DISCLAIMER: Trigger warning for this chapter.

. . . . . . .

If you would've asked me a few months ago if I saw myself here, honestly? I'd be on the fence about it. The idea of ending it all seemed so easy. But when it comes to actually pursuing that? It's difficult. That's when you start thinking about anyone out there that could possibly still love you, what pain they would feel. But I think I've fucked that all up.

I'm sure that once my Aunt gets home tomorrow, she'll kill me for her house looking like this. She'll collaborate with my mother to figure out where they can ship me off to next so I could be someone else's burden. I haven't heard from either of my parents in weeks. The last time I spoke to my father, he wondered why I was calling and assumed I needed money. Then there's Taylor, my supposed best friend. He can fuck off for all I care. He was my last strand that I held onto for some type of sanity.

And Jack...

What was already going down a dark tunnel just got deeper in. We both hurt each other severely. Even though he had hurt me first, I still thought about him every single day, hour, minute, and second. If I wasn't, then I wouldn't have been so emotionally unstable. Usually I could control that but...I let him change me. He was beginning to bring back the parts of me that I used to love. Before him, I looked at myself as trash and I accepted that. Now I'm trash again. I feel trashed. And I'll probably always be trash. And maybe...it was time to take the trash out for good.

Maybe if I cut again, it'll all go away and I can start over. But that wasn't the case. No matter how many horizontal lines I sliced up my left arm, the pain was too massive. I stared at the pills and grabbed what remained of last night's beer. I'm not sure how much I took, I just poured the bag into my mouth and washed it down. I honestly wasn't sure if these would kill me or I'd fall into a coma. Anything but reality, it hurt entirely too much. I took out one of the heart clues I kept from Jack's scavenger hunt and wrote on the back of it.

I love you. I'm still with you. I'm sorry. x

It took a while until I felt like I transcended onto another plane. I wandered around the house, stumbling down the stairs and stepping over sleeping teenagers. I saw that Taylor left at my request and the pool area was empty. Soon I started to lose feeling in my legs, falling sideways into the pool. My wounded arm stung from the chlorine and it was hard to try and stay afloat, so I slowly fell to the pool's floor. It was peaceful down there. I heard music but it came from my own mind, slipping slowly out of consciousness. I closed my eyes and waited for the water to fill my lungs.

_________

I woke up...
Coughing up water...
And opened my eyes to the overcast grey skies...

Only this time, I wasn't on wet sand. I wasn't surrounded by lifeguards. And I wasn't laughing like everything was a joke.

Maisie had jumped in to get me. Her and Cousin Jack helped pull me out the water. She had performed CPR and tried to keep me conscious. Cousin Jack continuously tapped my cheeks.

"Come on, Imogen, stay with us," he pleaded.

I thought I had spoke, but I didn't. I tried again.

"Pills," I whispered.

"Pills?" Maisie repeated.

"Shit. Maisie go call 9-1-1, now," Cousin Jack commanded.

Maisie ran into the house while he rolled me onto my side. He stuck his fingers far down my throat until I gagged and threw up. Mostly liquid came up as I had barely eaten. Half of me fought to stay alive, the other half was encouraging myself to let go.

_________

They had strapped me to the hospital bed, saying I was a threat to myself. I felt barren with nothing in my stomach. Cousin Jack stayed with me and we watched cartoons together. I could tell something was bothering him. His legs were restless and he kept biting his nails.

He finally looked at me. "What were you thinking?"

I glanced at him then looked back at the TV with no answer.

"Killing yourself over a guy? Come on."

I scoffed. "Jack was just the hairpin trigger. I have a storm inside that's been brewing for years," I shook my head. "I don't know how to get rid of it, okay?"

"Then tell someone. Talk to someone. You can't do everything on your own."

He was clearly upset and a little rattled from the whole thing. I watched him as he watched cartoons. Later on he had brought me McDonalds and even fed it to me. So...I guess that's someone who still cares about me. But it wasn't like he ever stopped.

The next day, I woke up to the sound of the hospital curtain being aggressively pushed to the side. It was Aunt Sophia, an angry Aunt Sophia. She reminded me so much of my mother.

"Imogen Calcutta Riley," she said with an angry drawl.

"That's...not my middle name," I said, picking at the bandage on my arm.

"Whatever it is! My Vegas trip is cut short and I return to find out my house is trashed and you nearly killed yourself! How ungrateful can you be?"

I scoffed. "Unbelievable. Just like mom! I'm going through some intense shit and all you can think about is your precious house and your Vegas trip! I almost died, Aunt Sophia. I wanted to be dead! Does that register anywhere in your red flag index?!"

"I love and care about you, Imogen. I truly do. But how can anyone help you if you don't help yourself?"

I folded my arms and she sighed.

"I talked to the doctor," she continued. "He suggested this new program, something like a rehabilitation program for young people. They deal with substance abuse, depression, self harm, all of that. It's in Pennsylvania and...I think you should go. But I can't force you to go. If you want to continue living this life, that's fine. You're 18, you can do what you want. But not while you live under my roof. You can go ahead back to the fast lane and move on out. The choice is yours."

"Why not? My dad doesn't want me. My mother doesn't want me. You don't want me. Jack doesn't want me. I might as well ship off to East Bumblefuck, Pennsylvania."

"Don't be so stubborn. I'm trying to help you. Can't you see that?"

I noticed her bottom lip trembling but remained silent.

________

I was only allowed to pack one bag. I didn't bother tell Jack that I was leaving. Not like he would care. He was disgusted with me and for all I know, he probably ran back to Sylvia. I would be disgusted with me, too. Cousin Jack had given me the biggest hug before I left. I brought all the Hershey Kiss chocolates with me to Pennsylvania.

I was met at the airport by the most gorgeous male nurse named Ian. He had dark hair and bright eyes and I realized he would probably be the only thing I'd like about being at the psychiatric hospital. My first week I had already gained an enemy. Her name was Zola and she didn't take kind to new people. She was in for manic depression and sometimes didn't like taking her pills. They didn't prescribe me anything. They claimed they wanted to take a different approach with me so that I wouldn't have to depend on any substance.

It was weird being in another group session. It was weird sitting in a circle without seeing Jack across the way or next to me. And it was weird that in my session, it was all girls, even though this is a co-ed place. When they asked for my stories or confessions, I would tell everyone in a bland way. Unenthusiastic about everything. I still felt drained and lifeless, wondering why I was there and how I let it get this far.

When there were no sessions or doctor chats, I'd go outside in the back gardens. Ian had told me it's his favorite part of the property. Whoever did the landscape work had did an ace job.

I was sitting on one of the benches, sketching bumblebees. It was the closest thing to a happy sketch that I had drawn in a while. Suddenly, there was a chocolate pudding cup shoved into my vision, startling me. I looked up to see a guy with light brown hair smiling at me.

"Pudding?" He asked.

I could tell he was a patient since he was wearing a sweatshirt with the hospital's name on it. I just wore the t-shirt.

"No thanks, I'm not hungry," I answered.

He sat down next to me. "Anorexia?"

"Do these thighs look anorexic to you?"

"I'm schizophrenic," he told me. "I'm doing better though. I'm out of here in two weeks."

"Congratulations," I said in a monotone.

"What's your name, new girl?"

"...Imogen."

"I'm Matthew. Well, Matt. Really whatever you're more comfortable with."

He seemed goofy but...I felt comfortable with him. We talked for a while after that and got to know each other a bit.

"So...Jack was your boyfriend?" He asked me.

"Almost. That's a story for another day."

"Do you wanna call him? I know where they hide the cell phones."

"Seriously? Wait, what do you want in return?"

His eyebrows knitted together. "N-nothing. Just doing something for a new friend. Why would you think I wanted something?"

"You're...right. I'm sorry, that's just all I'm used to." My head hung low when I was hit with another wave of the loserdom that my life has been.

Later that night, after lights out, Matt and I snuck out of our rooms at precisely 11 PM. He knew that the nurse on watch duty was never really watching anything. The small TV mounted on the wall was watching her as she slept. We quietly made it down the hall into the empty office. He broke into the file cabinet that held all the phones. There were so many.

"Good luck finding yours," he said as he held the flashlight.

But mine immediately stood out because of all the shiny stickers I had put on it. When I turned it on, I only had 19% battery power left. As I made the call to Jack, it already dropped to 18%.

Ring... Ring... Ring...
Hey you've reached Jack, sorry I-

(hang up. dial again)

Ring... Ring... Ri-

JACK: Hello?
ME: Jack...hey.
JACK: What is it?
ME: I needed to hear your voice. Listen, I-
JACK: Please don't. I got through a week & a half without talking to you and that was difficult enough. Now you're just cutting the wound back open.
ME: No, Jack, please just-
JACK: We're just not good for each other. I hurt you. You hurt me. This isn't healthy. So...who knows, maybe we'll talk again in a few months. I have to get over you.
ME: (cries) Jack please don't-

The call ends. And soon after, my phone dies.

"Fuck," I said through my tears.

"I'm sorry," Matt said, rubbing my back.

"It's over. He's gone." I dropped my phone back into the pile of the others and Matt continued to rub my back until I was able to walk without collapsing. I had hoped it wasn't over. I had a bit of hope that there would be a silver lining soon on the horizon. That's how it is in the movies, right? But perhaps my story isn't like the old classics. Perhaps it's like recent cinematic tales where the ending isn't always a happy one. Nevertheless, still an ending.

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Author's Note: Poor Imogen and Jack but you reap what you sow. Five more chapters! And a few more plot twists up my sleeve -evil laugh-

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