I dug the knife deep into my throat and gasped. Oh, God, it HURT. It felt like every nerve of my flesh was on fire and the blood that rushed into my throat only served to inflame it further. I could feel myself choking, but I couldn’t stop yet. It was harder than I expected, dragging the knife across my neck, cutting through so much muscle and flesh. But I had to do it. It was the only option – perhaps, without me as an audience, without me to participate in this act, it would become meaningless.
I dropped to the floor, the blood filling my throat, spilling from it. Fuck, I couldn’t breathe. What would happen first, I wondered? Would I die from blood loss or would I suffocate?
My thoughts were momentarily interrupted by a BANG…
And then everything went dark.
I was beyond surprised to wake up in the hospital. Actually, I was pretty shocked that I had woken up at all. I was pretty sure that I’d dug that knife deep into my throat. Or had that all been a dream? I reached up and fingered the bandage around my neck gently. No, it had happened. Then, what…?
And then my parents were beside me. And they were shouting for the doctor and crying over me and it was so loud that I couldn’t hear anything. And Todd was there and why is Todd here what does he want? And Taylor, Taylor, Taylor…
“What happened to her?” I tried to ask, but no noise came out of my wounded throat. Another shock when Todd pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil. Handing it to me, he said, “You won’t be able to talk for a while, so you’ll have to use this.” He was giving me a strange look as I wrote out my question.
He stared at the pad a moment longer than it should have taken to read my message before he answered, “She’s dead. She… shot herself after you tried to kill yourself.”
I took the pad back. And the boy?
“She didn’t hurt him. He’s okay.”
How am I not dead?