A Short Story

This is a story/essay that I wrote two years or so after being in a hospital for the mentally ill. I tried to take my life and this story is how I saw it in hindsight:

Those pills. They were all she needed to survive. They were also all she needed to die and frankly, the second option sounded better than the first. She looked at those five bottles and wondered which would be the most painless. Probably the melatonin**. It would just put her to sleep.
Her hands trembled as she reached over and took the small bottle off of her night stand. She struggled with the cap, twisting and twisting, until it finally fell open. Tears streamed down her face as she poured the contents of the bottle into her hand. Glancing over at the water bottle, she gave herself one last chance to stop all of this and throw the pills away.
No. She had to do this. It was the only way out.
One by one, she took a palm full of the pills. Relief flooded her body when they were finally gone. Then, like a strike of lightening, everything changed. Stronger than the relief she had felt seconds earlier, regret clenched her heart.
“I shouldn’t have done this,” she whispered.
Her hands were sweaty and shaking as she reached for her phone. Quickly, she unlocked it and dialed his number. He picked up after the second ring.
“Hello?”
Crying, she sat there without saying a word. She couldn’t muster up the courage to say what she had done.
“I’ll be right there.”
The line went dead. She laid back on her bed, sobs racking her body. He was going to be too late. Her eyes got heavy. She didn’t know how much time had passed when she heard her front door open. Footsteps were getting closer but the sound was fading.
He was yelling, but she couldn’t understand him. She closed her eyes, giving in as he shook her. Her head lolled to the side and he laid her down on the bed.

As much as this sounds like an ending, this is just the beginning.

**Author’s note: Turns out melatonin cannot kill you. It just puts you in a deep sleep.