Everyone wants a reason. Everyone assumes there’s a reason. Some grandiose explanation that made me decide, once and for all, to end it. Just one big game changer. But there isn’t; just a thousand small reasons I don’t remember. A thousand meaningless reasons that lead me to try, and fail, to kill myself four times. Nor do I have an excuse for why I’m sitting next to my windowsill, deciding whether or not I should try for a fifth time.
“Hey baby,” her voice calls from the doorway.
But I’m pretty sure she has a lot to do with it.
My gaze is out the window, the sun had set hours ago, just a starless black sky. Briefly, I consider opening the window but thought better to wait. It’s still cold for April and I wanted to stay warm as long as I could.
“Go away,” I tell her, not looking at her, not wanting to look at her.
“I live here.” Her voice is still soft and sweet as the “hey baby” in the doorway, but the edge is developing.
“No, you don’t.”
“That’s more of an opinion, don’t ya think?”
No response. She walks over and kneels besides me, running her fingers through my hair. I don’t flinch away.
“What’s the matter baby?” she coos into my ear, soft and sweet.
“You know what’s the matter.”
“You should do it.”
Finching, I allow myself a peek at her. She’s grinning at me, crystal clear, real and solid. I’m in trouble.