Part One
If I should die…
Chapter One
Bizzy (Elizabeth)
Ahandful of pills and a heart full of agony. I could end it all right now. Before my next ‘episode’, before my mind cracks any more than it already has.
End it. Do it.
It’s eerie how calm I feel, wiping away the tears falling silently. Almost like this is the right choice. I’ll stop being a burden on my parents, Siler…
“Biz, don’t forget to call me when you wake up.”
How long before Siler comes to find me?
He should be at basketball practice, which won’t be over for at least an hour.
But I picture him finding my body…
I can’t do that to him.
His normally sunny face crumpled. Panic… blame. He’d blame himself for it. Thinking he wasn’t enough to keep me going.
I’m midstep from my doorway when a stabbing pain shoots through my head, falling as my limbs jerk. Vision reddening until it goes black.
My tongue is bleeding when I roll to my side groaning. Seconds or minutes later… time loses meaning when an episode hits me, I don’t know how long I have until the next one strikes.
Days can go by, sometimes a week. Then I’ll have three in an hour. There is no consistency, no answers.
My body is shutting down.
Doctors have scratched their heads over my sudden symptoms, while tests show nothing useful. Treating the symptoms has proven difficult.
Impossible really.
Fixating on the threadbare corner of my purple shag rug, I wiggle, testing my arms and legs. After what Siler calls a ‘glitch’, it can take several minutes to feel strong enough to move. Blood drips from my nose, my left side pulsates painfully in the aftermath.
I passed terror long ago.
Now I willfully refuse to get caught up in my feelings.
I’m simply done. Angry and done.
But the physical repercussions of this illness is nothing compared to my memories slipping away.
My childhood feels removed from me, even my parents feel like strangers.
Not Siler, though.
Even with the holes in my past, I knowhim. He mentions something to jog my memory and I get back pieces that had swam away.
He is theonlyperson I cling to.
Slowly I sit up, wiping the back of my hand across the blood trickling from my nose. The pills I’d held in my hand are partially crushed, lying on the floor several feet from me.
Do it. End it.
