I sink down into the couch, feeling cold wrap itself tightly around my fragile body, making it hard to breathe. I feel tired in every bone in my body. And sad. Sad deep down in my stomach, making me want to throw up all my exhausting feelings.
I've never felt this way before. Yet I have. Somehow. My emotions are completely out of control, and I'm panicking inside my mind, but my body isn't moving.
Suddenly fear takes over. Washes over me with surprising force, and I feel my mouth open in a scream, but my voice sounds far away.
I tear up. Still frozen to the spot. It's so scary, and I feel my heartbeat go crazy inside my chest. My head spins. Then I feel like I'm falling. Everything turns black, and I stop screaming. What's wrong with me?
I cry harder. It sounds like someone else is crying. Not me. But I can feel the fresh tears on my cheeks.
I regain my sight slowly, and my eyes flicker all over the room. It feels like a different room. The atmosphere is heavy and dark, and it is weighing me down.
I stand up, paralyzed by so many feelings. I wanna grab the phone and call her, but she told me to give her some time. What does that even mean? I don't have time. I know that. I feel it.
I walk on shaky legs to the kitchen and grab the knive in a clumsy motion, before regret gets the best of me. I know it'll come soon, so I place the knive on my underarm, determined, and lets the blade slide down my milky skin, painting my arm raw red.
I hear her voice inside my mind. I know it's just a memory. She shouts at me. She's mad. Not mad at me, but at my paranoia, she says. And she cries. It's oddly comforting. I lay in her arms and I feel safe, even though death is lurking around the corner. She pulls me back, and I feel exhausted in the best way possible. This time is different. She isn't here. Haven't been for a while. That's the only reason I feel like this again. I know that. She'll know that, when they tell her. If they do.
My eyelashes flutter, and I feel dizzy. "Shit". Is that my voice? I sound weak. My breath is shaky, uneven.
I fall to the floor, hit my head on it, feel myself slip away. I'm aready so cold, but I somehow manage to get colder. I feel regret kick down my walls now, but I know it's too late. This is the right thing to do, it has to be. But it isn't. And I feel it the second before the light leaves me eyes...
