin things! I hate you, hate you, HATE YOU! Why can't you just die?! Nobody wants you here! Make our lives easier and kill yourself!" My mother sounds so hateful... screaming those awful words. I'm crying at this point; they'd said horrible things before, but never that they hated me or that I should die.

After fifteen minutes, they were done. But I'm hurting so badly, I can hear my joints popping as I try to haul myself off the floor. The glass shards that have been driven through my sweatshirt and deep into my arm are stinging and oozing blood. But I don't have time to go wash up, so I manage to get up and hobble out the door on my way to hell- I mean school.

~Time skip~

I drag myself all the way to school, wincing every time I move my left arm, which causes the glass pieces to dig deeper into my skin. But as soon as I get there, I'm stopped and dragged to the bathroom by my bully and his lackeys. The grip on my left arm almost makes me scream in pain, and I would if not for the hand covering my mouth.

None of the other people in the hall pay any attention, of course.

Once safely (yeah right) inside the bathrooms, they fling me to the ground and begin beating on me. I'm already numb from the hatred I felt this morning, and so they barely get a reaction. That is, until they start talking.

"Hey fag, I noticed that you're already pretty beat up this morning... your family finally decide that they hated you? Bet they wish you were dead." My bully looks down on me, sneering. "I pity them, having to deal with a waste of space like you. Do them and us both a favor and die, fuckup." He kicks me one last time for good measure, and leads the group out.

As soon as they're gone, I let the tears that had been welling up in my eyes flow down my cheeks. My heart feels like it's snapping in half; the pain I'm experiencing is killing me... just like a piece of the sharp glass slicing upward through my vein, letting my filthy blood drain from my body.

A smile forms on my lips, and I force myself into a sitting position, leaning my back against the wall. I reach around slowly, and pull a piece of glass from my bleeding arm. I hiss softly at the pain, but the sting quickly dulls down to an throbbing ache.

Turning the shard over in my hand, I realize what a beautiful piece it is. It's a soft cream color, with sunset orange and pastel pink swirled in. One of the edges, however, is tinged with my blood.

The edges of my lips curve upward again, because I now know that it is capable of completing the task that needs to be done.

It will kill me.

I roll up my sleeves, and set the tip of the glass piece on the vein, the vein that will end it all.

Death, this is it. I stab into my arm and drag the glass piece upward, and repeat the process with my other arm. How quickly the deed was done... my vision is already getting slightly hazy. But just then, a loud bang rings out as the bathroom door is flung open. Even through the cloud of pain and my dazed thoughts, I immediately recognize the person as Avery.

"MARCUS!" He immediately notices my bloody wrists and the pool of red liquid on the grimy floor, and his eyes flash open. "No no no no..." He runs over to me, and kneels down. "Marcus, why? WHY? Hold on, I'll call an ambulance..." Through my darkening vision, I watch him pull his phone out of his pocket, dial 911, and explain the situation. There are tears falling down his cheeks, and my heart twists.

Knowing that I don't have much time, as soon as he puts the phone down, I reach up to touch his tear-stained cheek. "A-Avery..." I swallow thickly. "I... I love you. Please don't ever forget that..." My hand drops, and the last thing I see before blacking out is Avery's beautiful blue eyes.

Avery... I'm so sorry.

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