Suicide Note

Suicide Note


Michelle waited until the red glow of the Chevy's backlights faded completely. Her parents headed down the dark driveway and onto the deserted street. Carefully she pulled her dark curtains closed and turned on her bedroom light. From one of the pine drawers of her desk, she pulled a blank, white piece of paper and her favorite purple ink pen. Flopping onto her bed with tired thud, she pulled her thoughts together.

Dear Mom and Dad,
My life is an empty abyss with no purpose. I see no point in living. You probably think I have no reason to feel this way, but that's where you're wrong. You have never tried to understand me or my feelings, or ever want to try and help me. You don't understand me and never have. You simply don't care. Perhaps you'll change your minds.
Love,
Michelle

She wasn't exactly pleased with it, after she reread her note, but decided it would suffice. "Why go out with a bang anyway?" She thought to herself. "Why waste paper trying to get across a point that nobody cares about? My efforts are futile." She proclaimed to a small stuffed teddy bear, squished between the mattress and the frame of her bed. Getting up from her bed, she crossed the hall and entered the bathroom.
         She flicked the light switch on. Her eyes confused by the bright light adjusted from the darkness of the hallway. She started the bath, and allowed the steam to accumulate in the small room. The bathroom mirror had begun to steam up, and she got an idea. Dragging her index finger across the cold mirror, she wrote a message to her parents. Standing back with satisfaction, she switched on the fan and allowed the message to disappear like invisible ink. She knew the next person to use the bathroom, and forget to turn the fan on, would discover her hidden message.
         She traipsed back across the hall to her room. Searching through a shoebox, which resided behind her desk with the spiders and cobwebs, she found what she was looking for. Carefully pulling the shiny silver blades from the box gave her a feeling of power. She felt like an executioner from the middle ages. The only difference; she was ending her own life, not the life of another.
         She began to undress. Her dark clothes sank to the floor like settling ashes of a huge bonfire. Her naked body, bathed in the fluorescent light, glowed with an unknown secret that nobody would ever know. * She straightened her room, made her bed, folded her clothes and placed them on her desk chair.  She turned around at the doorway with her hand on the light switch. "Goodbye life." She staggered across the hall once more.
         In the bathroom, the claw foot tub quickly began to fill with steaming water. It was about halfway full and Michelle decided to get in. She stepped in and eased herself into a sitting position. "CRAP!" She exclaimed, as she remembered she had left the razor blades on her desk. She hastily stood up, sloshing water out of the tub onto the tiled floor.  Grabbing a fluffy yellow towel off the rack and wrapping it around her damp body, she ran back across the hall to her room. She snatched the razor blades and placed the note, which she had left on her bed, on her pile of clothes.
         She had grabbed the blades with such force, and pushed them into her palm, that a thin trickle of blood had begun to flow.  The blood escaped from the gash in her delicate skin, and collected in her cupped palm.  She carefully picked up the blades with her right index finger and thumb, and wrapped her wounded hand in the upper corner of the towel.           
         She sprinted back across the hall, to find that the bathtub was completely full, and overflowing. Gripping the knobs, she cut off the supply of water. She tossed the now somewhat bloodied towel onto the toilet and climbed into the tub once more. Yet again, she caused the water to flow over the sides of the tub, and onto the floor. "Who cares?" she thought to herself. "I'm not worried about it. I don't have to clean it up anyway. By the time anyone notices, I'll be a dead corpse." She sat in the warm water, staring up at the ceiling.
         Finally she mustered enough courage to follow through with her plan. She chose the sharpest blade, and dropped the rest to the floor. They fell with a sound similar to the unlocking of a padlock. She was finally free.
         Shutting her eyes, she slowly sliced the delicate skin of her left forearm. The cut began to sting and burn, as if sand had been rubbed in it. She opened her eyes to witness the crimson blood leak from the careful incision and drip into the tub water. Observing the blood droplets as they hit the water, she imagined them as little fireworks, in celebration of her liberation from a life of confinement. Soon, she began to feel weak and dizzy. Michelle continued to slice her left arm, wincing with every new cut. When the blood completely covered her arm, she plunged it under the water. The blood spread through the water like the ink of an octopus, released at a predator.
         She turned pale, becoming dizzier, and the world around her began to blur. She had lost a lot of blood. Her weakened body slowly sank further into the tainted water.
(Chapter 2?)
         Downstairs, someone banged on the door. "Michelle, let me in! I forgot my key! I know you're here. Mom and Dad said they left you home alone. Let me in!" Not being able to hold back his patience any longer, Josh, her older brother, stomped around to the back. To his surprise the back door was unlocked. "Thank goodness," he sighed as he slowly opened the backdoor. "MICHELLE! Earth to Michelle! You forgot to lock the backdoor! Didn't Mom and Dad warn you about locking up when you're home alone?!?!"
         She could care less, especially now, with her blood staining the porcelain tub, and her head nearly submerged in the murky water. "MICHELLE! Dude Michelle! What's your damage? Where are you?" Josh bellowed. He trudged through the dark dining room and into the kitchen. "MICHELLE! Where are you?!?!"
         He opened the fridge, illuminating the entire kitchen. He felt awkward. "What is she doing?" he thought. The house seemed huge with the creepy silence. It was too quiet. Usually Michelle would be blaring her music and dancing around. He couldn't hear her anywhere, and wondered if anything had happened to her.
         Well, she had left the doors unlocked, so maybe she left. Or, maybe someone got in. "Oh Sh#@!" he exclaimed. Josh ran blindly into the dark living room, towards the stairs. WHAM! He tripped over the footstool. "Ouch. That's gonna leave a bruise," he muttered. He continued to stumble in the dark, and eventually found the stairs. Proceeding up the stairs, he only tripped a couple times. At the landing, he could see the light from the bathroom eerily flooding into the darkened hall. It was the only light on the house. "Something's not quite right," Josh thought. "It's way too quiet."
"Michelle? Michelle? Are you in the bathroom?" he questioned. "Did you hear me come in?" No answer. "I'm coming in," he announced. "You better say something..." He slowly pushed the door farther open. His feet squished on the carpet at the threshold of the bathroom door. He looked down. The tub water had seeped across the floor and soaked everything in its path. He approached the tub. "HOLY SH#@! MICHELLE!" He could barely tell she was in the bathtub. The only indication was a little tuft of Michelle's dark hair peeking out of the murky bloodbath. Josh ran towards the tub and slipped on the thin sheet of standing water.
(Chapter 3?)
         Josh landed on the floor with a hollow thump. He stood up quickly to avoid getting soaked and cautiously walked to the edge of the tub.
"Holy crap! What has she done?" He gripped the edge of the porcelain tub to steady himself. Jamming his hand into his right front pocket, he pulled out his cell phone.
He flipped it open and dialed nine-one-one.
         "What is your emergency?" inquired a woman's voice on the other line.
"I think my sister is dying!" Josh yelled into the phone. "She's drowning in her own blood."
"What is your address?" The woman calmly asked.
� Oak Manor Drive. Please hurry."
"Thank you. An ambulance is on the way."
"Ok. Ok," he sobbed. Josh could barely breathe. "What should I do now?"
"Do your best to remain calm, and stay on the line. I will talk you through some procedures, until the paramedics arrive."
"Are you sure? My sister could be dying! I can't do anything to save her!" he screeched.
"Sir, calm down. We're doing the best we can. Personnel will be there soon," the woman continued.
"Well, what am I supposed to do?"
"If she is unable to breathe, reposition her so she can, but don't move her too much. She may have other injuries..." her voice trailed off.
The blaring of sirens out on the street distracted Josh. He reached over and gently tilted her head, so her face was out of the water. The sound of the ambulance doors shutting caught his attention. Shortly thereafter, he could hear banging on the front door. He dashed for the door and slipped again on the puddle that had formed on the tile floor. "Da#@ it!" He got up and ran down the hallway. Josh switched the light on, as he turned the sharp corner to descend the stairs and raced toward the front door.
He savagely turned the key in the lock, and yanked open the heavy oak door. The icy cold night air snuck in and made him shiver. Three bodies, silhouetted against the flashing blue and red lights, blocked the doorway. All three were wore identical blue uniforms and carried varying sorts of medical equipment. Josh turned on the porch light.
"Did you call in an emergency?" the heavyset paramedic asked.
"Uh. Yeah. It's my sister. She's upstairs." Josh replied.
The screaming siren had been shut off and the creepy silence once again returned to the neighborhood. "Follow me." Josh opened the door wider and led the way. As they headed for the stairs, he turned on another light. They made their way up the stairs, and headed down the hall to the bathroom.
(Chapter 4?)
         The tiny bathroom soon felt crowded. One EMT knelt by the tub, another perched on the toilet and the third squeezed in between them. Josh stood farther back, barely inside the door. The floor was covered in a lake of water. The EMTs didn't seem bothered, but Josh felt sick instantly. He leaned against the sink and gasped for air. Blinking his eyelids, he felt as if he could puke. "Why would she do this?" he thought to himself. He swayed back and forth, trying to regain his balance. "Why?"
         The paramedics had gotten to work immediately. Their equipment, now set on the floor, lay submerged in the quarter of an inch deep water. The female paramedic reached over the tub. She looked so small, her small frame dwarfed by the size of her male counterparts, and the size of the crowded bathroom. She had short blonde hair and a pretty face. She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and was now inspecting Michelle's arms. "Is she right handed or left handed?"
"Huh?" the question had caught Josh off guard. "Oh. I think she's right handed. Why?"
She reached across the tub and pulled Michelle's left arm from the water.
"Yep. We definitely have an attempted suicide here." The cuts on her forearm continued to bleed and the deep incisions stood out against her pastey white skin.
"Ugh!" Josh swallowed hard. "How could she do that to herself," he thought.
"She's still breathing," the woman was checking Michelle's pulse. "Hurry up guys. Let's get her out of here." The smaller of the two males jumped up and took off down the hall. He galloped down the stairs and thrust the door open.
"Hey gentlemen, can you give me a couple seconds?" The female paramedic asked politely. Josh and the big guy turned around and faced the open doorway. The woman plunged her arm into the bloody and searched for the plug. She found it and yanked. "Ploop!" The sound startled the guys. The bloody water began to drain with a deep gurgling sound. It was as if the drain was a thirsty vampire, drinking the blood of this young girl.
The paramedic scanned the room and spotting the yellow towel, stood up and grabbed it. She leaned into the tub and wrapped it around Michelle's cold, limp body. Her arms tucked by her sides, and her pale legs peeking out the bottom. "Hey kid!"
"Yeah," Josh realized she was talking to him.
"You got a blanket or something I can wrap her in?"
"Uh. Yeah. Sure." Josh exited and walked the short distance down the hall to the linen closet. He pulled open the door and thrust his hand into the dark closet, about mid shelf. He touched something fluffy and soft and pulled. The long fabric fell to the floor. He bundled up in his arms and went back to the bathroom. "Here," he handed it to the woman.
"Thanks." She sat Michelle up and wrapped her in the lavender fleece blanket. "Alright Bob. You think you can get her to the stairs?"
"Yeah. No problem." Josh took a step out the door again and the paramedics entered the hall. The big guy trudged down the hall and descended the stairs, with the female paramedic close behind. The smaller guy was waiting with a gurney at the foot of the stairs.
He gently laid Michelle on the gurney and they began to strap her in. She had lost a lot of blood and it had soaked through the lavender blanket. "Alright. Let's get moving," the woman commanded as she finished the last strap. The big guy gripped the end of the gurney where Michelle's head was, and the other two both grabbed opposite side handles. They pushed the wheeled contraption out the front door and raced down the sidewalk. The driver had jumped out of the driver's side and thrust open the back doors. The fluorescent light from the inside of the ambulance flooded onto the driveway. They pushed the bed on wheels into the brightly lit room and the metal legs of the gurney folded up on impact with the wide bumper.  The short guy and the female climbed in and began taking supplies from drawers. The woman grabbed a dark blue blanket and laid it over Michelle, leaving only her head and arms exposed.  She turned toward Josh, "We're taking her to Saint Mary's and she'll probably be in the ICU." In the meantime, the short guy had pulled a variety of medical supplies from a drawer and was prepping an IV. Josh stood staring. The guy swabbed the inside of Michelle's elbow and carefully inserted the long silver needle into the soft tissue. He gauzed and taped the needle in place and hung the bag on a nearby hook. The woman had grabbed an oxygen mask and placed it over Michelle's nose and mouth. " Hey kid. Would you shut the doors?"
"Uh. Sure." He grabbed the cold metal handles, slammed the doors shut and banged twice, like they do in the movies. The big guy slowly made his way to the passenger side of the cab and hoisted himself in. The other guy had already started the rig. The sudden flash of lights and the high pitch wail of the siren shattered the silence of the neighborhood and made Josh jump. A family across the street peeled back their curtains and peeked out onto the deserted street. Josh stood there, alone, shivering in the cold November evening as the ambulance sped off into the distance.
(Ch?)
He could still hear the screaming siren and figured they'd be on the main drag by now. Tears formed in his eyes as he thought about his sister and he stuffed his frozen fingers into the front pouch of his sweatshirt. He slowly made his way back to the house and gazed through wet eyes at the illuminated windows that stood out against the dark, black sky.  Only a couple stars shone in the cloudy atmosphere. Looking at the house, he thought it looked somewhat creepy. It resembled a haunted house around Halloween time, but not as decorated, or as scary. The front door hung open like a gaping mouth and it looked as if all of the life it had contained had just vanished. He crossed the threshold, shut the door and walked into the living room. Pfloomf. He sat on the cushy leather couch. Thoughts raced through his head. "Why would she do that? What was she thinking? What would've happened if I didn't come home? What are Mom and Dad gonna think? Oh crap! They don't even know." Josh stood up and sprinted into the kitchen. He pulled the phone from the receiver and listened for a dial tone. He punched the buttons and waited for one of his parents to pick up. It kept ringing. "Hi. Leslie Johnson can't come to the phone right now. Please leave me a message and I'll return your call."
"Oh crap. Just what I need," he sighed. He began to pace. Beep.  "Hi Mom. It's Josh. Please pick up. It's kind of urgent. Michelle tried to commit suicide. I called nine-one-one and the paramedics came. They're taking her to the hospital. I don't know what to do." He began to cry. Click. The recording had caught a little bit of his crying. He took a minute, and then dialed his dad's number. It rang forever and finally, "Hi, you've reached Rick Johnson. I'm busy at the moment, so please leave your name and number and I'll give you a call back."
"Awww. Cripes!" Beep. "Hey Dad. I'm sure you're with Mom, so you'll probably get the message. But, the thing is, Michelle tried to commit suicide. Everything is somewhat okay now. I called the paramedics and they took her to the hospital. Please call me back."