Death Went Running

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girl is depressed and turns to suicide by pills. But she finds out that someone else has a different plan for her.
A true story.

Submitted: December 10, 2007

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 10, 2007



Everything blurred; I could barely make out my own hand in front of my face. Cold sweat poured out of my body and I grabbed for anything to keep me stable. But everything was so out of proportion to my eyes that I fell to the cold hard floor of the bathroom. My hair fell over my face, further obscuring the little view I had. My hands grabbed at the floor, scratching the ceramic tiling with my nails, which I could feel ripping off from the intense pressure I was applying. But I felt no pain from my nails or from my head when I hit the floor. The pain inside my body was worse. My stomach clenched, cramping up, shooting pain throughout my whole body.

My lungs filled with air, but I couldn’t exhale it. I no longer had control of my convulsing muscles. Stars erupted in my eyes. Tears stung at my eyes. I wanted nothing more than for this pain to stop; for this pain to be my savior and end it all. Drool fell out of my mouth and I finally let out a loud scream. My limbs became limp from the lack of oxygen. My brain began to shut down. My eyes were open, but I could see nothing.

In the last moments of consciousness, I thought:

"Wow, this is it. This is the end."

And then all went black…

Sunlight streamed threw the open window, sending rays of warm sun onto my face. My eyes twitched, fluttering open to the sound of birds singing outside. The world was on its side. I lifted my head, wondering where I was—I was in the bathroom, lying on the floor.

My nose crinkled at a bitter acidic smell. I looked down to see vomit on the floor, surrounding my face. I gagged—the smell was horrible. I pushed myself into a sitting position, grabbing a towel and wiping my face off.

I struggled to remember how and why I was on the floor.
Why had I thrown up?

I looked out the window, at the midday sun shining brightly, no clouds in the sky whatsoever to obstruct its rays. It hit me with such beauty I had never noticed before. I looked up at the counter, grabbing a rubber band and putting my hair up. My bangs dropped into my face.

I forced myself to stand up, facing the mirror. As I did so, it all came back to me.

How at school I had failed yet another test, sending my once 4.0 GPA to a measly 1.8. How the boy across from me in study hall passed me yet another note, containing obscurities and such vulgar thoughts they made me sick—forcing me, yet again, to say no to having sex with him. How my best friend told me to get lost when her new volleyball teammate showed up to talk about her latest crush. How that whole day I had had the worst hangover because I had gotten drunk the night before, even though I had promised I would never do it again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering that beyond horrible day. I had hid in the girl’s bathroom for the last hour of the school day and cried. None of my teachers saw anything wrong with me. And none of my friends either, though I wouldn’t have told them anything. But not one person realized something was wrong.

Memories of last night flooded back into my mind. The moment I had gotten home I had run upstairs into my mother’s medicine cabinet and grabbed all the pills I could find. I went into my own room, locking the door behind me. And in my own bathroom, I had downed thirty-some pills of all brands: Tylenol, Ibuprofen, Advil, Nyquil, etc.

My whole body shuddered as I thought about what had almost happened. Every moment of my agony flitted threw my mind, as if I were reliving it. Falling to the floor, losing my sight, it all came back to me. But then I remembered something else.

As I had lain, waiting to for the pain to stop, for my body to give up, for myself to die, I had heard a voice. But it was so quiet that it didn’t register in my mind at first. It had been so soft, so loving, yet so strong and powerful. I thought it insignificant. It had uttered only a few words, but they hung in the air forever—I could almost hear them now.

"You’re not ready yet. I’m still here..."

My heart fluttered and my whole body went numb as I remembered that. I didn’t even know what to think.

Was this a dream?

But something told me it wasn’t. A feeling deep down kept me thinking it was real.

Or maybe it was so beautiful that I just wanted to believe it was real, just so I knew something or someone cared about what I did to myself

I removed all those thoughts—all I knew for sure was, last night when I should’ve died, death went running. And for that I will always be grateful.

I grabbed a towel and wet it down, mopping up my vomit. I took a glance at my reflection in the mirror. Instead of seeing an ugly, disgusting, dirty girl, for once, I saw a young, beautiful woman. And that gave me hope.

A dove landed on the window in the mirror. Amazed, I stared at it, but when I turned around, there was no dove there. My head whipped back to the mirror, where the dove still stood. It hooted once and took flight, flying into the sky, disappearing into the blinding sun, giving me a sense of peace and belonging I had never felt. A friendly breeze whipped through the window, surrounding me. I closed my eyes and breathed in the warm air, thankful to be alive.

The phone rang, startling me out of my daze. I scurried over to the phone, almost knocking it off its resting place. I pushed it to my ear.

"Hello?" I was barely able to breathe.

"Hey, Bekah?" said a friendly voice, "It’s Kiley."

I let my breath out in relief. I don’t know what I expected, but I was happy it was just a friend. But at the same time, I wondered why she was calling me. We never talked outside of school. Except for those times I had gone with her to her church’s youth group last year.

"Oh, hi," I stammered.

"Hey, yea. Sorry, it’s just that last night I was watching a movie and suddenly you came into my mind, and I just thought I’d call and ask you how you’ve been. You didn’t look too good yesterday. Is everything okay?" she asked. Tears swelled my eyes, and I began to weep. Someone actually did care about what happens to me!

I told her everything, and not once did she interrupt or give a comment I found to be offensive. She just listened and when I was done, she was crying with me. Any other moment I would’ve felt stupid and embarassed to tell this story. But right now, it felt so good to get it off my chest.

"Bekah, oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you cared that much," she studdered as she cried, "Bekah, I love you, and don’t you ever forget it. Don’t you ever forget it."

I nodded my head in agreement—because to this day, I haven’t forgotten it. I promise you I haven’t forgotten it.

Death Went Running

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