The Promise

The first thing she showed him was a clear, plastic bag. It was filled with a variety of pills, probably medications she’d randomly pulled out of the cabinet the night before. He had no idea what any of them did, but he was pretty confident the result of taking them all at once would definitely be lethal. And well, here she was, having been carrying death in her backpack all day.

This innocent girl who he’d never seen cry a single tear, never seen hurt in the two years he knew her…

There was an unbearable silence that cursed them for two minutes. What was there to say?

He slowly reaches over and gently takes the bag of pills from her.

“You can’t do this,” he says. But he knew he was wrong. She could do it if she decided to. There wasn’t anything stopping her. The only thing he could do was try to convince her not to.

It’s important to understand that in modern times, suicide by overdosing on medications has become drastically and disturbingly more common. There is a horrific irony in killing yourself by using something designed to make you feel better.

“Promise me you won’t do this,” he says to her.

She laughs. She actually laughs! “What the hell is this?” he thinks. There’s no way anyone could actually find this funny! Unless…

Maybe that wasn’t it. Because from that laughter, came tears. A laughter for the irony, and tears for the pain. There’s no way he’d ever understand her, and her hatred for herself and her life. He’d never understand her pain, and the scars she bared. He’d NEVER understand the torture of this life! And he’d NEVER–

“You are loved by more than you know.”

He’d never… he’d… what? No…

“I promise you that.”

She didn’t think anyone loved her. She never had. It couldn’t be possible.

“You have your close friends here.”

But he was right, of course. Why was he always right?

“You have those in your family that care, too. And even those not with us still love you. Love overcomes death, it’s a fundamental law.”

Could her parents really still love her? Her father had left the family, and her mother had left the world.

“We’re all here for you. Especially me.”

A silence that lasts an eternity.

She speaks.

“I promise.”

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3 thoughts on “The Promise

      • Definitely. I know people who have, but no one notices. It’s funny how, to stay sane, you have to ignore bad things until they finally get close to you. The only thing is, you should never let that ignorance become oblivion.

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