Page 134 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

One night, after bolting upright in bed with my heart hammering against my ribs, I stared at the ceiling and thought, I could make it stop.

The idea arrived softly. Almost kindly.

I didn’t have to keep dragging this ruined body through a life I no longer wanted. I could join them. Mom. Harmony. I could slip away and finally be with the only people who had ever loved me.

The medicine cabinet stopped being an object.

It became an exit.

Two nights later, I waited until the 2 a.m. nurse finished her rounds. My legs still shook as I slipped out of bed and gripped the walker. The hallway was dim and silent except for the distant beep of machines. I moved slowly, painfully, counting every door until I reached the nurses’ station.

The key was exactly where I had seen them leave it.

My hands shook so violently it took several attempts to unlock the cabinet. Rows of bottles and vials gleamed under the weak light. I didn’t know what most of them were. I just grabbed whatever looked strong, bottles of pills, a few syringes, and shoved them into the pockets of my hospital gown.

Back in my room, I poured the pills into my lap. A small mountain of white and blue. For the first time in weeks, my mind felt strangely clear. Peaceful, almost.

I swallowed the pills in greedy handfuls, washing them down with tiny sips of water. Some caught in my throat, but I kept forcing them down until nothing remained.

I lay back against the pillows and closed my eyes.

I pictured Mom smiling tiredly over the soup pot. Harmony waving the bread knife, arguing about nothing important. The three of us safe in our small world.

Wait for me, I thought as darkness folded around me. I am coming.

I woke to blinding lights and machines screaming.

My stomach heaved violently. A tube was shoved down my throat again. I gagged, wanting to rip it out, but my hands were restrained. A doctor’s face appeared above me.

“She’s awake. Keep her sedated.”

No. I tried to scream but only a weak, broken sound escaped around the tube. Tears burned my eyes as the brutal truth crashed over me.

I had failed.

The realization carved a fresh wound deeper than any of the others. I didn’t want to be saved. I wanted to disappear. I wanted the hurting to stop.

Instead, I was still here.

Janet appeared in my blurred vision, her face pale and hollow with exhaustion.

“Harper… why, sweetheart? Why would you do that?”

I turned my face away as much as the restraints allowed. Fresh tears slipped down my cheeks.

I had been so close. And now I had to start all over again.

Three days later, they transferred me to the psychiatric ward. The questions began immediately and never really stopped.

“Do you have a plan to harm yourself again?”

“Do you intend to make another attempt?”

“On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your current desire to die?”

I answered whatever I thought would make them leave me alone. Once, when a kind-eyed psychiatrist asked if I planned to try again, I muttered, “I doubt it.”

Wrong answer.