Blood. There was blood everywhere.
Running down my veins, thick and oozing, spilling into the bathtub. This was it. Soon it will all be over.
I gently put my wrists into the warm water. It eases the pain ever so slightly but I can't stop hyperventilating. I lean my head up to face the ceiling. I try to steady my breathing and already I can feel myself going dizzy, slowly drifting in and out of consciousness. Is this what dying feels like? I didn't care anymore. I'm tired of people taking me for granted. Never again will I be used by guys who think it's funny to make me feel like an object that they can just play around with and take advantage of. I just want it all to stop. I couldn't take the pain, the guilt, the sadness, the ability to feel nothing. It wasn't a life. I lost my life line long ago.
I know what I'm doing is wrong. I'm leaving my parents to deal with the burden of a daughter who killed herself without an explanation. I'm leaving behind a box of tapes to tell everyone who made my life hell to think about what they did and suffer the hurt that I felt, even taking special measures to ensure that it gets to everyone. Again, I know it's not right, and people may think that it's unfair, but it's important that people know that everything affects everything, and if my story helps people to realise that, then I know that I've done the right thing. What happens after the tapes is not my problem, I won't be around to find out anyway.
And then there's Clay... I'm so sorry Clay. I'm leaving him to suffer along with everyone else on the tapes. It took me a long time to decide whether or not he even deserved to be on the tapes. He did nothing wrong. In fact, he was the only guy who I was fond of, maybe even fallen in love with. But he didn't deserve to be with someone like me, I would've done nothing but ruin him, and I needed to tell him. He had to be there if I was going to tell my story. I can't have him not knowing. I just hope that he doesn't hurt too much, and maybe he'll even do the right thing. He's a decent guy, one of the few out there who don't just look at you like a piece of meat. He made me feel human, I just wish I realized this sooner.
My vision goes fuzzy, and the room is beginning to turn white. My time is up. There's nothing I can do to change this now. I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, with a voice that sounds like my Mom, although I'm too jaded to respond, nor understand what she's saying. I hear the door open, but it sounds distant, as if it's miles away. I hear the footsteps of my Mom's feet make their way across the wet, bathroom floor. I feel my Mom's arms wrap themselves around my neck and the upper part of my back. The last thing I remember before everything went dark is my Mom screaming 'Oh, sweetheart. Call 911! Tell them to hurry!'.