Work Text:
Ryman laid down on her bed, looking up at the ceiling. Bottles of liquor surrounded her bed and it was evident that she was pretty drunk. She had been crying for hours on end and her mind felt numb. It had been like this every night for her, ever since she found her ex boyfriend, Sergiy, cheating on her. She had been alone her whole life; her mother was often absent, her father was an alcholic, and she never had any true friends. The closest she'd ever been to anybody, prior to Sergiy, was a few friends. She later found out that those friends spread harmful rumors about her, and it outcasted her from the rest of her peers. She seem to be alone forever, until she met a certian guy. She met Sergiy at a bar, and they hit it off instantly. After only a few days of talking, they decided to date. Unfortunately for Ryman, her lack of experience in relationships, made her overlook Sergiy's playboy attitude. She was too blinded by the fact that somebody cared (or atleast seemed to) for her to realise it. To her despair, she found him hooking up with other girls at the same bar they first met. It sendt her down a spiral of self isolation and alcholism. She completely disconnected herself from the outside world. But for Sergiy, it didn't effect him one bit, he didn't even feel bad about cheating. He was a piece of shit afterall.
Memories flashed through her mind as the last few tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted to do something different that night. The constant cycle straved her from entertainment and it was starting to bore her. She got up from her bed and started to walk around her apartment. The rooms of her apartment were small and quite flimsy in terms of quality. Her complex wasn't in the best part of town and it was basically a safe haven for addicts of all kinds. The hallways constantly smelt of cheap liqour; some of the smell even coming from her own apartment. She walked around aimlessly, trying to find something to entertain herself. Minutes passed, and she eventually came to her bathroom.
There seemed to be nothing, but she looked around in the cabinets. She pulled out a small box from under her sink and opened it up. Inside was just a bunch of junk, most notably a half empty box of cigarettes and a lighter. She took one of the cigarettes to her mouth and lighted it up. It had been a couple of months since she last smoked and she kinda missed the feeling of it. It wasn't enough to cure her boredom, so she continued to shuffle through the box. Ashes started to form at the end of her cigarette, but she forgot to think about an ashtray. In a hurry to find a substitute, she took off the lid of pill bottle and put it on the ground. Her fingers took out the cigarette and knocked the ashes into the lid. Maybe plastic and fire wasn't the best combination, but she couldn't really care.
She looked down at the bottles of pills she took the lid from. It was a bottle of prozac that she'd been prescribed a month ago. The half green, half white pills stared back at her, tempting a thought in her mind. What if she just ended it all right then and there? She had nothing and nobody to live for, no family, no partner, no friends, she was a loner. She probably wouldn’t go to heaven, but hell would be more blissful than Earth. All it took was for her to gobble down the pills and wait for them to take affect...
She grabbed a cup and filled it with tap water. Two pills were placed at the back of her throat and she washed them down with the water. When she finished, she sighed and stood still for a second. Was this really what she wanted? She stared at the pills again and hesitation started to creep up on her. Was she really gonna kill herself over a heartbreak? She took the bottle and looked directly into it. After a momment of indecisiveness, she decided. No, she wasn't going to die, not like this.
She picked up the makeshift ashtray and emptied it out a small window in the bathroom. The lid was put back on to the bottle and the pills were placed back into the box. She looked through the box again, hoping to find something new. After a few seconds of looking through it, she found a pack of unopened razors. She knew that she didn't want to die, but she wanted to hurt herself somehow. With hesitation, she took out one razor from the pack and unwrapped it. She took the razor and sat down ontop of her toilet lid. The hem of her pants were pulled down, and she lifted up her skirt. She looked down at her bare thighs, which were covered in scars. It had been 3 years since she last cut herself. She vowed to never do it again, but now she was here, sitting in her bathroom.
The razor hovered above her skin and with a swift move, she made a long horizontal cut. Beads of blood rushed out from it and she watched them run down her thigh. She took the razor and placed it on another area. This time she pressed harder onto the blade, and it resulted in the cut being much more bigger than the last. The white layer of skin peeked through the cut and blood came slowly. She took the blade and slashed the wound again, this time making it deeper. This repeated, until she saw yellow bubbles beneath the white layer. It hurt like hell, but she knew that it'd go numb after this layer. With a hard press and shaky hands, she cut the wound into the fat layer. Blood gushed out hastily, fuck she'd hit an artery or vein of some sort. She took a towel to try to stop the bleeding, but it kept going. Her head, already numb from the alcohol before, felt even dizzier as the affects of blood loss started to kick in. The white towel she held turned almost completely red. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She knew she wasn't going to die, but the blood loss made her feel like shit.
20 minutes passed, and the blood eventually came to a stop. She felt relieved, but something told her that she needed to do it again. Do it again, and deeper this time. It was idiotic, she had just felt like fainting a couple of minutes ago, and now she wants to do it again? How much of a retard was she? But the feeling overwhelmed her, and with a long sigh, she looked down at her thighs again. It was an absolute mess; blood was stained everywhere, the towel she had was soaked in crimson, and the razor blade's edges were smered in blood. She picked up the blade again and put it above the previous incision. Without a second thought, she slashed the wound. Now another white layer was showing, but it wasn't the one from before; it was so much deeper. The major artery that was located in her inner thighs, was almost completely cut off. She tried to keep herself conscious, but it was a loosing battle. Blood pooled beneath her as her body became limp. Everything went black and the last thing she saw was the razor blade in her hand slipping out.
She barely woke up as she heard the sound of paramedics taking her into an ambulance. Somebody had somehow found her and called an ambulance. Her consciousness only lasted a few seconds as the sounds slowly faded away again. The last thoughts that ran through her mind, were prayers that she'd survive.