Flashbacks.

Flashbacks.

A Story by Clare Martin
"

I narrate a story about someone on the road of suicide and thinks back to why she is feeling suicidal and should she do it or not.

"

Cast off from the rest of the world, I stand in the storm, the rain pouring on my face, the blood trickling down my arms and the knife gripped tightly in my hand. I am holding it so tight it hurts, but not as much as the damage that has already been made, and I feel dizzy as the blood trickles down my hand and drips into the puddle I am standing in. It is raining so much I can hardly feel the tears stinging, but there is a difference between the cold rainwater and my salty, warm tears. I hardly realize there is people around me, trying to persuade me not to do it, but I block them off.

What should I do?

I decide to close my eyes and block out everything. I cannot see. I cannot hear. I cannot feel. At least not physically.

But in my mind, I use an eye I have used many times before; my mind's eye. In this eye, an image is placed where I can very clearly see, hear and feel everything I want to that happened in the past. Not what I want to see happen or not what I wanted to happen, but what actually happened.

The first thing I see is my room as it was when I was younger; my dolls are scattering the floor, there are pictures of cartoons on the wall and my pink-light lamp is on. I am just about to fall asleep when I hear my door knocking and a very familiar face shows and a body walks in. My friend, Jessa. She is changed into her night clothes and her curly hair is  damp and brushed through and her curls start to form. Her olive skin is as smooth as peach and her teeth are blinding white as she smiles. My first ever and best friend. We were on a sleepover.

'Sorry the room is all messy,' I say.

'It's okay. Sorry I was a long time in the shower,' she said.

'Let's sleep, eh?' I said, getting back under the blankets.

'Okay,' Jessa said, getting into the camp bed next to my own.

Then everything blurs as I move to another memory.

Now I am in the school playground. Jessa is next to me, her hair in a tangled mop of thick, black spirals. My other friend, Aoife, who is from Ireland, is with me too. I look at Jessa, then Aoife, who has long sandy-coloured hair. She always wears lipstick, even though it's against our school rules, and it makes her look really pretty. Then a figure walks up to us and I feel my knee's going weak. It was him. Him.

I picture him right there and then, as an eleven year old, happy and carefree. He smiles at me. His name is Caleb.

'Hi,' he says to me.

'Hello, Caleb,' I say, shaking.

'Do you wanna play hopskotch?' he said, smiling.

'I'm terrible at it,' I say.

'How can you be bad at hopskotch?' he said, starting to laugh, making me feel bad.

He sees my expression.

'Okay. Shall we walk down to the lake instead? I think there's fish there. I saw them putting something in there anyway,' he says.

'But...b-but we're n-not allowed by the l-lake,' I stammer.

'Girls aren't allowed to wear lipstick and Aoife wears it, so I think we'll be fine,' he says and Aoife blushes.

'Actually, my Mam was talking to the teachers...' Aoife started.

'Come on, Monica. Let's go down to the lake,' he said.

'Hey, what about us?' said Jessa.

'Oh...sorry...' Caleb said, going red. Oh my God! Maybe he likes me!

'I was just kidding, Monica. You go ahead and have fun. Me and Aoife will be fine,'

Aoife nods.

'Are you sure?' I say.

'Of course, ye eejit!' Aoife says. I don't know what an 'eejit' is, though. All her family says it, so I think it's an Irish saying.

Caleb and me walk down to the lake and I feel my legs trembling and the butterflies flap their wings in my stomach.

'How are you, Monica?' he says to me.

I gulp. 'Good,' I say.

'Awesome. Listen, it's my birthday next Saturday...' he starts.

'I know! I know! I mean...Sylvia...' I blurt out stupidly.

'Sylvie? Yeah, she's telling everything, above and below her. She's a cutie, I'll admit it, but as if a big sister wasn't enough without getting a little one!' he says, laughing.

'I think Sylvia...Sylvie's adorable. I wished I had a little sister,'

'You're the only girl in your family?' he asked.

'Sure am. I have four older brothers,' I said.

'Wow. I've got Olivia and Sylvie. You have four siblings! Like, whoa,' he said.

We take no interest in the lake. We just look at eachother for a few seconds.

'So, erm...me and Olivia and Sylvie are going to the cinema...you wanna...like...' he stammers.

'Come?' I say.

'Yeah, you wanna?' he says.

'Yeah! I mean, if I'm free...I mean, like...' I stop.

Then I continue.

'Yeah, I'll come,' I say.

He smiles.

'I knew you wouldn't let me down,' then his eyes turn sad and I am surprised.

'Everyone else does,' he adds.

'Why?' I say, in surprise.

'I dunno, kid. I guess I'm a loner,' he says.

'No, you're not! I like you!' I say, before I have a chance to stop. I take a deep breath and hope he never noticed.

But he does.

'Really? You really like me?' he says.

'Erm...'

'No, you said it! I heard it. I can't believe it...'

'I'm so sorry, I didn't...'

'Monica, I like you too!' he says and he takes my hand.

Then my mental vision blurs again and my memory changes and I saw Caleb as was earlier today, when I last saw him.

His eyes are outlined with dark circles and he looks lost and lonely, as if I'm not there for him. I go up to him and pull up his sleeves. His arms are scarred with raw cuts and I see a little bit of his skin is still bleeding.

'Why did you do that?' I whisper.

'Why not? You do it,' he says.

'But...I...' I am unable to finish. I cannot argue with him as it is all true. I do cut myself. Regularly. Every day, even.

'Why did you do it? Was it my fault?' I say.

'No, but...you don't help,' he says.

I walk away from him, not wanting to start a fight.

My mental vision blurs again and I see myself when I looked into the mirror earlier. I look awful! My eyes are dark and misty, my nose is scratched, my mouth is cut, I have a bruise under my left eye. I look at my arms. Both of them are cut beyond belief, the new, raw cuts covering the old, pale-pink ones. My long, black hair falls limply around my waste, dry and lifeless.

'I hate my life,' I mutter to myself.

Then I close my mind's eye and set it back to sleep. I open my eyes and find that the rain has stopped and I am lying on the ground in a still-wet puddle. Everyone has gone. All I can see now is Jessa, Aoife and Caleb. But it's not enough...three people can't make me change the decision that could...the decision that will end my life!

'I'm sorry...' I say as I thrust the knife into my chest, ending everything. I see them all scream and panic as I die slowly...thou shalt not kill, said the lord. Thou shalt be proven incorrect.

© 2012 Clare Martin


Author's Note

Clare Martin
Please let me know what you think of this and let me know if you can relate.

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Added on December 3, 2012
Last Updated on December 3, 2012

Author

Clare Martin
Clare Martin

Cork, Mallow, Ireland



About
Hey, I'm Clare and I'm 13. I love reading and writing and I'm lucky because there are lost of teens my age that can't read or write. I love writing essays and reading in English. Don't worry about the.. more..

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