The whole world was red. It was everything surrounding me and controlling me. My vision was dark and my heart beat was slow. But all I could feel was red. Flowing red, shining like a ray of light, the red was everywhere. My hearing was the first sense to come back. I could hear the sound of my heart beating slowly and weakly. A gasp of breath filled my ears. It took me several moments to realize that it was my breath. It seemed so strange to know that the pained gasp came from my lungs. The air conditioner was running, and the hum became background noise in the chaos of my mind. The air was cold, and I could feel the warmth leaving my body.
I could not focus. My thoughts were sluggish like a wounded animal. Yet everything was still red. The smell hit me next. Metallic and salty, the smell smothered me with its presence. The air was full of the stench, and the stench was choking me. My whole life was red. I could faintly smell the air freshener that I had put in my room. The smell of cherry blossom was buried under the stench of red.
My vision came back slowly. The black spots faded one at a time. My room looked the same as it always had, but the atmosphere was different. There was something different in the air. I looked around my dark gray room trying to figure out what was wrong. A flash of silver on the floor caught my sight. To my slightly blurry vision it looked like a razor blade, half covered in the red.
The truth hit me like a lightning bolt. The truth of what I had done. The red that had become my world was blood. It was my blood surrounding me and smothering me. The feeling of my body came back to me next. Pain became my world. Everything became an overwhelming sense of hurt. It was not the pleasant hurt I had come to expect. It was not the pain that had controlled my life for so long. It was true pain. It felt like the world was ending, and for me maybe it was. Perhaps this was the end for me. I felt like I was drowning with no one there to save me. No one ever told me that death hurt so much. The stories made it sound so glamorous. It was all a lie. Death hurt worse than anything I had ever felt. More than all the heart-break I had felt in the few years of my life. Unending, like the ocean, the pain kept pulsing through my body.
I gazed at my wrist which was the origin of all the pain. The straight white lines that I had been so
proud of seemed to mock me. All I could think was why? Why did I do this to myself? It was hard for me to believe that I had thought the world was so terrible. All I wanted now was to live. To see the future I could have. A realization hit me; I would never turn eighteen. I would never get married nor have any children of my own. This thought filled me with an overwhelming sense of regret. The life I hated was a wonderful gift and I destroyed it. There was no saving me now; it was already too late for me.
That was when I heard a new noise. It was a sound that filled my heart with hope. It was the sound of a siren; the siren of an ambulance. Astoundingly, help was on the way. Maybe my life was not over. The constant mantra in my mind was, “Keep holding on. They are almost here. Just hold on for a bit longer and you will be okay.” Although I could still feel my life slipping away, I held on to the miniature piece of hope I had.
I heard the oak front door of my house crashing to the ground, and I thought I was saved. Yet my heart beat ever slower; my breathing became even more pained. The darkness slowly started to cover my vision. My last piece of hope slipped from my feeble grasp. The door to my room burst open and the paramedics rushed in. Unfortunately, they were too late. The breath left my lungs with a tiny gust. The last thing I saw before the darkness took over my mind was the look of sadness on the paramedic’s face.
John paused for a moment to catch his breath, “This book is so intense,” he thought. “I hope it ends
well.” At this point, John happened to look up, and he noticed the time on his small digital clock. “Shoot. I really need to get some sleep,” he thought drowsily . “I will finish this tomorrow.” John sleepily put the book on his night stand and turned off his bedside lamp. Immediately, he started to drift off into the land of dreams. His last conscious thought was, “I hope she lives.”