Worlds Apart First Entry

by Mark Mangum

December 14th, 2007

I woke to a low beeping sound, slowly I gathered my wits, and realized that I was in a hospital bed.  It all rushed back to me what had happened and why I was here.  I don't really remember what I had been thinking when I went into the bathroom at Monica's apartment, but I knew that I had a purpose.  I had been incredibly sad, and all I could think about was when I was raped and beaten by those jocks outside of the night club a few weeks earlier.  I remember that I had lit some candles and drawn a bath.  Monica, I knew wasn't going to be home for hours, so it had to be now.  I went into my room and grabbed some of my drawings, and a razor blade.  I had begun cutting myself to relieve some of the emotions.  It was odd how a little bit of physical pain would wash away the emotional pain for a time.  This time; however, I knew that I would not be coming back out of there.  I had made my decision and at this point, I felt that I didn't have any other options available.  So as I slipped off my clothes and climbed into the bathtub, I clutched onto the drawings, hoping that maybe I could escape to one of the worlds I had created in them.  The water was very warm as it slid around me like a magical glove taking away the doubts that I may be doing the wrong thing.  I picked up the razor blade, and set the drawings down around the tub, encircling myself with these worlds that I had created.  Slowly I ran the razor down my left forearm dragging it deeper and deeper into my skin.  I watched as the blood welled up, and switched hands.  I repeated the same ritual on my right forearm, and then dropped the razor to the side of the tub, as I did a few drops of blood fell to the floor and onto my pictures; I sat there in awe at the thought that ink blots had never been quite as colorful.  I immersed my hands in the water, my pulse quickened and I felt it throbbing in the mad gashes that I had created in my wrists and forearms.  I slowly began to drift away, at first there were colors swirling about like the colors in my drawing of the Emerald City, then blackness consumed the vision.  In the last couple of second before I passed out I thought I had heard the door to the apartment shut, but I couldn't have been sure.
Apparently Monica had come home early, though, otherwise, I would not be here lying in a hospital bed, with the whir of the air, and the low beeping sound that I knew now was the heart monitor.  There was a stir in a chair next to me, and I slowly opened my eyes to find her sitting there.  I watched her for a few moments fuss with the pillow that she had under her head as she readjusted herself and the blanket she had over her before I spoke.  "Monica", I said softly, it was incredibly hard to speak for some reason.  She was startled for a moment, then “Lucas, the doctors didn’t expect that you would be awake so soon” she said.  I could see the tears welling up in her eyes.  Even though it had seemed like such a good idea when I tried to commit suicide, I had not thought of those around me that actually cared.  I suddenly felt very selfish.  I had only cared about myself when I had made that decision.  I had not once thought of Monica and the effect that it would have on her.  Now I felt as if I were worlds apart from the person that had gone into that bathroom with the intention of not coming out again.  I had changed in that brief moment between life and death, something in me had become stronger but still not quite ready to deal with the life I had ahead of me.  “Thank you Monica”, was all I could muster before I fell back to sleep.


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