Chapter 2 - Refining Details

Tomorrow I was going to take my life

Yes, it was quite obvious now. I could hardly see another way to continue. I was never one for reexamining my decisions; once they were made, they were final, even if they were fatal. I remembered with a wince that the last time I had felt this kind of resigned resolve was when I'd decided to be with Edward, despite his danger. Again, this decision seemed solid, tenable, now that I'd considered everything. I mean it wasn't as if I could think of a future for myself. I hadn't –wouldn't apply to college. I had refused to leave this town – refused to give up my memory of Edward as indubitably as I had avoided encountering it.

What else could I do? Continue life, as a shadow of what I once was? No. The pain would end. The numbness would be over. And maybe, just maybe, if there was a heaven, I could be with him again one day. Yes. My life had been metaphorically over since he had left me; there was no purpose in delaying its physical termination. I would take my own life, the only question was how.

It was very strange contemplating bringing about my own demise. If anything had seemed abundant it was the various options for my death. In fact, my life had been in constant jeopardy for the past year or so. As Edward had said, my number was up the moment I met him… I cringed at the recollection.

But anyway, now that that particular danger had passed, and there were no other vampires, sadistic or friendly, around to aid me, I had to come up with another way to kill myself. I scoffed darkly. How rationally I could ponder my own suicide! It seemed like just another errand, like laundry or homework. But it was infinitely more urgent. Because more and more memories of my time with Edward were swimming around my head and I felt that soon my lungs would actually give out or my body would break into a million pieces from the agony – both of which seemed like painful ways to go. I'd much prefer something quick and timely.

I contemplated the various methods. I didn't think shooting myself was an option… I'd have to steal Charlie's gun, and then he'd probably blame himself for the entire thing… There were no buildings high enough to jump off of in Forks… and I also knew I didn't want everyone to see me, lying there in a gory mess, like some type of bloody spectacle...

Blood. The word resonated within me. Blood. That was the reason why everything had happened to me, wasn't it? My too appealing, cursed, God-forsaken blood. Edward's personal brand of heroine. A painful attraction for every vampire, including the Cullens. The fluid that marked me as a piece of human prey rather than an equal to his kind. The reason he had left me... My stupid, stupid blood!

Suddenly I was struck by an image of the vile red liquid pouring out from my sliced wrists, flowing in graceful arcs from my severed veins. It was grotesquely poetic. Peculiarly fitting. But of course, I realized. My blood had caused me so much suffering; it was only fair that it should be drained from me in the end. It was ironic. The one thing Edward had always valued so dearly, that he had resisted taking from me, no matter the cost – and I was giving it away freely. I was throwing it away, actually. Deliberately, maybe even as vengeance. I wanted my blood gone from me. I supposed slitting my wrists should do the job.

I noticed, even as I visualized it, that it fit, but it was so… dramatic. Who would find me? And where, I wondered. I didn't want to do it in Charlie's house. It made me sick to think of him opening my bedroom door only to find my remnants. For a spit second I thought of the Cullens' home. But it was also a bad idea. If the Cullens ever returned – even 100 years from now, they would know what had happened. They might think I blamed them, when the truth was I didn't even blame Edward. I only blamed myself. I blamed myself for being too weak, for being blind to reality. I blamed myself for ever imagining that Edward and I had a future, and I blamed myself for being too frail to even cope with my mistakes now. I wasn't a complete idiot. I knew suicide was a cowardly choice – I just couldn't think of another way to handle it. I was utterly and irrevocably hooked on Edward, and since he was gone I was doomed to a very dark existence. An existence that I was, as of a few minutes ago, unwilling to continue to subject myself any longer.

Oh, how did this happen to me? How did I not see the truth for so long? I couldn't even regret it, though. My time with the Cullens was the very best part of my life – the climax, I supposed. The summit of the mountain from which I was currently falling.

Yes, I was falling. It felt like I had been falling off an eternal cliff even since he had left me that day in the woods. But now I was sure that soon I was going to reach the bottom.

The woods! Yes, why hadn't I realized that the woods were the perfect spot for my undoing. It was there, in that dense little patch of forest outside my home that my life had changed irreversibly, not once, but two separate times. It was in that same spot that I had both decided that I loved Edward regardless of his nature, and later recognized that he had not- could not love me in that same manner. It was the place I had resolved to be with him and the place where he had resolved not to be with me. Obviously, the location had a powerful significance for me. It was the locale of the two most important realizations of my life. It was an appropriate place to make the third.

Three decisions...Three irrevocable decisions… each revolving around Edward… each containing an epiphany of my personal weakness. Fitting.

I was astonished with the way all the pieces of my death were molding together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle. Perhaps there was hope for me still. Perhaps my suicide was ordained by fate. Perhaps I would find comfort in dying and everything work out as seamlessly as my plans had thus far…

Yet what about the pain? I shuddered. I had always been able to deal sufficiently with physical pain, but I was not inherently masochistic. Would I have nothing to anesthetize the suffering? My death was not going to be quick and painless because of the method I chose. But even more frightening was the emotional pain I was bound to experience… the regret, the love…

I trembled with fear. No, there simply had to be another way. There had to be a means of numbing myself, at least temporarily…

Drugs.

My conscience seemed to whisper the word hoarsely in my ear.

Drugs.

I had never even contemplated illegal narcotics before. It was strange that even as I was preparing to die, something inside me flinched at the notion. It was against my very principles. I had qualms about taking liberal doses of cough syrup! Taking drugs to ease my suicide was… It was immoral. It was outrageous. It was… not a bad idea, I rationalized to myself.

Drugs, alcohol… these things were bad, aside from the health detriments, because they impaired your judgment, because they allowed your inhibitions to disappear and your scruples to fade into oblivion. Illegal substances were foolish because they induced foolish choices. However, my choice was already made. I was going to die, regardless. Drugs would simply assist me in the process… Drugs would desensitize me, allow me to end my life much more peaceably. Yes, I was beginning to like the idea more and more.

I had a rough idea of where to find the dealers nearby… I had seen the shady street corners by the edge of Port Angeles. I knew of the high-school dropouts who lingered there after sundown. I had my money, saved up pathetically towards a goal I'd never reach. I had my truck…

I could go right now...

Author's note: So what do you think, would you like me to keep going or not? I'm not sure if it's worth it... let me know. Thanks!