Reviews Requested- Contains upsetting material - Unsafe(story)

[Cyanide Cola]

“Why did you do it?” he asked. I shifted in my seat, and looked at him briefly. He was a fairly small guy, not short, but small. Dark hair, dark eyes, light skin. That’s all I could catch before I looked away. I hated looking at people when I talked about serious stuff. I don’t know why, but I just can’t do it. So I focused my attention on the pen in my hand. I turned it and looped it between my fingers. “What do you mean,” I asked. I glanced at him to see his reaction, there wasn’t one. “I mean,” he started “why did you try to kill yourself?” I guess I knew what he meant, I was just so sick of answering that question. Everyone asked it, and it seemed like there just wasn’t an answer. I mean I could make a list of the things that were wrong in my life, but they weren’t really the reason why. Those things could have been gone and I still would have tried. The fact of the matter was, that is what was just going to happen. That’s how the story was supposed to end.
“Because it’s what I had to do.”
“What do you mean?” I glanced at him, he tilted his head slightly. “That’s just what had to happen,” I though somehow if I repeated it over and over people would finally understand, maybe I could make it clear that there was only one way out, only one door open, only one thing left to do. I didn’t have options. That’s what had to happen. How else could I put it? Everyone’s story has and end that was supposed to be mine. I don’t have a place in this world. And I was tired of looking for one. I was just tired. Tired of everything. Dragging myself out of bed every morning, if it was still morning by the time I managed to do it, forcing myself to shower, brush my teeth, fix my hair, and make-up? That never happened anymore. Tasks that everyone does, simple things, became so tedious, painful even, that I hid, hid in my room, locked everything away. I only forced myself up to try and convince everyone I was okay. Eventually even the thought of doing that, living, if that’s what that’s called, staying alive at least, breathing, for another day became unbearable. I was ready to go, I was ready for something new.
Perhaps I could have said all these things to him, maybe he could have understood then, my thoughts had exhausted me, and just wanted to go back to my room and hide. Let myself fall into something safe and dark, where I could be alone, and at peace. It’s usually called sleep, but I call it salvation. The thing I looked forward to from the moment I awoke. How long until I can go back to my bed. But here, this place, it’s different. I hadn’t gotten a good nights sleep in, well, I’m not sure how long, days, maybe? In the hospital when I managed to finally fall asleep, someone was there, taking my temperature or my blood pressure.
I glanced up at him again. He had jotted something down in his notepad. I guess my answer was satisfactory enough. “How long do I have to stay here?” I asked. “It depends,” his scribbling stopped, he shifted his eyes to look at me “If you don’t really want our help, we’re not going to force you, but we are here to help, and I can’t release you if you’re actively suicidal.”Actively? “People come here they get help one way or the other,” He paused and lifted his head. I didn’t understand the hell he was talking about. ‘One way or the other’ what the **** does that mean?

“They get help from us and go into outpatient treatment, or they don’t accept our help and find a more effective way to…” he twisted his wrist hoping I would get the idea, why couldn’t he just say it? People lie their way out of here and when they get out, try to off themselves again and properly this time. How many times had he had seen that happen, how many times had he tried to help someone, only for them to leave and go right back to that ledge? He didn’t say it because he couldn’t say it. Was it guilt? Compassion? Maybe some of both. I imagine this job comes with guilt. But as far as I could tell, everything does.“Right now,” I had been so intrenched in my thoughts he startled me “we’re just going to see how things go, I’ll meet with you tomorrow and we’ll go from there.” What did I get myself into?



Author's note: So I'm not sure if I should continue this or not, so let me know if I should write/post more, becasue I do have more to this story if people are interested.

[Sooty]

I would like to see how this pans out. Obviously I would love the story to be that you time wasn't to die but your time was to get the help that you very much needed and deserved.

Sophie.x

[Cyanide Cola]

Quote:

Originally Posted by Sooty

I would like to see how this pans out. Obviously I would love the story to be that you time wasn't to die but your time was to get the help that you very much needed and deserved.

Sophie.x

If you're interested I'm going to be posting it on mibba. I'm not sure if you can post multiple 'chapters' on ryl but here's the link to my mibba =) http://www.mibba.com/Member/322482/

[Emsie]

This is ok but I found it really hard to follow because you didn't use paragraphs. You need to start a new line when you change topic or someone new says something.

[Cyanide Cola]

The first time they roll you in you think, this place doesn't seem so bad. And I suppose it wasn’t. It was only my first day. I had gotten here late last night and I couldn’t sleep much. It was better than the hospital. I was bored in the hospital and when I finally got to sleep someone came around to take my blood pressure and whatever. I wasn’t allowed any books, or electronics until my last too days. My parents had brought me a few magazines and I got quite a few visitors, family, friends, girlfriend. There was a TV in there but it didn’t have many channels. And not too many shows I liked. Basically it was boring. And I had to wear that stupid hospital gown that doesn't cover your ass, and I wasn’t allowed any underwear, or even a ****ing bra. The bra pissed me off the most. See, I’m very large chested, and I can’t really go without a bra. I was so happy when they finally let me wear one. So I suppose this place is much better than that. I was allowed to wear my own clothes. They even have books here, or at least that’s what I was told. My psychiatrist had pulled me out of my group, and now group was over, it seemed like everyone was just wondering. Making phone calls, watching TV, talking. Ugh. **** this. I didn’t want to deal with anything anymore. So I went back to my room and laid down. What was I doing here? Did I want help? I just couldn’t imagine anything getting better, so what the **** was the point? I’ve tried this thing before, and it helps for a little while, but it all comes back. It’s always there, this darkness, this hole. It’s always there. It just gets bigger and darker as time goes on. So just do what you have to, cut, purge, starve, binge, to live with it. I was basically just buying my time until I found a way out. And when I finally found a way out it was ripped away from me. I closed my eyes, hoping that I could escape, just for a moment.

I was woken up by one of the staff, telling me that it was lunch time. **** that. You could keep me from cutting, but you can’t make me ****ing eat. And she left. That’s the great thing about being twenty-one, you don’t really ‘have’ to do anything here. They can’t force you to take meds, go to groups, or all that bullshit. But during group you had to stay in your room or go to group. Whatever. It’s not like there’s anything out there I want. So I lied there, staring at the celling. I can’t believe I agreed to this. I didn’t want to go home, how could I go back to that house, how could I ever live with my parents. I was so humiliated, I wanted more than anything to disappear. Just go away so I didn’t have to bother anyone anymore. And so they couldn’t bother me. I don’t know if I fell asleep again or not. I closed my eyes for what felt like a moment when I hear a soft voice call my name and ask “Are you okay?” It was my roommate. She was a small girl. She had long dark hair and olive skin. She had been very nice to me so far. I told her I just wasn’t hungry. That’s when a staff member came in. She started asking my roommate question about how she was feeling. Standard questions at first. Then it got into heavier stuff, thoughts of suicide, thoughts of harming yourself. When she was finished with her, it was my turn. I was so accustomed to lieing about these things that’s what I did.
“Any thoughts of suicide?”
“No.”
“Any thoughts of harming yourself?”
“No.”
She paused for a moment, looking at her notepad. She turned her head slightly and looked to me. “So,” she tapped her notepad “if you’re no experiencing these things why are you here?”
Why the **** am I here? What am I doing? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t even know where to start. I could feel my chest start to tighten, every though I had seemed to be drowned out static. What am I even supposed to do?

[isc]

this is really good, would love to read more :)

[YodaBearInterrupted]

I like it so far :)

[Cyanide Cola]

So, this part is a bit short, because I've been a bit busy and this is what I've gotten done, but anyway enjoy and let me know what you think. I also cleaned up part one so it's easier to fallow =)


People around here and their ****ing masks. I’m not totally sure why they where them. Are they afraid of catching something for us, or where they afraid to get us sick. I guess it didn’t matter, but it was just another thing that made this place feel...wrong, I think. You could never get conformable here. The only way I could sleep was the ambien they gave me. I was glad for it. I finally got some sleep last night. I was actually feeling better today, maybe it was the sleep, maybe I had just accepted my fate. But it had been a long time sense I remember feeling this stable, at least without my girlfriend or friends. When I was around them, they made me feel safe, like I was okay. I guess I was feeling pretty good when I was still all ****ed up from the pills I took. In that state I couldn’t remember why I was in the hospital. I didn’t know what I had tried to do. I kept telling Mara and the nurses that ‘this isn’t real” and pulling out my IVs. They had put a tube down my throat to give me the charcoal. My voice was still raspy. Words cannot express how glad I am I don’t remember that. I remember was getting out of Allie’s car after begging her to just drive me to the hospital, so I wouldn’t have to get in the ambulance, and getting into an ambulance. I remember the horrible feeling I had, because at that point I knew I’d survive. I remember them asking me what happened, what I had taken it and why I had taken it. I remember one of them holding my arm and me being in excruciating pain. The last thing I remember was looking out the ambulance and seeing Allie talking to a police officer, then nothing until a few days after it had happened. It’s weird having this gap in my memory. People told me what had happened when I was still ****ed up, and it’s weird. But it’s all black for me. The next thing I remember is talking to my cousin. I think I was laughing, but I remember seeing him with sad watery eyes. Then it’s blurry. Then I remember the next day clearly. I was so unhappy. And gross. Apparently I had refused to shower until then. And I need help to do it. It’s a strange feeling not to be able to move like you’re used to. I couldn’t seem to get my legs and feet to work like they did. I needed a walker at first, and help trying to get to the bathroom. But it slowly got better. In two days, I was walking on my own, just like normal. I had to have someone in my room at all times. Watching me, I guess to make sure I wouldn’t try to off myself again, not that I could. There wasn’t anything around me that I could use to hurt myself anyway. I was so humiliated. So ashamed. I hated myself. I hurt my family, lied to them, and now I couldn’t even tell them why. I just couldn’t explain myself. And I didn’t know how to get them to understand. There was so much, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t have a choice, It’s what I had to do, and I just wished they could understand that. I’m such an awful person. Do I even deserve to get better? Do I deserve to be happy or even feel good for a moment. No. No I didn’t. So in that moment I brought myself back to the pit. Because that’s where I deserved to be.

[YodaBearInterrupted]

I like it... nicely done