General Fiction posted March 19, 2017 Chapters: 2 3 -4- 


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Running away from the pain.

A chapter in the book Obsessed

Running

by Laidy



Run, run, run!

My mind kept telling me to run away. Race back to the comfort of my little empty apartment through the dark, wet city. Of course, I couldn't. Mr. Johnston wouldn’t let me leave without first leaving a voicemail for Dr. Thornburg. As if I was really going to talk to him. Little did he know that it was my house number I’d dialed. There was no way I’d be talking to anyone else about this. I was done. Mr. Johnston said he understood me, but he didn’t. No one did.

Leaving his office, I could breathe again. The stuffiness could have suffocated me and then I wouldn’t have to contemplate my own suicide. If only.  But here I am, thinking about ending it all. The pain… The loneliness… It’s just too much for me. I’m not the strong one. I was never the strong one. Darryn was.

When I entered my apartment, the pungent smell of old laundry and garbage reached my nose. You really let yourself go. How could you? Weren’t you such a neat freak? What would Darryn think? I roll my eyes. He’s not even here. Why would I ask myself that?

I hadn’t done laundry since the day before finding Darryn with his wrists slit. It’s not like I needed to do it. I hadn’t showered in about a week either and I wasn’t planning on showering today either. I just didn’t feel like it. I spot the many bottles of pain pills and sleeping pills on my kitchen counter. Then again, I’d have to run a bath if I wanted to ease into a nice warm slumber of pills while I bleed out. No doubt about it.  

I walked into the bathroom and plugged the drain, turned on the faucet to almost scalding and sat on the edge as the water began to fill the tub. It’s not an ugly place to slip away. Quite beautiful.

The tiles around the garden tub were a warm mosaic pattern of Yellow, Lily and White making the room bright and clean looking. This was the one room I kept top notch. Well, I did.

Darryn loved the hand shower we picked up from The Home Depot. It was a great attachment and easy to install. He personalized it so it was removable and we’d store it under the drawer-step that allowed me to enter the tub without hopping on one foot and jabbing my crotch with the edge of the tub before finally being pulled in alongside Darryn. He always laughed at me, calling me a Horny Frog. Coincidently, I came home one day tired and needing a hot soak, finding the handcrafted drawer-step was perfectly placed by the tub.

I looked around my bathroom and came back into my pain. My pain? The memories were so fresh, like a film being played over and over, stuck in a loop of the same scene. His scene.

I started to think about the plans we had. Our wedding. Our wedding. As much as I hated funerals, I hated weddings. I had a friend long ago who, for years, struggled to keep her relationship straight. What was her name? Her partner was the type to bed a new woman every weekend then come home and beg for her forgiveness, and she just ate it up. Trisha. Trisha and Mike. From the first moment, she found him to be a complete challenge. For years, I thought she was throwing away her life on him and then one day everything looked brighter. I saw her tears evaporate and her smile became genuine. The happiness came outward from her and I could see in his eyes he had been changed. The way they came together after everything was said and done changed my outlook on life and love. Maybe happy endings were possible. Just not for me.

The water!
Ugh, the water! The tub was overflowing and I’d now have to mop it up before the floor started leaking into the downstairs apartment. I couldn’t have neighbors complaining to the landlord. That would mess up my plans. Darryn. I’ll join you just as soon as I get this mess up.

Mopping the floor wasn’t a fun task but it did get me out of the slump I felt I was in. It gave me motivation to the next hour, when I would slip away.

Finally, the floor was dry, the tub was at a perfect temperature, and I was ready. I uncapped the many different pill bottles I had collected over the years, filled my pitcher with crisp Brita water and proceeded to wash them down, once or twice gagging on the size of the 800mg ibuprofen pills and the taste of the clonazepam and oxycodone as a few of them got caught under my tongue. The topiramate and the chlorpromazine went down easily as they were small and had a slippery coating.  Of course, the effects wouldn’t start for a good fifteen to twenty minutes.

Moving over to my tub, I unsheathed my towel and stepped in, using the drawer. It felt nice having the drawer be the last things my feet would ever touch. My razor was dull. I peeled off the plastic from the container, and took out a new razor blade head. Then very carefully, I cracked the plastic away from the blades and separated them, taking one to my wrist, very slowly, and then the other. Feeling the sting of the thin metal and the warmth of the fresh blood pooling to the surface of my flesh and spilling over, droplets falling into the water making the tub have a pink glimmer of tint to it. I had to admit, there was beauty to death.

Darryn, I’m coming to join you. I haven’t felt this happy in weeks. Darryn, I’ve missed you so much.

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