She dropped it. It hit the bathroom floor with a clatter, but she hardly heard it. Her ears where swimming with guilty, sinful voices. She blinked to keep back tears as she pressed her palms to the sink. She didn’t dare look in the mirror. She didn’t dare look at her leg or wrist. Her imagination was acting up, making it so she could smell it coming out of her, so strongly that she wanted to vomit.

Tears peeked through as she stood over the toilet, blood and bile staring up at her. Her hair dangled in front of her face, damp with sweat, as she continued heaving up nothing, trying to get the sharp, too strong smell of blood out of her nose.

She grabbed the air freshener and sprayed it, but still it wouldn’t go away. She had left a trail of bright, red dots around the bathroom as it slid down her leg and dripped off her wrist. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at them, the physical pain even more sickening. She didn’t understand why she kept resorting to this.

The razor remained where it had fell, looking so innocent in its pink color. She cursed at it, black and grey tears racing down her face. Sobs stopped in her throat, like they couldn’t get through.

With another curse word she ran her hand across the counter, wiping her toothbrush, contacts, hair products, nail polish- everything off until they all fell and clattered to the ground, almost in sync.
She was done. She was cut with the blood and the vomit and the feelings in general. She flew open the door and raced to where her dad hit the medicine. He thought she didn’t know, but she knew everything.

She reached down below his pile of sweatshirts in his closet when a hand touched hers. She tried shaking it off. She didn’t want a pity party, or reprimanding from whomever it was touching her. She wanted to slip all of this Advil down her throat and be done.

“Stop” she didn’t hear it. She was digging madly, her face transforming into a horror movie mask.

“Laurel!” she grabbed the bottle, filled to the top, unopened. It was her chance. She barely heard herself scream at the person to get away as she uncapped it. Her guilt, anger, anxiety and pure pain were taking on a life of itself climbing to her brain, controlling her.

Her eyes were closed as she felt herself hit the ground with a thud. “What the…!” she started to scream, seeing the small tablets spilled all over the carpet.
And her best friend, Kayla, right there, holding the bottle. Tears dripped from Kayla’s own eyes.

She stood up and smoothed her hair back. Kayla had only tackled her to save her.
She had already started picking up the peach colored circles off the carpet. She put them back in the bottle, and chucked it out the window, wordlessly.

“Give me your razor, Laurel.”
The pink devil was placed in Kayla’s palm. That, too, flew out the window.

“You’re so selfish.” Kayla told her, her voice cracking. “What if you had done it? What if I hadn’t found you?”
She was silent.

“You would have ruined me, Laurel. You would have put more pain in me than you ever had in you. I’m sorry your mad at your family, I’m sorry you think they hate you, but Laurel, they’d miss you like crazy. We all would.” Kayla covered her eyes with her hands, sobbing. “You are so freaking selfish. Did you consider life after death? Where would you go? Do you want to sit in hell and burn?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry?” Kayla questioned, “I’m sorry means you won’t do it again. I’m sorry means that you…”

“Kay.”

“Laurel.”
They locked eyes.

“You’re my best friend, Laur, and if you killed yourself I’d be my fault. Suicide isn’t something you play with. Neither is cutting.”

She wedged herself into Kayla’s arms. Kayla kissed the top of her head. “You need help.”

“Fine.” She said, quietly.

“I love you.”
Laurel drew back and looked at Kayla. She had really hurt her, by that one little action. “I love you, too.” She turned her back to her friend. “You saved my life today.”
And she put her hands over her face and cried.