No More (Short Story)
Updated: Nov 12, 2019
Credit: Complete the Story by Piccadilly
She had never felt so free, so sure. From this great height, everything was clear. All she had to do was jump and everything would be better. No more arguing with everyone all the time. No more feeling like she was worthless. No more crying herself to sleep at night. No more feeling like there was nothing she could do to fix the problems she had somehow caused. No more feeling exhausted all the time. No more anything. Nothing at all. That's exactly what she wanted. Just... no more. She wanted herself to be nothing, that way she couldn't hurt anyone anymore.
But did she really not want to hurt anyone anymore, or did she want revenge on everyone? Not just the people who made fun of her in high school. Not just the people who ignored her or said she was only looking for attention. Revenge on the voices in her head because she would be taking them with her when she went? Did she really want everything to end, or did she want everyone to miss her when she was gone? Would anyone miss her when she was gone? Would they regret all the things they said both to her face and when they thought she wasn't listening? Were they saying things? Or was it the voices again? Was she paranoid, or was her family really that mean? Did they love her, or was she just too much to handle? Was she wanted, or was she just too much to deal with? Did they really want her gone, or did she just want to be gone? Did she really want to die?
The thoughts began to muddle in her head again. Even this great height and the fresh, clean air were making her head spin. It wasn't the walls of the hospital after all. It was really all in her head. She realized she couldn't trust her own mind. There was nothing she could do and the medicine wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? She had been taking it every day for nearly a month. Yes, the doctors told her it would take six weeks before it started working the way it was supposed to. But, how can something not work after four? Yes, she had her moments when things were fine, when she was okay, but apparently this was not one of those moments.
A voice rang through the mist and fog in her mind. She couldn't tell if it was real or not. The wind had picked up. But, it didn't matter who it belonged to, because it told her to step off the ledge. It was a voice of reason from somewhere. Maybe her own, she didn't know.
So, she stepped down, no longer looking at the sidewalk ten stories below herself. She began walking to the door which lead back inside. It was propped open, which she can't remember doing but it was possible. She was in a bit of a fog when she came up here. Or maybe it was the person going down the stairs three floors below her. She could hear the steps. But, for all she knew it could have just been someone else trying to sneak out, which happened a lot. Everyone always got caught, though, so she assumed she had been, too.
She crept down the stairs to her floor on the second floor and walked back down the hall to her room. She vowed to try the meds for two more weeks to see if they would work like they were supposed to and let herself fall asleep.
When she woke, she was in her hospital scrubs again, the ones they'd provided on intake. What she wasn't wearing was the jeans and sweatshirt she had been the night before on the roof. Where had she gotten those anyway? They had taken those clothes from her when she had been checked in from the emergency room a month ago.
She checked through her belongings. None of those clothes were there, just like they hadn't been when she had gone to bed.
Was it a dream?