The doctor tells you that you were found mere hours after your "suicide attempt". The tone of her voice when she says the words are gentle but it still makes you look down. You haven't said a word since you've woken up the first time, so the doctor doesn't wait for you to respond as she continues.

Your mother found you in her bed, with the bottles of liquor surrounding you and an empty prescription bottle by your lap. You were slumped against the headboard, and you wondered what a sight you made as she found you. Was she horrified? Did she cry immediately or wait until the ambulance? Unfortunately the doctor went straight to the medical details, about how they had to stick a tube down your throat to pump out all the alcohol and pills. It explained why your throat and abdomen hurt so much.

Apparently your blood alcohol levels were dangerously high, mixed with the pills in your system you could've died.

The doctors, nurses, plus lots of morphine saved you though. You wish they didn't bother.

You wait until the doctor is gone and it's just you and your mother in the room. No one else had come to see you since your attempt at your own life, three days ago as of the current moment. Your mother's hand had been gripping yours progressively tighter and tighter as the doctor continued her explanation, and she still didn't let go of it as she turned to me.

"I was so scared."

You almost feel a little bad, seeing how true her statement was through her eyes. The thought of causing your mother pain still hurts you a bit despite everything. You wonder if this sudden clinginess is just compensating for not being there for you when you needed her, or if that seeing her child on a hospital bed finally made her realise. You doubt it's the latter. But as you look into her terrified eyes you begin to thing differently. Maybe your mother really does care about you. Maybe she really was torn up over you trying to rid yourself from this miserable world.

You don't regret it though.

You stare into her eyes and try to communicate silently. She doesn't get it though. No one does. Instead you squeeze her hand and hope that even she can understand that. You're trying to reassure her, the same way she hasn't while you were falling apart in front of her for months.

It's a little bitter, the twitch of your lips, but she mistakes it for a smile and smiles back.

She doesn't get that either.