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Finding Life

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The warm water stung the cut. It was deeper than I thought. I dropped the razor blade and stared as the bath water turned red. The smell of iron filled the room. I felt dizzy. Then everything went black.
Let me go back. I never really considered suicide. And the fact of the matter is I didn’t really want to kill myself. I was fourteen. I had a lot to live for. But I’m one of those people who keeps their promises. No matter what. I had made a pact with my best friend, Jamie when he was diagnosed with brain cancer. If he died before we finished eighth grade, I would find a way to die too. I know that sounds stupid, but you may not have a friend like I did in Jamie. We were brothers. Who would take a bullet for each other. Go to detention for something the other one did. We were inseparable. Then last month, Jamie was diagnosed with cancer, and it was found so late that he died three weeks later. He never felt sick. He had headaches all the time. It made us all really scared. Then it got so bad one day, he collapsed in the hallway at school. That was the last time he ever went to school. When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed. My wrist was wrapped in a cotton pad. It stung a lot too. I looked up and my stepdad sat in a chair next to my bed.
“Chris?” I mustered. My throat was dry. I really needed a drink.
“Where am I?” he looked at me almost angry, but then he gained a depressed look. “Brenan, buddy your hear because you tried to slit your wrist.” It all came back. Jamie’s death, the red water, the razor. I couldn’t take it all. I just began to cry. Chris, to my surprise had his arms around me. He had never even touched me. He and my mom had been married since I was two. In all those years he never so much as high fived me. Now he was hugging me and I realized what it was I liked about him so much.

They let me go home in a few more days. As we were walking to the car, I dropped my sun glasses. “Hey, dad” I said. “Can you get them?” a smile came across Chris’ face. He had been trying to get me to call him dad for years but I never did. What I realized before was that my real dad cared less then my stepdad. That my real dad couldn’t care less. He even told me once during one of our fights that I was the “biggest mistake of his life.” I stopped visiting after that. Now eight months later, I’m a freshman in high school. The past seems so distant like years even. From now on, I will always look to the future. and, I will stay away from razor blades.





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