I bit back tears. I remembered all of it now. I didn't want to, but I did. The pain came flaming up inside my empty chest, burning me apart from the inside out. I clutched myself in agony. Why did I wake up? 14 amitryptaline pills was more than enough to kill anyone, so why was I still breathing? I was a failure, even at something that shouldn't be failed; I had survived my own suicide attempt. I closed my eyes and watched the word 'failure' burn itself on my eyelids. I should have been grateful that I was alive, but I wasn't. I was pissed. I didn't want to be alive. I didn't want to feel this searing pain; I didn't want to continue fucking up my life. I had no reason to be alive and with so many people in this world fighting for their lives, I couldn't understand I was allowed to live.
"Why, why, WHY good Lord did you spare me?!" I screamed.
I slid my phone across the floor and checked it. 'May 31, 2011,' it blinked at me. I had been asleep for 2 days! Who even sleeps that long?
"Someone who is supposed to be dead," I whispered angrily.
I looked back at my phone and noticed the light blinking. I had one text message; just one. Awesome. I disappear for 48 hours and only one person notices. Absolutely fucking awesome. I sighed and opened the text message, quickly wishing I wouldn't have.
'Tiffany, I'm sorry.' From Mark. Of fucking course. He wasn't really sorry; I was at least coherent enough to know that. I wanted to believe he was, but deep down I knew better. The text should have read: 'Tiffany, I feel guilty. Accept my fake apology so I can absolve myself of this guilt.'
"Fuck you!" I spat and tossed my phone across the room.
I sat up, at a loss for anything. What was I supposed to do now? What does one do when they have failed to end their own life? I'm 1,000 miles away from everyone I know. I know absolutely no one, except him, in this shit hole of a town. So what now?
"You will go to work, you will go to school, and you will go on like nothing happened," I chanted to myself as I walked into my kitchen.
This was going to be my life mantra from now on. Clearly, no one cared enough anyway as they didn't even check on me after not hearing from me in 48 hours, so what was the point in even discussing my pain. Besides, it would be less difficult to manage hidden deep down within my depths.
The shiny silver blade from two days ago was smiling up at me from my sink. I grabbed it and placed it against my already scarred and puckered flesh.
"You will pretend to be okay," I whispered to myself as I slid the blade across my skin and watched as the blood released my pain.