Lennon
Rain droplets slithered down the window of my second-story apartment. I watched their movements—repetitive, mindless, yet oddly calming—losing myself in the monotony of it all.
Blinking, I looked down at the water I was submerged in, my bare body lying still beneath the surface. The bathwater had gone cold, yet I hadn’t moved.Why couldn’t I just fucking do it already?My eyes squeezed shut, willing myself to be fucking brave, just this once.
Death had entered my mind long ago—as far back as I could remember, from the night that everything changed.
Once it arrived, it never left. It had set up shop, burrowed in, clinging to whatever flesh it could sink its claws into. It gnawed inside me, turning good, soul-filled things into rotting carcasses. The darkness spread deeper and deeper until every trace of hope vanished. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt okay.
Maybe I never had.
I sucked in a desperate breath before hauling myself up and out of the clawfoot tub that had enveloped me for the past hour. Cool air prickled against my skin, encouraging goosebumps to pebble instantly. I lifted one foot over the edge and stepped onto the towel that was laid across the floor. A familiar heavinesssettled on my shoulders, like the weight of the world pressing down.
But that wasn’t new.
“I’m just running to the grocery store, pumpkin. Did you want to tag along?” he asked gently. I huffed, like an ungrateful brat. “Do I get to pick out a toy?”
He chuckled to himself. “Not every outing means you get something in return. Come! Give Mama some time to herself.” I shook my head stubbornly and crossed my arms. He eyed me with those green eyes that matched mine with unconditional love and kindness. Kneeling to my level, his outstretched arms, motioning for me to give him a big hug. Moments passed by while I refrained.
“I want a toy!” I barked at the same time as stomping my foot.
Chuckling half-heartedly, he pushed the weight of his body upwards from his knee and stood back up. “Love you, pumpkin. I’ll be home soon and maybe, just maybe, we can watch a movie since it’s the weekend!”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Those fucking nightmares wouldn’t fade, no matter how hard I tried. It had been years, yet they still felt just as fresh as the moments they happened. They crept in when I least expected—blurring the edges of my vision, demanding to be seen. A constant reminder of just how much I had failed.
I wrapped my frigid body in an oversized towel, forcing myself to choke back the tears threatening to fall. This wasn’t the time for pity, it wouldn’t get me anywhere now. None of it would.
This was all my doing. My entire life had pivoted in an instant, rocked off its axis, all because of the choices I made.
Those selfish fucking choices.
Breathing a deep sigh, I stalked toward my bedroom, searching for something decent to wear to my therapyappointment. Rachel was hell-bent on changing my mind about suicide. She never outright said I shouldn’t think about it, but she poured everything into understanding the psychology behindwhyI felt the way I did. I supposed it was her job, but sometimes it just felt like she didn’t get it—didn’t getme. Instead I felt like I was some kind of project. A specimen under her microscope, always under examination.
I yanked open the stubborn closet door and took stock of what was left. Laundry day was creeping up again. The weight that was on my shoulders grew heavier.
One more task. One more unbearable task.
I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t…
Peering behind me, scanning the floor of my cramped bedroom, I spotted a beige hoodie and a pair of wide-leg jeans that looked somewhat clean. I brought them to my face, inhaling deeply, checking for any trace of expiration. Good enough.
Once I got dressed, I made my way to the bathroom—I couldn’t hold off much longer before it all became unbearable.
Snapping open the cabinet, I reached for the unlabelled pill bottle—my tiny stash of freedom. Earlier this year, when I’d been admitted for suicidal ideation, I met a guy in the ER, Jase. He had cancer.
They’d given him Dilaudid, along with a cocktail of other meds for pain management, but he hated the way they made him feel.
Me? I was there looking for anything that could numb what was clawing at me from the inside out.
Cue a match made in whatever version of hell this life is.
Since then, Jase and I had struck a quiet arrangement. Thanks to him, I maintained a predictable stock of hydromorphs that dulled the sharp edges of misery that clung to my body. Opening the bottle, I exhaled softly, eyes shutting.
Two pills left. I’d need to message him today.
But then, a flicker of confusion passed through me.Had I taken too many this week? The days had started bleeding together, and I couldn’t remember if I’d paced myself or screwed up again.
