Please note if you have a previous history of self harm do NOT read this. I WILL trigger you. Also, it is extremely gory and violent.

The author of this particular piece wishes to remain anonymous. I allowed her to use my account to post this. Please do not ask who it is. Although some would know. Thank you.

I snap the computer down and breathe out. I consider opening the laptop again. But the voice reminds me. "They won't care if you die or not. No one cares." I grab the computer and smash it on the marble white tiles. It makes an awful shattering noise that give me instant pleasure. And only one thought, and one word runs though my mind.


I've already said my goodbyes to him; I know there is two other goodbyes in order. I take my phone; punch in the sequence of letter that spell her name. And type this: "Thank you for being a friend. Goodbye." After I confirm the message is sent, I smash my mobile on the tiles, making at similar crashing noise. I run to the desk located in the front corner of my room, take out a pencil and paper. She soon as my hands grab the hard wood, I feel him come on. He enters my mind, and tries to stop me from writing the letter. My final goodbyes are all jumbled, and make no sense. Only on does however.

"He deserves far more then me. I've never met someone like him before, and it kills me to know I never will. I wish he was here with me." The words flow equally and calmly. Tears pour down my face, and once I sign the letter. I put the cold wood down, and run to the bathroom. In the small little white holder in the middle of the shower wall, is the razor. I did what I do best, and destroy the plastic sealing the thin blade. Once the plastic shatters in about four different prices, the shinny grey blade glistens in the windows light. Never has something looks so good and appetizing, and yet so deadly. My knees buckle and my fingers fumble for the blade. I lift it trying to cut my fingers in every way possible. Once I have to blade secured between my thumb and index finger, I lower it to my thigh. I breathe out again, and press the sharp blade into my upper thigh. The blade pierces my skin, and I feel a small amount of pain, but not enough. I know if I go deeper, it will damage something. But I don't care, I press on, until I feel the pain flow with the blood. No matter how deep I feel it slice, I'm not feeling the claiming affect like I should. I feel a bullet of pain run though my body, and the bleeding is out of control. I've obvious hit something I shouldn't have. But I still don't care. It's clear that cut is not enough. Nothing is never enough. The cut, my efforts, not enough. I manage to grip the side of the bath with my red fingers, and hobble to the cupboard located just next to me. I can't walk properly so I know that I've seriously hurt my leg. But I don't care, nothing or no one will matter after I'm done. I open the white cupboard layering it with thick red glug. I take out the red checkered pattern box, and fine the box I've been looking for...rather, the boxes. "Thank god my parents buy in bulk" I think. I open the white box, and see the silver shelf of pills protected by the plastic pop out. I hastily pop out one by one the pills, as I'm doing it swallowing the one before the next. My mouth fills with the taste of the disgusting Medicine and my own metallic blood. The first box lies in my stomach, so I desperately take the next. Box after boxed is shoveled into my mouth. I still feel nothing. I hear a noise outside, and I spit one of the pills out in shock. I look at the bathroom in horror. I figured I would be dead by now, so there's no point to clean. I didn't consider guests though my death. Instead of a desperate attempt to clean the blood of the walls and floors. I just lie there silent. I can't move anyways. My head feels extremely light headed guessing from the blood loss. It's not until the door swings open do I size my hopes of death...are over. Standing at the door is my best friend, Alison. She looks at me in schlock. In her hand she carries her phone. Her hair is all messed up, and make-up runs her beautiful face. After a few moments of examine the room, and me. I figure she would run away, in-stead she runs to me. Which is odd. Tears flood my face, and she grabs the razor from me and pushes it away it slides across the floor. She then grabs the boxes, and throws them also. She is hesitant to touch my body, I'm guessing because its layered in thick red die.

“How did you know?” I ask breathless. She looks at me while trying to clean the wound on my leg.

“Josh.” She whispers. She then raises her head and blocks her ears. “HELP! SOMEONE HELP US” she screams. It’s the loudest I’ve ever heard anything before. A few moments later, my parents rush into the room. My father first, he over looks the blood, almost as if he doesn’t see it. And rushes to my side.

My mother sees the room, and blots away. Seconds latter I hear he desperate cry, I’m guessing into the phone. The only thing I can think of is josh. Is he okay? If he sent her he must be worried.

“Please Alison, please tell him I’m okay. And that everything’s okay.” I says complexly breathless. The situation is making me feel drowsy. She nods.

“As soon as you’re taken care of I will. I promise.” She says the tears flooding her face. As are mine. I would argue with her, but something stops me. My mind goes completely foggy, and my limbs begin to shake. I have no idea what’s going on, I can hear and see my father panicking. But I cant feel anything except my whole body shaking uncontrollably. But father holds down my body, and tries to contain me. If I could control my limbs I would, but there shaking involuntary. A white froffy liquid seeps from my mouth. It takes like sweat. It’s disgusting, but Alison turns my body over so it can seep out. A few moments late a see the treed of white shoes in front of my face. And a red bag at the same level of someone’s ankles. I’m turned back over, to look at a man with an advanced face, but beautiful features. He asks Alison something but I cant make it out.

“Hello Jemma. I’m Roger. I’m here to help you.” He smiles while ripping the Velcro from his bag. “Ahh, you’re not in very good shape. Sweetie, I need you to tell me your last name.” he says calmly.

I cough up a bit more of the white liquid. “Stone.” I croak.

“Yes that’s right. And do you know what day it is?” he asks while another young man rushes to my side with a long white canvas board.

“Friday.” I struggle. She smiles somewhat.

“Listen, were going to have to lift you now. Are you ready?” I try to nod, but my neck feels stiff. He reads my expression none the less. He nods back at me, and Alison and my father step back. Roger and the young man lift me on the white canvas board. And then on to a rolling bed. They strap me in, and I can barely keep my eyes open. My whole body aces, and my stomach feels dead. I remind myself that this is what I want.

“Ok, were going to take you into the ambulance now. Who would you like with you?” roger asks. I say the first name to pop I my head.

“Josh.” I whisper. The man nods and looks to Abigail. She whispers something in his ear, and he looks sorrowfully at me.

“He can’t get here I’m afraid. Were going to put you with your father ok?” he asks, I want to demand Josh be here. But I’m simply to weak to fight anything at all. Abigail lets go of my hand she has been griping the entire way. And though a bumpy road I’m wheeled into the big red truck.