Too Late

Here’s another one I wrote back in high school. No names, kinda depressing. Sorry. Again, typed verbatim.

x . x . x . x . x

She shut her eyes. She inhaled a deep concentrated breath. A wave of calm broke over her. She looked around her room with heavy lids. Her eyes wandered listlessly over the lyrics and quotes and random comments that were scribbled on her walls.

She has this tradition. Every time someone set foot in her room, whether it was their first time or they’d been there a million times, they were to write something on her wall. Anything and everything from Metallica lyrics to Shakespearean quotes to doodled cartoons were scrawled in vivid splashes of color. She read over each one in turn, pausing to reflect on some of the more memorable ones.

She abruptly turned her attention back to her diary. She had been scribbling her life and her thoughts away in a concentrated effort to make it all disappear, and yet in the single moment she’d paused, she’d completely lost her train of thought.

He never loved her. It was all a lie. A huge, fictional drama produced for the sole purpose of making fools of everyone involved. She’d been the biggest fool of all. She’s come back. Again and again she’d come back. ONly to get hurt again and again. She let her eyes stray over the scars that marred her otherwise flawless bare skin. From her wrists to her arms to her stomach and her ankles. Bright white scars glared up at he, a stark contrast to the happy life she pretended to lead.

She placed her black leather bound diary on her desk, open to the last page. She opened the drawer and pulled out her bottle of aspirin. The most horrible headache had been plaguing her all night. At least that’s what she’d told her parents. They were not to bother her with phone calls, annoying questions, or permit anyone into her room for any reason. She was just going to sleep.

At least that’s what she told them. She choked down aspirin after aspiring after aspiring, darling herself to drink enough water to flush the pills down. She lost count after 22. Then she sat placidly on her bed to wait. Her vision began to blur and swim. The light danced and teased her as she stood up, only to stumble over to her sock drawer. There, she uncovered her secret. That sharp secret that would’ve condemned her if anyone knew.

She stumbled back to her bed. Quotes and lyrics swam in her mind, her vision blurred and the room spun. She squeezed her eyes shit and fumbled with the clasp on the little silver box. In her muddled state, she vaguely realized that maybe she should’ve unlocked the box prior to taking the aspirin.

Suddenly it lay open and blood oozed from her outstretched palm. She grasped the razor tightly in her right hand and put the cool metal edge clumsily against the skin of her wrist. Blindly she felt for her pulse with two of her fingers. She had to do it right this time. She couldn’t fuck up again.

With a swift yank, she sliced clean through her skin. Bright red blood spurted out of the gash. Quickly, she switched the razor to her left hand and yanked it across her right wrist. Blood flowed freely, as if from a fountain.

Yet, it didn’t occur to her to be afraid. She felt strangely calm. She vaugely remembered being told to cut a “T” instead of a sling slice, just to “to the job right”. That thought quickly faded into the depths of her consciousness, and others fought to replace it. She felt clumsy and slow, as if she were underwater. Everything moved in slow motion and her breathing became shallow. This new sensation of burning in her lungs was a welcome addition to the pain she was already in.

She settled back on the bed and let the blood soak through the thick comforter. She felt at peace. She finally rid herself  of everything in this life. She was finally free. Her eyelids began to droop and she began to gasp in labored breaths, she thought she heard a voice. It just wasn’t possible. She couldn’t let herself believe that it was possible. She felt herself slip into blissful unconsciousness and resigned herself to what she knew was inevitable.

The door cracked open and he braced himself for the apology he knew he would have to make. Gasping in horror, he surveyed the scene before him. An inhuman cry escaped his lips as he ran to her broken body. Cradling her in his arms, he watched helplessly as her life slowly drained away.

He longed to call for help, but he knew it would be futile. She was almost gone. He placed a kiss on her icy lips, crying over their unnatural pallor. Tears streamed down his face and his heart broke as he realized that nothing would bring her back. She was already gone. In the deathly silence that followed, he longed to tell just one last time how much he loved her. If only he’d gotten there sooner…

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