New one-shot!
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Cutting, Suicide references
PSSSSHHHH!
I slashed the silver blade across my wrist, spraying a fresh spurt of blood all over my arm. Before I could stop myself, I cried out in pain as I pitched forward. Did I go too far this time? Blood dripped off my arm onto the carpet, immediately discoloring it.
The pain was almost too much to bear, but it felt good. I wanted more. It was sure as hell better than dealing with reality.
Even though I so desperately wanted to swipe the blade across my wrist one more time, I knew it could finish me off. I was losing blood rapidly, and if I didn't get help very soon, I would undoubtedly die.
But was that a bad thing? Did I really want to continue living in the charred remains of my world? My parents kicked me out, my boyfriend dumped me, I lost my job, and pretty much every bad thing that could possibly happen, happened. I started cutting as a way to numb the pain, and now I was paying the price. No situation was too much for me to handle.
Except Fang leaving. That was the last straw.
The lightheadedness was catching up to me. I started hyperventilating. I wasn't one to panic, but this qualified as an emergency. I had a decision to make, and not much time to make it.
Even nearly a full minute after I cut my wrist, it was still bleeding. Thin, red blood was trickling down my arm and onto the ground.
If I didn't make my decision now, my life would be the price I pay. After mulling it over for a good half-second, I made my choice.
I quickly took off my shirt and flattened it out. After painfully folding it into quarters, I wrapped it around my wrist and applied pressure.
I was getting more and more lightheaded by the second. I didn't have a hope of surviving unless I had help. But who would help me?
911? That wasn't an option. They'd put me into some mental rehabilitation program or something, and I'd never survive that.
My parents? They lived too far away to help me right now. My former friends and sister lived too far away as well.
That left one option. Fang. My now ex-boyfriend.
What are you thinking, Max? Fang will never help you. After all, he dumped you.
I couldn't call Fang. He'd probably laugh at me as I breathed my last.
But then again, he was the only shot I had.
Nah, it'd be better to die in peace than die while the one I thought I loved turned his back on me for the last time.
Sometimes you have to swallow your pride, Max.
That did it. I lunged for my phone and quickly scrolled through my contacts. When I reached Fang's name, I pressed Call.
RRRINNNGG! RRRINNNGG! RRRINNNGG! RRRINNNGG!
He didn't pick up. He probably didn't even remember me right now. Desperately, I tapped the call button again.
I held my breath as I listened to my phone ring. I doubted I had the strength to reach out one more time to call Fang, and there was no way I'd survive without his help.
RRRINNNGG! RRRINNNGG! RRRINNNGG!
"What is it, Max? You better have a good reason for calling me."
"Dying…blood…Fang," I choked out. I hoped he understood.
Fang gasped. "Max! Where are you?"
"I-I'm home."
"Be there in two." He hung up.
I collapsed on the ground, the pain finally catching up to me. I clutched my wrist tightly, finally realizing I was fighting a losing battle. I was stupid to make my third cut. My body was barely able to handle two on the hip last time, and even then I blacked out. This time, I might not be so lucky.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying in vain to block out the pain.
Suddenly, my door shot open.
"Max?" Fang said, gasping for breath. His eyes were wide as he quickly broke the latch on his first-aid kit. I tried to move towards him, but I felt myself slipping.
Just as Fang reached me, I slipped into unconsciousness.
How does it end? Use your imagination!