So I got kinda depressed in Sociology today, then we had free writing in my College Writing class today, right after Sociology. So this is what I wrote.
"Hello," I answer iPhone, seeing a call from Julia, we just had an argument in our school parking lot. You never realize that you don't mean things until after you say them, or at least that seemed to be my problem.
"Eli," a voice sobs my name, it takes me a minute to realize that the voice belongs to Julia's mother.
"Yes," I ask, quickly checking my caller I.D. to make sure I read it right. I did, it reads: Julia.
"It's Julia, there was an accident, she was hit by a car while riding her bike home," she continues to sob. My heart feels like it has sunk form my chest to the pit of my stomach. I sit in my room nearly speechless.
"What?" I force the question that forms in my heart to exit my body. I hear a loud crash, it makes me jump a little. "Hello, hello?" I ask frantically into the thin air. There is a static-like sound, as if someone was running their hand over the speaker. Worry starts to take over me, almost making me feel sick.
"Eli, Julia didn't make it." her older brother of two years tells me in a monotone.
"You mean she didn't make it home, because she got hit, and she will be ok, right?" I ask he remains silent. "Right?" I scream into the phone.
"No," he whispers he says nothing else before he hangs up the phone, leaving me sitting here alone on my bed. I drop my phone onto the bed and push my finger through my hair, gripping my fingers tightly in the strands of hair. I scream, pulling my hands from my head. It isn't true they're lying to me. I get up and run to the kitchen grabbing my keys from the table and go to the door.
"I'm going out," I yell hot tears turning cold and dripping off my chin, and jaw line. I slam the thick wooden door shut before he can answer. I get into my hearse and pull away from the curb sharply. I drive at ten above the speed limit not caring. The hospital is a ten minute drive, yet it feels so much longer when you need to get there quickly. The parking lot is full of cars. I choose a spot and run too the door. I see her parents sitting in two ugly chairs. Her mother in folded into her father quaking with sobs. Paul, her brother, is staring right ahead, tears streaming.
That is when I know it is true. In a split second everything that meant anything to me in the world, is gone. I collapse to my knees on the floor, right in the entrance. A nurse runs to my side.
"Are you alright, do you need emergency care?" she rushes at my faster than my head will let me comprehend. I stand up and run out the door. She stares after me, I keep running to my car. I get in and peel out of the parking lot. I go home, my face stained with wet tears. I walk in and shut the door sliding down the back side of it. I see my dads head over the back of out couch, he sips something, what I assume to be a beer or maybe pop. I inhale several sharp breaths causing my chest to move up and down rapidly.
"What are you doing, son?" he asks me. I hit my head hard on the door, the pain almost is enjoyable. Just exerting my anger and depression.
"Julia's dead," I get up and walk out of the entranceway of my house.
I make my way back to my room and throw a strong punch to the trim around the outside of the door after shutting it. Julia is dead. I caused her to die, I don't deserve anything I have. I should be locked up, I am a monster. I kick my short, black, wire trash can. I dent it severely. Enraged with myself I grab a pen and write the work "Hate" on the inside of my forearm, pressing hard with the pen. I press hard enough that smalls pools of blood form here and there along the work. Rather that it being almost enjoyable, its become a painful pleasure. I squeeze my arm making the blood pool quicker, it runs slowly down the paleness towards my hand. Julia would hate me doing this. She is the reason I stopped a few months ago, that was then. This is now, now I have nothing to keep me from doing it. I bite my lip and trace the word over and over, harder and harder. More blood pools to the surface and it feels great exiting my thin body. I get off my floor and sit in the bathroom against the counter under the sink. Blood streams from my arm into my palm, following the lines in my hands before puddling there.
I let the emotional pain seep out with the blood, the physical pain slowly increasing. It causes more pleasure in my head than anything. The tears have slowed down enough that I can clearly see what I am doing to myself I continue to trace the swelled lines on my arm. The room on my palm is running low and soon enough it starts dripping from between my finger staining the white tiles on the bathroom floor. I look down at the ground, I see the blood and I can picture Julia all mess up covered in it. I sink the pen deeper into my skin. I bit hard on my lip from the pain and I can taste something metallic, blood.
I begin to feel dizzy, and realize the extent to my self harm. The blood loss is becoming too much to handle. I do it once more and feel even more dizzy, I lay on my side and wrap my right arm, my clean arm, around my stomach. I know what I have done, and I know it was planned. I breathe slowly and feel it getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open. I try to force them to but they just won't. The dizziness overcomes me and I black out.
So what do you think? I dunno about it...I just kinda felt like it sooooo yeah. Eh?