Just another day in a steady stream of days, she decided it would be her last. No trigger, no cause, no reason; she was just done. It wasn’t like she’d fought with someone or something had been said to her. No one and nothing was different than the past three months, and that was the worst part.
Standing up from her laptop, she walked over to her younger brother. He was on the family computer, eyes intent on the screen, on some game. She said nothing, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing the top of his head. He reached up, gripping her arm lightly but not voicing a word either.
Walking over to the bookcase, she picked up the razors there. They’d found them in her little brother’s room when cleaning it out, and they’d been put in the living room. While the blades still could have some practical use, it was a mutual fear that the others would use them to cut if they weren’t somewhere public.
Well, it was her fear, and considering that it was one of her brothers that put them somewhere public, she could only assume.
Picking up her laptop as well, she walked down the hall to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she knew what her brother would assume. She was just climbing in a tub. It was later than her usual routine, but he’d still leave her alone for hours.
God, she hoped he left her alone. She’d rather her father find her than her brother. She didn’t want him to have to witness this. He’d already been through so much recently.
Pressing play on the song she’d paused halfway through, she started typing. She typed faster than she wrote, and she knew she had to finish this before she died. She had to get her last few words out.
Briefly she smiled at the thought that she just loved getting the last word in too much to not type up her last few words.
To her best friend, she wrote a private e-mail, sending it and then deleting it from her sent box. There were words in the message no one should ever read, no one could ever know. She cleared her conscious more totally and honestly than she ever had before. Some part of her hoped that her dirty little secrets being shared like that would be enough to sever the bond between them.
To her older brother, she wrote a FaceBook message. There was a profuse and profound apology. Everything that she could remember, starting from when she was too little to remember them personally, she apologized for. The message seemed to beg for forgiveness for every wrong she’d ever committed against him and some things she hadn’t done to him, things she had done trying to do right by him but fucked up. Some of it was apologizing just for existing, and those were the apologies that begged forgiveness the most.
To her second closest friend, she just thanked her, just a simple ‘thank you, I love you’ sent to her phone.
To her father, she wrote the message on a note on her desktop. She wanted him to be the one to find her, and she wanted him to be the one to read the message left on her laptop. She apologized for that, for making him be the one, but explaining how she felt like there was no other way, and no one else she could burden with this. She told him how much she loved him, and how she had never wanted away from him. Even this, she wasn’t escaping him.
To her baby brother, she apologized as well. She apologized for her timing, for her weakness, for not being there for him, for giving up on him at times, for not being a good sister, and for not trying harder. She told him how amazing he was to her, and how high her expectations for him were, how much she saw him doing, and how he had to quit doing drugs if he wanted all the things he tried for. She knew, and she told him as much, that he would be able to get anything so long as he did work hard and save partying for after his work was done.
Finally, she wrote one last message, to her girlfriend. They hadn’t been together long, not in the grand scheme of things. It was just a few months, but they were some of the best she ever had. She didn’t write an apology or an explanation. She wrote one last love letter, one last message to remind her how beautiful she was, how talented she was, and how brilliant she was. She told her to aim for the stars and never quit trying, because whether she knew it or not, she’d always be cheering her on.
There were so many other people she thought to message, so many other apologies she wanted to give, and so many final words she wanted to speak. Some part of her wanted to explain to her aunt, to the woman that raised her, but she felt it would be an annoyance. She half thought to message her older cousin, just a warning since she knew it would upset the others. A few words for her mother ran through her head, and she did send those. It was just a short text that read [I hope if anyone blames themselves for this, it is you.]
Telling herself she was stalling, edging towards pussying out, she changed, putting on her tank top and sweat pants. Turning on the water, she climbed into the tub and settled with her back against the porcelain. As she brought the razor to her wrist, she heard her laptop ping with a reply from her girlfriend, but she just smiled as she put the blade beneath her skin.
Smooth, slow, she sliced from wrist to elbow. Back in, she repeated the cut, watching blood pour over, and she tried to cut deeper, just to make the blood flow faster. It still wasn’t fast enough. She wanted it to be neat, wanted the warm water to wash away the stains before they set in the tub, but that just wasn’t happening.
"Sorry," she whispered, not sure whether she was apologizing to her father or one of her brothers. She was just sorry for whoever had to clean up her mess. With that, she turned to face the walls of the tub and brought the razor up to her throat. She hoped that her system was drained enough to make it neat as she sliced over her jugular, blood surging out with each racing heartbeat, soaking her fingers even before she finished the cut. Clinging to the slick metal, she drug it from one artery to the next, opening it wide and letting herself free.
Before she faded, she felt cold and lightheaded, she couldn’t quite draw a full breath, and all she wanted was to sleep. Leaning her head forward against the cool tiles, she found they weren’t so cool anymore, and she smiled. When she let herself fall asleep, she knew there was no waking this time.
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Desa has been keeping me company all day. I felt like writing something with her. Between talking to Sabrina and writing, I feel better. Not much, but better. I don't want to go out neat though. I've cleaned up after these fuckers for years. They'll be scrapping my brains off the fucking ceiling when I go. xD