Chapter One: I tried to kill myself at least a dozen times, but nothing seemed to turn out right.

When people talk about death, you mostly hear about how much they dread it and how it's such a frightening concept. There are some that accept it because they have to, some that accept it as another cycle in life. Then you have those who don't accept it nor deny it because they refuse to think that far ahead. Of course, there are groups that sit on the fence, sometimes accepting and sometimes denying. After all those people, you get to the ones like me.

There is a side to every story, a different view in every argument. While you could have an attitude towards death like those mentioned above, I find it easier to think about it as the day you are set free of everything bothersome. All the stereotypes don't matter, all the expectations are no longer held over your head, all the people you don't like are out of your life forever. Rather, you're out of their lives. I embrace the possibility that I will one day hopefully very soon be able to no longer feel, no longer have to deal with all the bullshit. Death will be a great relief.

x

I had been awake for a good half-hour, but I refused to open my eyes. My mother sobbed quietly a few feet away, and the television blared about various news topics. There was a soft hum from a machine next to me; a simple, steady beeping accompanied the buzz. The rest of the building bustled and voices carried. If I kept my eyes shut, I wouldn't have to deal with anything yet.

How I could have failed yet again amazed me. I was so sure that this time was perfect, that this would be it. The uncomfortable hospital bed, its papery gown, and the IV in my hand proved me wrong.

"Mrs. Goldsworthy?" a man's voice said. I heard my mom sniffle and stand to address him.

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Dr. Reed. It looks like we got him just in time," Dr. Reed announced. My mother let out a huge breath, obviously happy. "Everything looks okay… his stomach is going to be a bit off and he'll probably feel pretty tired for a few days, but that's just what the procedure does."

"Oh… that's not a problem. He's had his stomach pumped before."

"That's another thing, Mrs. Goldsworthy… I'm a little concerned."

There was a short lull before my mother said, "Uhm… with what?"

"Well… this is the fourth time he's been to the hospital near death in the past nine months… is everything okay at home?"

"At home, yes," my mom spoke, her tone strictly professional now. "I'm not too sure what you're implying, Dr. Reed."

"Mrs. Goldsworthy, I assure that I am only asking for the boy's best interest, but… well, you don't accidentally swallow ten sleeping pills, or to take two xanax and down a bottle of Nyquil after, or tie a rope around your neck and hang it from the ceiling, and I'm pretty darn sure it's impossible to accidentally sit in the tub with your wrist bleeding. There is something dangerous going on, and it's extremely worrisome."

She took a short breath and said through what I knew were pursed lips, "Dr. Reed, I'm sorry, but I don't believe it's any of your business at this point in time. You treated him, he's fine."

"I think I'm going to send someone to come talk to you about getting him into some counseling."

"He's already seeing a psychiatrist. Hence the xanax."

"Fine," Dr. Reed sighed. "I'll come back to check on him when he's awake and then he can go home." His footsteps grew fainter as he put more and more distance between himself and the room.

I felt my mother's hand on my arm. She gingerly held my hand on my chest, little whimpers leaving her mouth. After listening to her cry for a few moments, I opened my eyes. She smiled down at me, tightening her grip around my fingers. I squeezed her hand back, pressing my lips in a line to acknowledge her smile. Her hand came up to my face to brush the hair out of my eyes and rest on my cheek. She whispered, "Hi, baby. You're finally up." I nodded. "You hungry? Want me to get you anything?"

"I just wanna go home," I told her.

"We have to wait until the doctor comes back, okay?" I rolled my eyes and pursed my lips. She inhaled sharply and slowly said, "Eli… Eli, we need to talk."

"I don't want to talk. I want to go home." She glared at me; I glared back.

"Elijah, this needs to stop."

"What needs to stop, mom? What?" She hated talking about my suicide attempts. I wanted to make her stop before she could get started like I could do with so many other things, but she grew resilient after the first couple times.

"You know what I'm talking about, Eli. Four times you've ended up in the hospital, thank God I caught you before it got serious the other few times. I don't know what else you want me to do. You're in therapy, you tried medication. I'm trying not to take away your freedom, but this is scary."

I clenched my jaw, shaking my head. "You don't understand, Mom."

"You think I don't understand what it's like to want to die, but I do. What I don't understand is why I'm giving you all these resources, yet you're still trying to kill yourself!"

"I don't want to fucking live, Mom! I have to walk around every fucking day without a purpose!"

"Eli, don't swear at me. Now, how do you not have a purpose? You have so much going for you!"

"I just don't, Mom, okay?"

"No, not okay. I won't stand for my baby boy trying to kill himself! What am I not giving you?"

"You don't fucking understand!" I raised my voice. She furrowed her brows.

"Then, make me understand, Eli!" Her volume matched mine.

"She's gone, Mom! She's gone, she's not coming back, and it's all my fault!" I shouted, tears filling my eyes. "You don't have to walk the halls at school and have everything remind you of her! You don't have people who used to be friends with you that hate you for what happened! You don't tell yourself every day that it should have been you on that bike instead!" Before I started crying like a pansy, I gathered myself again and blinked the tears away. My mom took a moment to calm herself down. When she spoke again, it was quietly and slowly.

"Eli… I understand that Julia was a big part of your life. It wasn't your fault. It was an accident, and that means it was nobody's fault." I looked away from her, choosing to stare at the sterile white wall instead. "Do you understand me?"

"Just forget it. I wanna go home." She sighed and took a seat in the chair next to the bed.

"Okay, you leave me no choice. I considered it before, but I had hoped that things would get better…" I looked at her confusedly. "You're not going to Bardell next year." My jaw went slack, my mouth gaping open. "If it's adding to the stress, I'm not going to let you spend another two years there. That's final." I closed my mouth.

"Fine. Whatever." My mother sighed and leaned back in her chair. I rolled over to face the wall opposite her.

I met Julia at Bardell. We shared so many days there, had so many moments. But there was nothing I could do about anything now. She was gone, and my mom had made a final decision.

Reader,

I have another bought of writer's block, so I'm not entirely happy with how I worded some of this. I'm happy with it in general, though, so I hope you'll forgive any awkwardly worded parts.

I've noticed a lot of fics that talk about Eli's past after he meets Clare. I wanted to put out a new take on and talk a little about his time before Clare. Tell me what you think. :)

Sincerely,

youronlyexception