Suicide Romance
I can’t hold onto myself, I’m falling apart at the seams. Not only does everyone wonder what’s wrong with me, I’m wondering too. That’s when I remembered that night. It was the last time I saw him, he didn’t die, he just left. That was a month ago. Since then I’ve attempted suicide three times. Each time, just before I picked up the knife or jumped or swallowed a pill, he’d be there. I saw his reflection in the mirror, in the blade, in the black water, but he was never standing behind me. I can’t forgive myself, and I knew what was so wrong with me then. I was a prisoner in the darkness of my own mind, too afraid to come out after the lock was broken.
After I found him, I let go of my past and the prisoner was free. But once he was mine, she receeded back into the dark corner. I remembered his sweet whispers of ‘I love you’. I’d hear him say it every time I attempted suicide. The last thing I said to him was, “Come to bed, don’t make me sleep alone.” I don’t mean to sound cold, but he hadn’t drunken enough that he could say he loved me, I knew he didn’t really love me. He only wanted my body but I wouldn’t give it up. {{At least that’s what I’d thought.}}
He must have gotten bored with me, because you can’t talk to someone who doesn’t exist outside of her own mind. That night he said to me, “You can’t hide how empty you are so go find someone who’ll actually care.” That was it, he just left me there. I didn’t start crying until his car pulled out of the driveway. I felt so lonely, so angry and so afraid. The sorrow wouldn’t let go of me, instead it pulled me deeper into the dark crevices of my mind. I sat in the corner, one of his old coats wrapped around me and cut my arms. After crying myself to sleep five nights in a row I decided to end it, but before I could pick up the knife, I saw his reflection and heard his voice. I backed away thinking that I must be going crazy.
After so much crying I had the worst headache. I took some benedryl and it wore off after a few days. But I couldn’t stop myself from having two or three a day. I was hooked by then and had started taking other medications. My new found addiction to pills was strangely comforting when one day I decided to take a lot more than that. I’d figured that fifteen would do it for me. Before I could open the cabinet his face appeared in the mirror and I heard his whisper. Frozen in my place, I decided not to take any more pills. When I woke up the next morning, I’d forgotten about my decision. It didn’t matter though because someone had taken everything from the cabinet and storage closet. I wondered who or what had been in my house, but that was easily put aside.
It had been two weeks since he left and I felt like dying. The only thing keeping me from doing so was that every time I thought about it I saw him. His reflection would be in whatever I was staring at. It was like he was there, I could even feel his breath when he whispered in my ear. Of course, he couldn’t really be there, could he? After the third week I’d developed a theory: Obviously if it was him he really did love me and tried to protect to me.
Of course I was going to test this theory. I’d trick myself into wanting to die and see if I’m able to do it. Last night, I stood on the edge of my third floor balcony. I climbed onto the railing and looked down. There was his reflection, staring at me from surface of water. I fell forwards one inch and stopped. Something, or rather someone had me by wrist. The next thing I knew, my face was in his chest and he was whispering to me. He told me how sorry he was and how much he loved me. I wanted to believe so badly it almost hurt.
You know how the truth is supposed to set you free and everything, well it doesn’t. I wasn’t prepared for this truth, especially when I’d always thought it was a fantasy. He was vampire. I’ve never seen him drink blood never, but it was true, he was one of them. The few that are left. I told him to turn, me make me one of them. He said no, he loved me too much.
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