In Your Head

In Your Head

written by dornish queen

Characters: left ambiguous

DO NOT READ UNTIL YOU HAVE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS; IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANYTHING IN THE WARNINGS, I STRONGLY ADVISE YOU NOT TO READ

Trigger Warnings:  attempted suicide, hospitals, doctors, behavioral facilities, blood, self-inflicted wounds, descriptions of injuries, knives

Notes:  freewriting session; one draft; no editing; no proofreading. No character models were used; no celebrity featured.  I was going to write in Pedro as the boyfriend, but with the topic being dark, I didn’t want to associate this with anyone specific.  So, characters are ambiguous.

LAST CHANCE; DO NOT READ IF YOU FIND ANY TOPICS IN THE WARNINGS UPSETTING!!!

You sat upright on the bed, the gritty taste of the charcoal still in the back of your throat, as the doctor worked on you.  Your wrist stung for a moment as he squirted something from a syringe onto your wound, and then the sting was gone.  How does one feel in a moment like this, it was completely new to you, but nothing to be proud of.  In fact, you felt like a complete failure in every sense, as you looked at the gaping wound on your wrist, it looked like an unzipped purse.  This was the stupidest thing you have ever done, so that was what you told yourself, as the first suture went in.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered to the doctor.  But all he did was sigh and grunt at you as he continued to stitch your wrist back up.  The look on the doctor’s face was of disgust.  Like he has better things to do than to patch up a nutcase like you.  You know, most of the people that come into the ER actually want to live.  The doctor didn’t say that, but you were sure he was thinking that.

You closed your eyes and tried to think of something else, but all you can picture is the knife swiping across your wrist and your flesh peeling open.  Curious there was no gush of blood like you had expected, but just an instant leaking onto the countertop.  Oh, it’s getting really red, and I’m making a fucking mess of things.  I really made a fucking mess of things now.  Shit!  Well that was a bad idea.  The thought was as simple as that.  There were no dramatic tears, just a simple feeling that you have really fucked up things now.

You stupid idiot!  You can’t even kill yourself right.  You fucking cut the wrong way.  Well these thoughts aren’t helping me, so shut the fuck up.

After you had filled out all the hospital papers the nurse handed to you, you started to put your clothes back on and asked the nurse if it was alright to go home.

“Oh no, we can’t let you go, dear,” She had a motherly tone to her voice.  You looked at the clock on the wall.  1:15 AM.

“What do you mean I can’t go home?” You asked completely perplexed.

“We’re going to have someone take you somewhere to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” She said kindly.

You fucking idiot!  This is what you get!  You didn’t think this through, did you?

By the time you arrived at Assisted Outpatient Treatment, it was already 3AM.  Your mind had quieted considerably and the gravity of the situation really started to sink in.  You jumped slightly as the door closed and you heard the lock click.  You were pleasantly surprised to see that you had a room with a cot.  Nothing too fancy, but it was clean. 

Everything seemed to pass by in a blink and you felt numb.  Numb to your surroundings and numb to the circumstances as to why you were there.

Just act normal.  You kept saying that over and over in your head and you’ll be able to go home.

When it came time for your evaluation, you gave the best performance of your life.  You’re not a danger to yourself!  Of course not.  You watched as the doctor looked at you closely and squibbed something in his clipboard.

“Okay, dear.  I don’t see any reason why we should keep you here longer.”  He said.  You breathed a sigh of relief as security gave you your personal belongings.  You called for a Lyft to pick you up to take you home.  Finally, I can just go back to my bed, sleep and put all this behind me.

“You look ready” the Doctor said.  You gave him a slight nod.  “We don’t want to see you back here a third time, okay?”

He smiled at you before walking away and into his office.

A third time?  You thought to yourself.  What the fuck is he talking about?  You’ve never been here before!  Or have you? Your ride came and you got in.  Mind distracted and numb.  A third time.  Was this my second time here?  Your stomach sank and felt something knot up in your chest.  Looking at the driver, you see your eyes in his rear-view mirror.  You look like shit, like a soulless creature.  Why aren’t you crying?  I should be crying, you would think?  But there is nothing.

You turned the key and walked in through your front door.  No one home.  You walk by the kitchen counter, completely ignoring the bloody mess you made the previous night.  You see the red ring all dry, with the kitchen knife right next to it.  My god!  Is that what I used?  Your eyes felt heavy and all you want to do is crawl away into the covers.  Just sleep.  If you wake fine, I guess so.  If you don’t…even better.  What the fuck kind of thoughts are these?  Just go to sleep and it was all be better.

Your thoughts are a blank and all you can do is stare at the curtains.  The sheets feel so cool against your body.  The sound of the door clicks and you hear him come in.  He’s home now and you’ll have some explaining to do.  Your failure hits home and you sink inwards.  You barely feel his arms wrap around your waist; his face nuzzles against the back of your neck.  His kisses tingle down your neck as he moves to roll you over to face him.  His face so serene as he traces his eyes along your body finally coming to stop at the bandage wrapping your wrist. His face drops into the most beautiful sadness you have ever seen.  You close your eyes, not wanting to look at the disappointment.  Because you know it in your gut it’s there.  You feel yourself being scooped up and enveloped into his chest.  He doesn’t make a noise.  Only rocks you in his arms.  Are those my tears or his?

“Again baby?”  his husky voice barely audible against your ear.

You felt yourself crack and finally was able to let go.

read part 2: Back to Life

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