The Memory of Left Behind- Chapter 13
Miranda sat up in her bed, a cold sweat running down her face. She looked around her, and then down at her bandaged arms. Trying to remember what had happened Miranda closed her eyes. Nothing came to her. She tried desperately to remember, but it wasn't until she saw flowers next to her bed signed by Gordo she remembered. Shaking from head to toe Miranda tried to rack her brain for a reason. She came up blank.
Everything had happened so fast. All Miranda could remember was needing an escape, an escape from her problems. Miranda nodded; she still felt that way. The only thing that didn't make sense to Miranda was why she felt that way. Miranda was still trying to understand when a short woman with a nursing uniform on walked in to her room.
"Well it's good to see you're awake," the woman said.
"Awake? I'm just lucky I'm alive," Miranda scoffed mainly to herself.
The nurse looked down. "Patients in your condition, well, they normally don't like to talk about it."
"I'm just a condition," Miranda said shaking her head. She wasn't really angry with the nurse for calling her a condition. After all she was one; she was just like every other suicide victim.
"Oh hunny, I didn't mean it that way, I just meant…"
"Yeah, I know, it's okay. When can I get out of here?"
"Well, first you have to see a therapist and then he will decide if you are okay to release."
"Okay to release? What… Oh, I get it, you think I am some sick, depressed loser."
"Well, this is the Prozac nation. It isn't surprising it's very common, somewhat normal some say. And no one thinks that of you baby doll."
Miranda didn't know why but the nurse's words were somewhat comforting. She rolled over on her side and looked at the flowers by her bed. There were plenty of them, all wishing her well. Like she had come down with a bad case of the flu. Silent tears slipped down Miranda's face. The nurse was wrong; this wasn't normal. Miranda looked over at the nurse, she didn't know why, but she looked like the answer to all her problems. "Why did I do it," she asked the nurse.
The nurse looked over at her shocked and shook her head. "I don't know," she stared at Miranda blankly as if trying to figure it out herself.
"If you would have ever tried to kill yourself, why would you do it?"
"Well, I think the only thing that would push me that far was…" the nurse looked down and scrunched her nose. "The lack of hope. That's the only thing worth killing yourself over. Not one unpleasant incident in your life. Even if it is the worst thing that has ever happened to you. No… because the truth is shit happens. You just have to suck it up and get over it because it happens to everyone. Sure there will be bumpy patches in your life, but that's no reason to kill yourself. It may seem like an escape at the time, and it is…" She looked up as if remembering something painful. "I remember when I was younger I used to cut myself… I could never kill myself; I didn't have the guts. But… I thought about it, boy did I ever. Then one day something happened… my friend he… he killed himself," she shoved the words out as tears began to fall on her porcelain face. "I hadn't even noticed he was in such bad shape, I was to busy worrying about my own pain, that's how everyone is. You think no one cares, but it's just that they're too busy worrying about their own pain to notice yours… It was then that I realized why suicide wasn't an answer. I… Death, it isn't for the dead hunny, it's for the living. When someone dies, do they care? No, they can't, they're dead. But the people they leave behind do. They have to LIVE with it. The worst way to loose someone is by suicide because… Because you constantly wonder if you could have done something, if you could have changed it. You wonder over and over again if maybe you hadn't been so wrapped up in yourself if things would be different. And it never goes away. The pain eats at you…" The nurse stopped as her eyes glazed over. She looked like she was in a different world. But it wasn't a world anyone would want to be in; it was a world full of pain. A place where your pain screamed at you, agonizing screams that never went away. It leaked out and cried to you. You couldn't stop it, you could try, but it wouldn't go away… not ever. The nurse began to release deep, heart-wrenching sobs. Miranda reached over and embraced her. A warm peace came over her.
As she sat there comforting the nurse she made a decision. Never, never would she cause anyone to feel this pain. She just wanted to get rid of her pain, but she didn't want it to be a burden on the ones she loved. They were the only ones who had held her up for so long. Miranda nodded her head in conformation.
"Never," she said under her breath.
Author's Note: Okay, I hurried to write this. This chapter was partly for Pamela. I hope this explains why she did it a little… but you all will be revealed in the end. When you find out the memory of left behind. I know that makes everything more confusing, but it will all come together in the end. The other reason I wrote this story is because Friday night my friend said he had almost killed himself and was still contemplating why he shouldn't. I talked him out of it… but now I don't know what to do. If any one could offer any words of wisdom that would be great. But anyone who's thinking about committing suicide, don't. Sorry to bring this to a morbid subject, but I need a release. SO, anyway… more to come… soon.
Miranda sat up in her bed, a cold sweat running down her face. She looked around her, and then down at her bandaged arms. Trying to remember what had happened Miranda closed her eyes. Nothing came to her. She tried desperately to remember, but it wasn't until she saw flowers next to her bed signed by Gordo she remembered. Shaking from head to toe Miranda tried to rack her brain for a reason. She came up blank.
Everything had happened so fast. All Miranda could remember was needing an escape, an escape from her problems. Miranda nodded; she still felt that way. The only thing that didn't make sense to Miranda was why she felt that way. Miranda was still trying to understand when a short woman with a nursing uniform on walked in to her room.
"Well it's good to see you're awake," the woman said.
"Awake? I'm just lucky I'm alive," Miranda scoffed mainly to herself.
The nurse looked down. "Patients in your condition, well, they normally don't like to talk about it."
"I'm just a condition," Miranda said shaking her head. She wasn't really angry with the nurse for calling her a condition. After all she was one; she was just like every other suicide victim.
"Oh hunny, I didn't mean it that way, I just meant…"
"Yeah, I know, it's okay. When can I get out of here?"
"Well, first you have to see a therapist and then he will decide if you are okay to release."
"Okay to release? What… Oh, I get it, you think I am some sick, depressed loser."
"Well, this is the Prozac nation. It isn't surprising it's very common, somewhat normal some say. And no one thinks that of you baby doll."
Miranda didn't know why but the nurse's words were somewhat comforting. She rolled over on her side and looked at the flowers by her bed. There were plenty of them, all wishing her well. Like she had come down with a bad case of the flu. Silent tears slipped down Miranda's face. The nurse was wrong; this wasn't normal. Miranda looked over at the nurse, she didn't know why, but she looked like the answer to all her problems. "Why did I do it," she asked the nurse.
The nurse looked over at her shocked and shook her head. "I don't know," she stared at Miranda blankly as if trying to figure it out herself.
"If you would have ever tried to kill yourself, why would you do it?"
"Well, I think the only thing that would push me that far was…" the nurse looked down and scrunched her nose. "The lack of hope. That's the only thing worth killing yourself over. Not one unpleasant incident in your life. Even if it is the worst thing that has ever happened to you. No… because the truth is shit happens. You just have to suck it up and get over it because it happens to everyone. Sure there will be bumpy patches in your life, but that's no reason to kill yourself. It may seem like an escape at the time, and it is…" She looked up as if remembering something painful. "I remember when I was younger I used to cut myself… I could never kill myself; I didn't have the guts. But… I thought about it, boy did I ever. Then one day something happened… my friend he… he killed himself," she shoved the words out as tears began to fall on her porcelain face. "I hadn't even noticed he was in such bad shape, I was to busy worrying about my own pain, that's how everyone is. You think no one cares, but it's just that they're too busy worrying about their own pain to notice yours… It was then that I realized why suicide wasn't an answer. I… Death, it isn't for the dead hunny, it's for the living. When someone dies, do they care? No, they can't, they're dead. But the people they leave behind do. They have to LIVE with it. The worst way to loose someone is by suicide because… Because you constantly wonder if you could have done something, if you could have changed it. You wonder over and over again if maybe you hadn't been so wrapped up in yourself if things would be different. And it never goes away. The pain eats at you…" The nurse stopped as her eyes glazed over. She looked like she was in a different world. But it wasn't a world anyone would want to be in; it was a world full of pain. A place where your pain screamed at you, agonizing screams that never went away. It leaked out and cried to you. You couldn't stop it, you could try, but it wouldn't go away… not ever. The nurse began to release deep, heart-wrenching sobs. Miranda reached over and embraced her. A warm peace came over her.
As she sat there comforting the nurse she made a decision. Never, never would she cause anyone to feel this pain. She just wanted to get rid of her pain, but she didn't want it to be a burden on the ones she loved. They were the only ones who had held her up for so long. Miranda nodded her head in conformation.
"Never," she said under her breath.
Author's Note: Okay, I hurried to write this. This chapter was partly for Pamela. I hope this explains why she did it a little… but you all will be revealed in the end. When you find out the memory of left behind. I know that makes everything more confusing, but it will all come together in the end. The other reason I wrote this story is because Friday night my friend said he had almost killed himself and was still contemplating why he shouldn't. I talked him out of it… but now I don't know what to do. If any one could offer any words of wisdom that would be great. But anyone who's thinking about committing suicide, don't. Sorry to bring this to a morbid subject, but I need a release. SO, anyway… more to come… soon.