AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The light up ahead turns red, but I floor it and speed through the intersection. I’m being reckless but all I can focus on is getting to the hospital as fast as I can.
I didn’t make it in time for Mom. I’m sure as fuck not going to let that happen again.
“James.” The desperation in Leo’s voice terrifies me.
“Keep pressure on her arm. We’ll be there in another minute. Phoenix, baby, I need you to hold on just a little bit longer.”
I blow through another light and speed around the cars clogging up the lane.
When we finally get to the hospital, my tires barely screech to a stop before I’m out of the car.
I take Phoenix from Leo, both of them covered in blood. “We’re here, baby. We made it. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
It has to be.
24
Phoenix
Daily Affirmation: “I have gratitude for every experience I have encountered.”
Two years ago,I woke up in the hospital…
The lights above seared my eyes. My body felt heavy and I didn’t have the strength to lift my arms or my legs. Muffled voices surrounded me. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, or who they even were. It felt as if I was underwater, weighed down by a sandbag.
Then a shadow fell over me, blocking the blinding lights. I blinked to clear my vision, but it was too blurry to see anything. I forced my body to move, attempting to sit up, but everything spun and my stomach roiled. Then a deep, throbbing pain surged through my left forearm, and that’s when I remembered.
I remembered it all.
My mother’s unmistakable shrill voice cut through the fog. “Phoenix, are you awake? Can you hear me?”
“Stop shouting, Mom. You’re going to scare her.”
My heart ached at the soothing sound of my brother’s voice.
I lifted my hand, reaching out for him. Hot tears stung my eyes as I croaked out his name.
“I’m here,” he said. Warmth engulfed my hand. “She’s cold. Get her another blanket.”
I swallowed past the dry lump in my throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh. Everything’s going to be okay.”
As my vision came into focus, I noted the firm line of Mom’s mouth. The clench of her jaw, the crease between her brows. It’s an expression I’d seen countless times—an expression I’d induced.
She was mad.
Deep down, I knew she would be. Mad at what I did, or mad that she couldn’t fix me. Or maybe she was just mad that I’d survived. Like she was disappointed that I couldn’t even successfully kill myself.
It was too much—the harshness of waking up, the pain, the guilt, and the tidal wave of grief. So, I closed my eyes and pretended to fall back asleep despite the questions swirling through my head.
I hadn’t planned for it. I don’t think anyone does. You’re not supposed to witness the aftermath of your suicide.
I snuck a peek at my brother as he guided my mom to a nearby chair. He showed her his phone. “Look. This place looks nice.”
“Do you really think a place like that is going to help? She’s lived in a wonderful house with a wonderful family all her life, and none of that mattered.”
She wasn’t wrong. With a normal life like mine, why would anyone want to die? I’ve never been able to understand it. Depression is a crazy, traitorous disease. It tricks you into thinking things that aren’t true.
