Mom looked at me angrily as I sat on the stairs that led up to my room. I kept my eyes set on her, although I didn't seem to really see her. She wasn't completely sure what to do, a panic raising in her as she stood there trying to figure out the next step. I had told mom about Paradyne a day or so before, hoping that maybe she would understand. But now that didn't seem like a likely choice.
The phone shook in her hand as she searched for the phone number of my counselor. It didn't make much of a difference to me whether she called or not because my whole body was numb to a point that I didn't care. My mind was thinking of Megan, of how I had been thrown back so easily, thrown to the ground to bleed silently. I had been crying, my back turned away from mom as she called the office.
Most of the afternoon was a blur, my mind too exhausted to really remember much. I nodded my head to mom a few times, ignoring most of what was happening. She was in a panic, screaming at me to start explaining things. I said a lot of random things, trying to please her so I could head up to my room to collapse and just ignore the pain that was coursing through my body and soul.
My doctor wasn't in, so mom had to give up, telling me that she would call her later. I stared at mom as she looked at the clock, realizing she still had to get dinner. She told me to get into the car, but I managed to get myself out of it, telling mom that I didn't feel like going anywhere. She looked at me with a worried expression, anger not really showing anymore. I assured her that I would be fine and headed up to my room to rest. She left a few moments later, letting my plan begin.
School had finally ended by the time she left and I called up Megan, almost hysterical again as she picked up the phone. A long conversation followed, mainly full of the same things we had talked about before at school. She seemed tired by how she spoke, obviously becoming irritated by my arguments. Tears welled in my eyes as it became painfully clear to me that nothing I said mattered anymore.
My feet dragged on the ground as I made my way down the stairs, Megan taking quickly into the phone trying to say that she still cared, but she couldn't deal with some of the stuff. I was barely hearing her anymore, my mind set on a specific goal at that moment. My hand was shaking as I reached down to pick up the Tylenol bottle. I kept my eyes on the red label while I took out as many pills as I could. I couldn't take all of them because of my mom's multiple sclerosis. I needed to leave her some.
I walked back up the stairs, Megan's voice small compared to the beating of my heart. I hung up after I had taken a few of the pills. Megan knew of what I was doing, but didn't know what to do so she just turned away from it. After I had taken all of the pills, I went to my room to type up my suicide note, deciding to leave it on the website of USM. Most of my friends were there, so I thought I should give a proper goodbye to the people I loved. I watched the comments for a moment, people begging me to go get help, but I didn't care anymore. I was happy to be dying.
I went to my bed to rest, wanting to go out of the world peacefully. What I hadn't planned on was someone from USM knowing my phone number in Utah. I forgot that I had met Katie, who was known as Corky on USM. I had given her the number to Kent's house so we could meet the summer before ninth grade. She saw the post and called Kent as soon as possible, telling him what I'd done.
I heard the garage door open, so I walked down to tell my parents I was sorry. They wouldn't know why I was sorry of course, but it would give me a feeling of closure nonetheless. As I got out to the garage, mom's phone rang. I thought nothing of it at the time, thinking I was going to get away with my suicide plan. She stopped while getting up, turning her eyes to me. She had a bewildered look on her face, a fear and anger building up. I just stared at her, not sure what was going on until she said thanks to Kent and hung up the phone.
I turned and went back inside, deciding now was a good time to hide myself until I was too close to death to be saved. Mom told Mark what had happened and I was pulled out to the car, kicking and screaming. Mom called the hospital, saying that they were bringing me in and that I had overdosed. Mom kept asking me how many pills I had taken, but I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to be saved. Mark started screaming, his anger and fear running away with him.
I gave in by the time we got to the hospital, laying down on one of the hospital beds and relaxing myself. My muscles had begun to tense up, my stomach having small explosion in it. My vision was getting blurry and I was lightheaded. I began to feel weak and saw the true seriousness of what I had done. I looked at mom and Mark, seeing the anger in their eyes. Mark asked me if I was in pain, and I stayed quiet, realizing he was saying it to prove a point. Tears burned my eyes as the doctor came back in with the glass of charcoal.
People in the emergency room stopped and stared at me as I was rolled by, the black charcoal around my mouth from having to drink it. I hadn't really wanted them to put a tube down my nose and throat to pump my stomach, so I gave in to the charcoal. My face was pale, tears staining my cheeks and making my eyes bloodred. An IV was firmly placed in my hand, letting out medicine to help save me.
Mark went with me up to my room, giving mom a chance to go get her wheelchair to come up. I stayed quiet as he stood and looked at me from the door. I didn't know what to say, so I kept my head away from him. The doctor came in at one point before Mom got up there and decided to wait for her. Once she was in the room and near Mark, the doctor came back in to explain what was going to happen.
I had gotten very close to damaging my liver. Had we been about ten minutes later, and it might have been too late. I was to be given Mucumus every four hours to keep me from going through liver failure. They would keep me on the IV until I was admitted to the psych ward up on the eighth floor. My parents left without saying too much else. They both hugged me, but I kept myself very closed up, not wanting affection and making it very clear.
I cried myself to sleep that night, trying to stay comfortable in the hospital bed. They had to redo my IV a few times because it fell out, the hand not being a very good place for that. I kept my mind thinking positive, trying to tell myself that I would go home the next day, no psych ward needed. But no prayer could stop the inevitable. How it changed my life:*curls up* not a good memory... i'm surprised i remember so much of it...
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