The True Price Of Suicide - Sonia Ferguson (best inspirational books txt) 📗

~Keep holding on to the one you love. For, one day they will leave and you will leave and you will be lost.

You can cry, you can beg for them back, but they can't come back, cause they'er gone~

-Sonia Ferguson

Suicide, yeah I've thought about it and I've tried to. I failed. Somehow I knew the next time, some way some way some how, was gonna be different. All my friends call me psycho, but I don't think of them like that. In fact, I'm not psychotic, I have a disorder. I have PTSD, post stress disorder.

The phone rings. I rush to get it. Wait where is my damn phone anyway? It continues to ring. I look near the outlet because I thought it was on the charger. Nope. I suddenly realize it stopped ringing. It makes a beep telling me that I have a missed call. I see a light on my bed. I dig in the blankets. Ah ha, there it is.

 ONE MISSED CALL, it reads. Oh, well that's weird; I never get a call from Tiffany, my friend's mom. I dial her number and wait for her to answer.

"Ethen?" she says. "Um, oh my goodness,"

"Yeah," I say. "So um you called, whatcha need?"

"Ethen, I don't want you to have more stress on your shoulders, but you really need to get to the hospital. A. S. A. P." Tiffany demands.

"Why?" I say. "What happened? Oh crap, was it another stick in the gut?" I get my jacket on. I don't live far from the hospital just five minutes away.

"Shut the hell up," she says, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. "And no, it's not the stick again. He, well you should- on your way here- think of what you're gonna say. He's on life support, and they are gonna take him off in an hour." She takes a deep breath. "He..." she starts. "Well, suicide."

My body goes still and my eyes grow wide. No. Not him. I can't lose him now. No I'm not going to the hospital if he's gone, I'm gone too."I'm sorry, Tiff, but if he's gone I'm gone too." I say. "Goodbye."

I hang up the phone and hurry to my closet. I pull out a box full of razos. I pull up my sleeves then I decide to take the whole damn jacket off. I trace the scars on my wrists. I promised my girlfriend I wouldn't cut. "Sorry babe, the promise has been-" I slit my arm "-broken." I say aloud.

One cut. Two cuts, three, then four. Ouch, ah pain feels good. I continue to cut as I randomly stop. I'm really dizzy. I get my phone and I text my girlfriend: I love you. And I'll love you forever. Please know that, okay? I'll send you a letter from heaven. I'll send you a dream, as well.

I start again. Pain, I guess it hurts. Oh god. I suddenly fall to the ground. I need to cut harder. I get my knife out and cut really hard this time, and it hits bone, or what I think is bone. I pull the blade from my arm and blood squirts my face, some of it gets in my eyes. I see veins, blue and red. I go to the other wrist. I cut as hard as the other one and I feel something hard again. I start cutting and cutting and I stop counting at thirty. I fall to the ground. Blood spills from my veins to the floor. Everything goes blurry and I try to move but I can't move a muscle. Tears rush down my face.

And like that, everything is black.

I see a light and I chase it. What the hell? It's not a light, it's... my funeral. My two friends and my girlfriend- well I don't know, since I'm dead, if you count that as still dating- are there. They're crying, oh my goodness. No. I see, on my girlfriend's wrists, scabs and my name scratched on her wrist. The scene changes from the funeral to my room. I see my friend, Trevor. There are blood stains on the carpet; my phone is still where I left it. I look at the door and there is a sign that says, 'Memorial of Ethen Michael' and it has a picture of me at my birthday party two weeks ago with my girlfriend photobombing the picture.

My eyes suddenly are forced to look at my friend. Huh, that's weird. He takes his hoodie off, showing a lot of scars on one of his wrist, and not-so-old scabs on the other. He never told me that he cut. It's like I'm there but he can't see me. I am suddenly not able to move or blink. I don't know how but it's like my eye's zoomed in on his wrist. Something catches my eyes. I look at his arm. "Why is my name on his arm?" I yell; frustrated because of not knowing.

I reach out and then I realize I can't get to him. I am so close it feels so real but I know I can't. He starts talking.

"You told me to be strong," he says. A tear rolls down his face. He never cries. "You told me that nothing can bring me down! You promised me that you would never leave me! You promised me you would be there for me! You promised you were the one to turn to if something was wrong so I always did! What can't I do now? You're gone!" he cries. He screams as more tears roll down his face. "Why did you leave us? You were loved here, I could have helped you! Now there is no one to help me!" He breathes loudly and fast as he tries calming himself down. "I never got to tell you, I cut. I have been for about three months now."

"I'm so sorry," I say. My mouth is forced to close. Maybe I am a spirit; maybe I can try to stop him. I try to move but I freeze. No, no, no, no! I need to get stop him. I start breathing really fast until I realize there is nothing coming in or out. There is no real reason to breathe if I am dead.

He takes out a gun. "You have talked me out of suicide three times without even knowing it. Now you can't so I guess this is it. I will be with you soon." He smiles like a lunatic and a tear rolls down his face. "IF YOU DIE THEN I DIE WITH YOU!" he yells at the top of his lungs. He puts the gun to his temple, grabs a picture of me and a note then takes a deep breath. He fires the gun.

No! I need him, I think to myself. I feel the tension in my body release me. I go to grab him and, poof. He's gone. I see another light and I run to it. It's someone's house. Next to it is Trevor. I squat down to him; I tap his face then realize that there is a bullet in his head from where he shot. If he's dead, and I am too, why is he not moving? The cuts on my wrists have disappeared and I haven't even noticed. My body suddenly stands up and my eyes are forced to look.

All I see is a girl crying. She groans. I immediately know who it is. It's Kaylee, my girlfriend. I can't even recognize her, she is so much skinnier, her wrists have scars and her eyes are pouring.

She is holding a picture of me and her. It was when we first met, I am shoving chocolate in her mouth and she is laughing. Next to it is a picture of us kissing. A tear rolls her nose. She cries out. Trying to calm down, she takes deep breaths. She starts shaking and she rocks back and forth. She sighs. She goes to her closet, opens it, and grabs a box. Inside of the box is about 20 kinds of sharp things; knives, razors, arrows, glass, broken plastic, broken metal, etc.

No, I can't watch this. I close my eyes and they are forced open. She grabs a knife and put it to her arm. I run to her. Nothing happened, I wasn't forced to stop. I am so close to her, our noses almost touch. I look at her. She doesn't see me. She looks at her arm then puts the knife to it. I grab her arm and she looks to the star on her the wall of her bedroom. I gave that to her on her birthday. I had the other one in my room. We were going through a hard time we would look at it knowing that we were there for each other.

She takes the knife away from her arm and throws it at it. It hits the wall about a half an inch away from it. A tear rolls down my face. She takes another knife and throws it at the star for another try. It hits the star in the middle. More tears come. I can't take this. I love her. I left her. It hurts for just a second then I forget about it.

She puts the box of sharps things on her lap and takes another knife out and looks at her wrists. I put my hands on the knife. I look at her eyes, they look at the knife. She looks up, she can't see me. I look into her eyes. They are so blue, so deep, like the ocean. It feels like I can see into her soul. It was once so warm, filled with happiness; now it's so cold, filled with depression.

I love her with all my heart. And I left her there, to suffer. This isn't right.

She looks into my eyes; without knowing it. I move my hands down and hers go with she drops the knife into the box. She closes it the box, then grabs it. She looks at it for five seconds, thinking to herself. She lifts it up and throws it across the room. She sits there, shaking. I see her lips quiver. Her head falls to her hands; sobbing. I put my hand on her chin. She lifts her head up. I move my face next to her; so close, our noses are touching. I close my eyes, lean in and kiss her. I pull away-opening my eyes. She, and everything, else fades away. I try grasping onto everything that just happened.

I see another light. I stare at it for a little; afraid to go. I walk to it, wondering what it's gonna be this time.