—Third Wheel—
Summary: Sam thought that her life was as bad as it could have gotten, but she was wrong. Once she suddenly becomes the third wheel of her friend's newfound relationship, her feelings go out of control, and take a turn for the worse. Rated T for swearing, depression, and attempted suicide. One-sided Seddie. Rating subject to change.
Created By: The Color is Blinding
A/N: And this is it. How Sam attempted suicide. :) ENJOY... but not too much, because Sam's DYING! :(
Third Wheel
Part 2—
…You don't know why I'm here, Doctor Lewis.
I've been here for 64 days.
You've been here for only 20…
70 days earlier—
The streets were soaked.
Of course, it was raining.
This is Seattle.
Full of people.
A lot more important people than me.
I am expendable.
They already made that clear.
She's kicked me out of her house three times already.
And why?
Because I was disrupting their make-out sessions.
With my presence in the building.
Half the time I was in the studio, and they were downstairs. Or vice versa.
It's not as if I haven't seen them kiss before.
They do it every single day.
In front of me.
She knew I liked him.
So of course, being the bitch she is, she had to go out and take him for herself.
I hate her.
I wish she was dead.
But if she was, he wouldn't be happy.
He'd hate me.
And I could never bring him unhappiness.
So if she couldn't be dead, I could.
He could have her all to himself.
And he would be happy to be alone with her.
And she wouldn't have to worry about me stealing him.
—as if I could.
Who can compete with her?
She's pretty, curvy, "nice", "considerate", "funny"…
She's a slut.
Everything a guy would want.
And everything he would want.
I would easily trade my life in exchange for his happiness.
Because if he's happy, I'm happy.
And if me being dead means he's happy, my God I'll do it.
Just please.
Please don't let it hurt.
I don't want to be in pain.
So let it be fast, God.
Let me, please, leave this place as soon as I can.
Does suicide automatically send you to Hell?
Because if it does, thank you, God.
I'll be away from them, seeing as they're both perfect.
Perfect for each other.
The perfect couple.
Adorable.
Cute.
Mean to be together forever.
Everything I'm not.
The bottle is almost full.
I shake it, loving the sounds the pills make as they brush against each other.
Thank you, Mom, for just buying a new bottle of sleeping pills before the weekend.
And for leaving them at home when you were going to bring them to Vegas with you.
Thank you.
It's the first thing you've ever done right.
I hope you won't miss me as much.
You never were a good mother.
But you tried, I suppose.
The water sounds dull as it pours into my glass.
It bubbles to the top almost comfortingly.
I open the bottle, and pour its contents onto the counter.
My God.
There has to be at least one hundred.
One hundred little damned tickets to freedom.
The bottle says to take only one.
I will take one hundred.
I bring four up to my mouth and smile.
No one will miss me.
I'm not important.
No one has ever bothered to greet me these past few weeks.
No one even cares.
I throw the pills into my mouth
And swallow.
I grab more from the counter impulsively.
Swallow them.
Fear suddenly courses through me—
But I can't stop.
Swallow.
After swallow.
After damned swallow.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
My shaking hand feels the counter.
The bottle is knocked off of the counter.
The sole remaining pill is thrown to the floor.
I don't bother to pick them up.
Silence grips me.
Shock floods me.
Realization is coming slowly.
Dear God.
Please forgive me.
But I had to do this.
Everyone will be much happier now.
Everyone will be much better off now.
Please, God.
Please forgive me.
My knees give out on me.
It's not because of the pills yet—
It's because of fear.
I slide to the floor, and cry.
I'm dying.
My God, I'm dying.
Please, God.
Let them know that I did this for them.
Tell him I loved him.
Tell her I forgive her.
Tell my mom I'm sorry.
Tell everyone else that I'm happier now.
That I'm in a better place.
I loved them all.
They just didn't love me.