suicidal

A Story by Julia

a girl and her desperate need for her rope

I first found the rope in a cheap shop when looking for craft stuff with my mother. It was just sitting there, longer than my whole body it was. I ran my finger up and down its rough bumpy surface, the scratchy material felt like it was calling my name. Back then I didn’t know what that meant; now I do. The life of being depressed is a bad one. I walk around school covering my arms in a large jumper, and covering my legs in long pants; even in summer. No one realises the pain I’m in. no one realises the pain I cause. No one sees my scars, no one notices me thinning, no one notices the bags under my eyes. But why would they? They have their own problems, their own life. I have no real friends, I’ve lost them all. I have no fake tears, yet people think they are just for attention. I know howi my friends are operating; they only come around when they know that I know that I need it. My family are the only people that bring out my demon; like a pill they make me righteous, like I can rise above it all, like pills they leave me lifeless, shaking in a bathroom stall. I feel like they cut out my heart and leave me bleeding. One day in my room, while reading the final book in the hunger games series, ‘mocking jay’, is when I remembered the rope, calling my name like it was my destiny; maybe it was. The music blaring and screaming in my room so no one could hear me cry is the only thing that stopped me from realising this earlier. In the book Katniss sings a song called ‘the hanging tree’ the song reminded me of my rope. I hope it’s still there, I hope I can still use it.

I was driving from the cheap shop, the rope in my bag when people first realised I was suicidal, that I was cutting, that I was starving myself. And it’s not because I told them, and it’s not because I died. I was listening to my music in my car, feeling the steady beat of the car hitting rocks and bumps in the road. That’s when the red car sped in front of me. CRASH. I blacked out.

My eyes slowly opened and shut trying to clear my vision. I only see white on a tiled roof, my head is bandaged and my leg is hanging from a sling. I realise my neck is in a brace and my whole body is immobile. My mother walks in, I can tell from the steady tapping of her favourite heals along the floor, and the rustling of her hideous purse that’s covered from top to bottom in pins. “Darling why didn’t you tell me you were depressed and cutting” she said. I didn’t know how to respond, or if I could talk, so I just let a single tear run down my face…