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Rash Decisions is originally a short story written for my English class. For this assignment I received a mark of 95% because of minor verb tense problems. These have been fixed, and I have taken into consideration a side note from my teacher and have added in an extra paragraph as well as some sensory descriptions. For some people the story can be very intense near the end, and it is cautioned that anyone with problems against suicide do not read this. All rights are reserved to me, and any copiers do NOT have permission. This story is completely fictional. I hope you enjoy!


Submitted:Oct 4, 2012    Reads: 82    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


I sat in the waiting room fiddling with my fingers and trying to keep from bursting into tears. My best friend, Ali was by my side and playing games on her phone. The clicking noise her fingers made as they danced across the keys was irritating, and not helping my state of depression. She had no idea why I was so distraught, no idea why we were there. No one did.

I don't know why I did it, and no matter how many times I think about it I can't come up with a logical excuse my for actions. I was stupid, and I was jealous; but that doesn't mean I had a good reason to do what I did.

*

The music was pumping, I could feel it radiating through the floorboards and into my body. I'd always enjoyed music. It had a calming feel to it, and whenever I listened to it I could feel my worries just fade away. I was sitting on the tattered old couch beside my boyfriend, Jake. A carefully rolled blunt was being passed around the small group of us.

I heard a giggle to my right and glanced over to see Jake smiling at a girl from my History class, Bethany. She was wearing a short black skirt and ripped fishnet leggings with a short cut top on. I looked down at my clothing; I was dressed modestly. It made me begin to wonder if I wasn't what Jake wanted. Maybe he wanted a girl like Bethany, someone that wasn't afraid to show their body; somebody confident.

Bethany placed a hand on his thigh and he made no attempt to move it. I was fuming, and I got up and angrily left the room. As I was leaving I ran in to his friend Darren and couldn't help myself. In one swift movement I had placed my hands around his neck and was kissing him. The rest of the night was a blur, and the last thing I remembered was removing my clothing and getting in to bed with him.

*

"The doctor will see you now, Nicole" said a nurse and I felt tears brim in my eyes. A single tear slipped down my cheek as I made my way in to the doctor's office. There he sat in his large black chair, wearing a slightly stained off-white lab coat. His stare was judging as I took a seat in the chair directly across from his.

His lips were set into a tight line, and his voice was grim as he next spoke. Even though he tried to hide his sarcasm I still detected it. "Congratulations, Nicole. You're pregnant."

This time I couldn't contain them, and the tears quickly began to run down my face. I choked back an agonized sob before nodding and dashing out of the white, sterile room.

I gave Ali a mournful look, and even though she didn't know what was happening she got out of her chair and pulled me in to an embrace.

"It's going to be okay" Ali soothed before asking the imminent question. "What's happened?"

I looked at her as another tear ran down my already soaked cheeks. "I'm pregnant, and it's not Jake's" I replied, my voice cracking on his name. Ali stared at me, open mouthed. A stunned expression sat upon her face, twisting her normally beautiful features.

"When are you planning on telling him?" she questioned, and I shook my head, trying to shake the feelings of guilt that were suddenly overcoming me in that very moment.

"I don't know, soon, I guess," I replied whilst looking at the ground. Thoughts of Jake flashed through my mind and I began to sob again. I just knew he was going to be mad at me when he found out. No, disgusted, appalled, infuriated, even!

*

The drive home that day was filled with an awkward silence. Neither of us knew what to say, and for the most part I had no intentions of talking. When we arrived at my house I ran my fingers slowly across the cold, black leather of the door. I pushed it open slowly and flinched at the high pitched squeaking noise that it made. Getting out of the car I walked slowly up into my house and up to my small, makeshift bedroom. I was feeling numb and disconnected, as if my head was another being and no longer connected to my body.

A thousand emotions were running through me as I thought of how to tell Jake what was happening. I couldn't take the regret any longer and I sent him a text message, asking him to come over. What felt like hours but was in reality just minutes, there was a knock on my front door. My breath was coming in short, painful gasps as I opened the door. Jake was standing there, a worried expression on his face.

"What's wrong, Nic?" He asked and I didn't reply, I just moved out of his way so that he could come inside. He sat down on the couch and I chose to sit on a chair on the opposite side of the room. The chair was covered in flowers, which made me feel as if it was taunting me. The happiness that the chair portrayed was so far from my feeling of dread that it seemed as if I shouldn't be sitting in it.

The sound of Jake shifting his position on the couch broke me from my thoughts, and I looked up to meet his eyes. I couldn't bear it any longer and finally dropped my gaze to my hands. "Jake, I'm pregnant, and it's not yours..." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it. The room became silent and I looked towards Jake, waiting for a reply.

It seemed like hours later when Jake finally stood up. Instead of saying anything he walked quickly to the door and left without as much as a single glance back at me. A wave of over-whelming grief enveloped me and I began to sob.

A million thoughts flashed through my head, but the most prominent was the one that kept me in my over-whelmed state. Jake would never forgive me, and I don't think I would ever begin to forgive myself.

*

I guess I should have learnt the first time that making rash decisions didn't tend to work in my favour, but I wouldn't ever have to worry about it again.

I made my way quickly to the washroom, stumbling on each step on my way up. When I finally reached my destination I threw open the cabinet door and grabbed every pill bottle I could find. The caps were soon off of each of them and I poured them into my hand. Green, red, yellow and blue pills mixed together as I slowly brought them up to my mouth and emptied them in. Turning on the sink I filled up a glass of water and quickly washed them down. As I lay on the tiled floor I felt the life slipping from me.

"I'm sorry" was the last thing I said before death finally overcame me.





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