This imagine includes self harm and suicide references. It is not meant to romanticise either thing in anyway, and if you are going through either of these things, please feel free to message me anytime.
Um yeah so I wrote this imagine because I was reading some other ones and got inspired, plus there’s nothing better to do between midnight and five in the morning. I’ve never written one before, so tell me if it’s really bad,
Everything’s Not Alright:
So this is it.
I can feel myself growing weaker and weaker. I want to phone for help.
No, this is what’s best for everyone.
I look over to where the note I scrawled earlier lies in the sink, along with the blood stained blade that was clasped in my hand until my hand was too weak to grip it, and it fell on top of my note to Vic. I didn’t want the note make me sound weak, or attention seeking, or selfish, or anything really, I just had to explain. He deserved that at least.
It wasn’t that I thought he’s miss me. I mean, it would shock him, and he would be upset initially. But he could do better. He could do so much better - everyone could. They’d all be better off without me.
So I kept the note simple.
‘Vic,I know you must have some understanding of how I feel, I hear you sing about this kind of thing a lot, I know how you’ve felt, and I’m so glad that’s all behind you now. You’re gonna do so great baby, you’ve still got so much left to give, and I don’t want to hold you back. I can’t hold you back. And that’s why it’s okay that I go. Please don’t feel like you should’ve done something, because I want you to know that you did. You did everything. You were the one person who made me feel beautiful once again. Even if it was just temporarily.I love you so much, and if I mean anything to you, sorry but I’ve made up my mind x’
The pills have begun to kick in, I feel so drowsy now, barely able to keep my eyes open, or focus my mind clearly on anything. Although there is one thing that keeps re-surfacing. I can’t help remembering Vic’s face, when he saw my cuts for the first time, after he came back from a gig one night. I think he genuinely cared.
Have I done the right thing? Should I not have taken them?
No, it’s okay, he’ll be okay. He’s strong, and he doesn’t need something like me holding him back. He almost didn’t play his show tonight because he’d been worried about me. Well that will be okay now, he won’t have to worry again. He’ll be free. I’ll be free.
I’m in that twilight zone now. I’m not quite here.
I can hear my heart beat, getting louder and louder. Or is it footsteps coming up the stairs?
Crash. The sound of the bathroom door slamming into the wall behind it made it clear. Vic was home. Shit. I’d hoped to not have to be awake when he got back, but as soon as he came into view, my brain welcomed the image of his soft face.
’Fuck. Babe, what’ve you done? Wha’. He whispered, because his voice wasn’t quite there. He couldn’t even finish his sentence before his trembling lip lead to a full break down into tears. He leant over me, placed an arm beneath my knees, and one behind my back and left arm, and scooped me up and out of the empty bath, clutching me close.
My drowsy eyes looked up into his, I recognised the desperation. When he spoke this time, it was barely audible, but easy to read on his lips. 'Why?’.
As he came close to breaking down again, I could feel his body quivering underneath me. He lay me down on the floor softly, before the quivering became more rapid, and he started shaking uncontrollably.
*Vic’s Point of View*
I couldn’t control my breathing, it was rapid and uneven. Why had she done this to herself? How had she done this? How had she carved so many deep cuts into her beautiful body?
Looking around for help, my eyes found the empty pill bottle that had been flung across the floor. As the adrenaline pumped through my body, I sat her up and pressed my fingers to the back of her throat, but she was too drowsy to react. I can’t give up. I begin to pat her increasingly harder on the back, and ram my fingers towards the back of her throat this time. I hesitate for a split second each time I do it, I don’t want to hurt her, I can’t stand being so forceful to something so delicate, but there’s no other way, she needs this to stay alive. I look down at her with such desperation, and yet again force my fingers deep into her mouth, and this time she gags. With sign of hope, I quickly repeat my actions, and finally she wretches, bringing up the contents of her stomach.
*Normal Point of View*
I suddenly begin to feel a lot more real, like I’ve been pulled back into the world. Why? Why did he do this? Couldn’t he see that this was what was best for him? I couldn’t have him constantly worrying about me when I wasn’t with him, that’s no life, and he deserved better. So why would he do this?
He’s still being quite rough with me, after I finish gaging, he cleans me up and lifts me to sit on the edge of the bath, resting me against the wall for the brief moment he turns his back on me, his hand never leaving mine. With his other hand, he quickly reaches into the cupboard and grabs a bottle, spins back round and empties the contents onto my arms, thighs and sides. The pain that had begun to fade with the drowsiness gushes back through my body, into each individual gash. My body jumps as I tense up and yell out in pain, but he grabs me and pulls me in close. After the initial flood of pain subsides, I relax my body a little, and Vic leans me back up against the wall. He says something as he rushes out of the bathroom, but I don’t pay much attention. I feel so exhausted and weak, emotionally and physically. I close my eyes. Vic comes racing back into the room with a huge roll of soft white bandages, and, more gently this time, approaches me and begins to lift my arm and wrap it carefully. Each time I wince he pauses and looks at me apologetically, and each time I give him a weak smile, to let him know I’m okay.
He tends to each part of my torn flesh, then, being careful to avoid touching any of the wounded areas, he lifts me and carries me through to our bedroom.
He lies me down, pulls the blanket up from the bottom of the bed, then wraps my body with his, gently kissing the back of my head.
I close my eyes, and fall asleep almost immediately.
The few times I wake up, I look around, panicked, but Vic’s still right there, wide awake, holding me tight.
The next day, I wake up late in the afternoon, and hear Vic talking to someone downstairs, he sounds as though he’s crying.
By the time I gather up the strength to sit up, and get out of bed, Vic has come in, his phone in his hand.
I smile at him, and he rushes over and sits me back down, he can see I’m trembling with the effort of standing.
'Who was that on the phone?’ I ask.
'Oh, you heard? I wasn’t sure that you were awake.’
'I only heard you just as you were hanging up’.
He looks at the floor, then up at me. 'It was Tony,’ he says, 'he says he’s coming over to see how you are. He was, uh, devistated when I told him.’
'You told Tony?!’ I wasn’t annoyed at Vic, but Tony had been my best friend since we were kids, and he’s already dealt with enough of my shit.
'All the guys knew what I suspected when I left the gig last night, I’m sorry. I did try and tell him you probably wouldn’t be up for seeing anyone, but he said he had to see you. He sounded desperate.’
'It’s okay Vic, it’ll be okay seeing him. I guess I’ll have to clean myself up a bit then’, I say, as I glance in the mirror on the wall. 'I look like utter shit.’
He’s about to say something, when I stand up, and with all the strength I can gather, walk across to my dressing table, and pick up my hairbrush. I begin to lift the brush to my head, but my arms feel so heavy today. Seeing me struggle, Vic comes over.
'Here,’ he says, as he sits me down on the floor at the end of the bed, and he sits on the bed. Then he carefully takes the loose bun which he must have tied last night, unties the band, and begins to brush my hair gently. I let my head fall back onto his lap as he continues to brush my hair slowly, and after a while, I feel him begin to tremble.
Although I’m facing away from him, I can feel him crying. Here it comes. 'Why did you do it babe?!’ he blurts out. I begin to tremble as well, and tears fill my eyes, but I remain silent. 'I don’t… I can’t… I mean… What if I’d got home five minutes later? What if you’d taken the pills five minutes earlier? What if you’d done something that killed you instantly? I just can’t help thinking about all these what ifs!’
I want to say something, I want to explain, but I can’t. The back of my throat starts to sting, and no words come out. But then, all of a sudden, my words find me again.
'I couldn’t do it anymore! I couldn’t live my life watching you be, well, you, and know that you had to put up with me everyday. You’re beyond perfect and I don’t even compare to you, and if you weren’t going to let me break up with you for your own sake, I had to find another way of freeing you!'
His hands had stopped brushing my hair now, and he pulls his legs up into his chest and rests his head into his knees. It was obvious he was in floods of tears, but I couldn’t face him, I couldn’t see him like that, it would break me.
'You don’t need to be perfect, because you’re perfect for me! I don’t go out with you because I feel sorry for you, or because I feel like I can’t break up with you, or because you’re best friends with Tony, or for any other reason, it because I’m so fucking deeply, madly, stupidly in love with you okay?!’ He was yelling pretty loud, and he realises. His voice becomes more gentle as he slides down onto the floor next to me, and touches my cheek for me to look at him. 'I’m so fucking in love with you, and I couldn’t live if anything happened to you.’
'I’m sorry,’ I whisper through my tears, and he pulls me in close and presses his face against mine.
*A couple of hours later*
The doorbell rings, and Vic gets up from lying behind me on the sofa. I hear him unlatch the door, and as soon as it opens, Tony throws himself into Vic’s arms, giving him a reassuring hug. Their hug lasts for at least a minute, then I hear Tony ask where I am. He runs through to the sitting room doorway, where he sees me, and stops. We make eye contact, and I can see the sadness in his eyes. He walks across the room, and as I sit up, he flings himself around me. I wince as the cuts in my body twinge, but smile. He holds me tight, like he has so many times before, then, when he eventually pulls back, looks me straight in the eye, and smiles. 'Im so glad you’re okay’. He kisses me on the forehead, then rejoins Vic, who was stood watching from the doorway.
As I lie back down, I can hear them talking in the kitchen, they both sound so emotional, I can’t believe I did this to them.
That night in bed, I roll over to face Vic, who’s eyes are closed, but I know he is awake.
'I love you so much.’ I whisper. His eyes remain closed, but he smiles. 'I love you too babe, more than you could ever imagine.’