One Part Tea, Two Parts Despair
"Closing your eyes to disappear,
You pray your dreams will leave you here.
But still you wake and know the truth:
No one's there."
-Evanescence, "My Last Breath"
What a mess.
I allow myself a shaky breath and run a hand through my long curls. The bracelets that decorate my wrist clack together in pretty clinking noises and I let the air escape from my quivering lips. That sound always relaxed me. So did the smell of the herbal tea and scented candles, which I usually keep tucked safely behind my bookshelf for emergencies such as this. I'd gone through almost my entire stock in this past week alone.
I stood before the mirror earlier and made myself up; cleaned up the ragged mess I've been to try to bring myself together. But it didn't work.
The empty mug sitting beside my futon taunts me. No turning back now.
I blow the candles out and leave the dorm. Tuesday – what would, under normal circumstances, be just another day of classes and rushing about. But nothing about today is normal.
Wait…
A sob chokes me momentarily as I doubt my decision. Had I made a horrible mistake? What about my family back home? Will they think they've done an awful job of raising me? Will they blame it on themselves, or -
No. Up go the walls.
I press forward as if it's just another day. But this time, it's happened. Just like I knew it would. I've lost myself completely; my mind has officially finished what it started just over a week ago on that horrid visit back home.
Another empty day, passing by. This one with a definite end.
I open my eyes to my surroundings for the first time since leaving my room. I'm situated in the hard seat of a lecture hall. A laptop sits in front of me; the notes on the screen seem to have composed themselves, but the lingering feeling of the keys on my fingers tells me otherwise.
I'm seated high up. The open aisle beside me slopes down, as does the rest of the room, revolving around the professor at the bottom. The height is getting to me. I'm leaning forward now; the blinking cursor on the screen taunting me, daring me to keep my balance. I grope the surface in front of me, almost knocking my laptop over and drawing attention from a few around me.
Get a hold of yourself.
I sit down, temporarily shaking away the dizziness. My fingers find their way back to the laptop and continue to type, automatically copying the professor's speech word-for-word without error. I hear nothing. I feel nothing. A separate part of me is doing the typing, a part of me I have no control over.
Everything will be okay. My decision must have been the reason he did what he did, and I accept that. I just hope he can forgive me…
I'll get my answer soon. He'll tell me himself.
Several heads are turned to me now. Maybe it's my uncontrollable swaying or my contorted, pained expression. Or maybe it's the way I'm grasping my stomach. Whichever it may be, my classmates look concerned and mostly frightened. The professor is no longer speaking. My mind can't help but return to a few hours prior, when a bottle of slow-acting poison I managed to get a hold of had accidentally tipped into my tea with a heavy hand.
A few minutes or maybe even hours later, I feel the cool, gritty floor of the hall against my flushed cheek.
"My God, is she okay?"
"Prof, come here!"
A pair of hands clasps my shoulders, dragging my rag doll body off the ground. I whimper in pain at the sharp, cramping pains in my abdomen. I gasp for air as my breathing shortens, quickens. Two other hands support my back as the first pair cups and taps my face.
"I'll miss you," I croaked. Tears brimmed my eyes as my mother gave an impatient honk in the car behind me.
"Please, don't make this harder on me than it already is."
"Are you going to be okay here?"
I snap my eyes shut. My torturous mind won't let me rest yet. Oh, no. It's going to make sure I go out with the most vivid, painful memories.
"Yeah, baby, just go. I don't want to hold you back."
Air…
"I'll visit often, you know. I'm not gone forever or anything."
…
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
I need air!
Tears begin spilling down my cheeks. I claw desperately at the person trying to help me. I try to tell him if he really wants to help me, he'd chase the memories away.
Jason…
"Sarah…"
No…
"Sarah, Jason is dead…"
No!
"He killed himself, hung himself in his basement Friday morning."
I choke and sputter, throwing up some of the tea and a mushy mold of half-digested crackers - all I've graced my stomach with in the past week. My abused body heaves in an attempt to expel the poison. I grit my teeth and swallow it back, gagging once more, all the while trying to breathe around the cramping pain.
"It had nothing to do with you. He was just having a really rough time…"
Please, stop…
"He stopped going to therapy. Stopped taking his pills. We have no idea what the final blow was for him. We thought… he was going to be okay…"
Why…
Why are you gone?
I choke once more; my eyes begin to burn and my thoughts become fragmented from lack of oxygen. Trust me to pick the most painful way out.
"It had nothing to do with you…"
Everything to do with me.
"Don't blame it on yourself; he wouldn't want it that way."
How can I not?
"Just try to move on..."
I can't… I can't…
I try feebly to shake my head. No one notices. The whimper that escapes my lips sounds like a faint gust of air.
"Don't do anything he wouldn't want you to do."
I can't promise that. I never could.
"He loved you very much."
I know, I know. Please, stop…
"There was a note…"
Oh, no. Please, no!
My body spasms at the oncoming torture. I think I may have hit someone… the blood dripping down on my forehead isn't mine. I can vaguely make out someone holding her nose, her face twisted in pain. My wry laugh chokes and vanishes the moment it meets my lips. Try feeling real pain…
"I don't know if you want to read it, but – "
I'm barely aware as my body jerks once more, involuntarily this time. The pain doubles, the burning increases. I can barely see now. In comparison, it only tickles as my fingernails screech and snap against the hard floor.
"Somebody help us!"
"Call nine-one-one!"
The voices around me are muffled, drowned out by my oppressive, sadistic, punishing mind. It's trying to bring out his voice. That deep voice that once whispered undying love for me grows and grows until it overrides the surrounding chaos; until the frantic shouts of the students and professor are mere echoes.
I can just barely twist my lips up in a sick smile. So much for undying.
"Dear Sarah,
"I'm sorry. I know I always promised you'd never have to worry about this –"
"They're here! Get out of the way!"
"But things haven't changed a bit here. I guess I shouldn't have pretended I was so happy –"
My eyes flutter open. Everything's blurry – I can just make out the torn remnants of my clothes. I rip at them repeatedly, trying to tear the burning sensation from my body with pitiful, weak jerks of my limbs. I try to beg for someone to make it stop. They don't hear me. I don't hear me.
"It probably made this much harder for you; I'm sure you didn't see it coming."
Make it stop…
"There isn't much I can say…"
Make it stop!
"We're losing her!"
"Except..."
No, don't finish it…
"If you love me…"
I try to block out his voice, cover my ears, but my hands won't move. It feels as if I never had bones, at all. As if gravity held a personal grudge against me.
"She's going…"
The voices are even further now, except for his. His is strong… it always was.
"You won't do this to yourself, too."
I'm sorry.
The commotion around me quiets, stills.
Silence.
"And …"
Through the consuming darkness, the note appears before me. I can see the teary blotches that once burned holes through me among the last few words. I sigh as the burning relieves me of its fiery grip, and I'm ready.
Don't cry, love. I'm coming. I know I promised I wouldn't be, but I am.
"I love you."
I no longer see the note; he alone stands before me. Tears brim his eyes – he is the same immaculate being, only tainted by a deep red impression that winds itself around his neck. His lips turn into that familiar perfect, crooked, yet somehow empty smile.
Baby… darling, is that you?
I reach for him; my limbs are now light as air. But I feel nothing.
He disappears.
No!
"I really do…" His voice is a whisper in my ear now, reciting the words that have abused me endlessly this past week.
This must be it. I'm in hell…
I resign and let myself collapse, though I don't feel anything. I had always expected this to be fire and brimstone, labor and broken bones. Mutual torture for all eternity.
But my own personal torture?
I weave my fingers through my hair, clutching at the roots and yanking. No pain. Nothing to distract me.
Please, don't finish the letter…
"Forever yours,
Jason."