Wall 1 Courtney Wall Randy Boone Creative Writing April 7, 2008 Memoir: Waking Up A Bright light seemed to surround

me, as I kept my eyes shut. Did I actually do it, did I make it to heaven, wait till St. Peter sees me, and he’ll send me right down to hell, that’s if it even exists. That’s what I thought to myself as I began to stir, I hurt all over, my chest, my arms, and everything seemed to ache. Maybe my body is still dying; maybe I am still lying in the bathtub, wrists still bleeding. The last thing I remember was finishing off the bottle. My arms bleeding into the white bath tub I laid in. I thought that alcohol and the sleeping pills were supposed to kill the pain, then why do I hurt all over. I begin to move a little, I can feel a bed beneath me, and I am starting to hear a steady beep that I don’t remember being there before. It sounds as if it is following a heart beat. Shit! I swore I wasn’t dead, I failed again. I finally open my eyes, and sure enough there around me are my parents, my sister, a doctor and a priest, thinking about it now, that all sounds like the start of a really bad joke, except this wasn’t a joke. I tried to kill myself and they were discussing the next step. My sister was the first to realize that I had opened my eyes and she began to cry. I guess they thought I was dead, or still a coma. I could feel the IVs in my body, seeing that I cut up my forearms pretty well they had to be creative and find other places to put them. I tired to swallow but my throat was sore and dry, it made me gag, and now everyone else

Wall 2 had realized that I was awake. I was awake, damn it what went wrong? I tried to replay the events in my head, but the priest just kept praying, and it was pissing me off. I was born and some what raised as a catholic, but I was no longer accepted in to god’s kingdom now that I was a suicide and I really did not want that damn priest in my room anymore. I looked at my sister and she came closer, and I whispered to her “get that fucking priest outta here”, she quickly obeyed and pushed him right out of the room and shut the door in his face. My mother and father just looked at me, as if they hadn’t expected anything less from me. The doctor leaned in close to me and began to tell me all that they did. He spoke slowly as if I was stupid or something, and with much effort and much pain, I flipped him off. It was then that my parents shook their heads at me. The doctor stood up and began speaking to me as if I had half a brain, I was suicidal not stupid. He told me that they pumped my stomach when they saw the bottle of pills, and they stitched my arms up, I had 50 stitches in each forearm, and I was considered lucky because I missed every nerve and everything possible. I had lost a lot of blood but my lovely parents had donated so that they could infuse me. O yea my lovely parents, the ones who drove me to this point, they only donated to look like good parents. No wonder Dad looks so drained, I thought. The stupid doctor went on to say that I was lucky that my sister found me when she did. Damn that was something I didn’t plan on, Kady wasn’t supposed to find me like this; she was supposed to go to her friend’s house. I should apologize to her for that. I only looked over to Kady and I could feel a tear drop roll down my check. The smell of the hospital started to sneak into my nose and I gagged again. My mom moved to my side

Wall 3 and gave me some water. They said I had been out for hours, and my throat hurt because I was in baited and the stomach pumping causes irritation to the throat. At this point I could only sip from a straw and nod to the doctor, I guess he got the hint I wanted him to leave, because he bowed out gracefully, and closed the door behind him. I looked around the room and waited for the fall out of what my parents had to say. It was quiet for a long time before my sister crawled into the hospital bed next to me and gave me a gentle hug, before she said “ Please Courtney, Don’t leave me, I need you to be here, you’re my sister and I Love You!” All I could do was cry at this point and my dad stood next to my mom down by my knee, he looked so old, and drained, and he had tears in his eyes. I can honestly say this was the first time I had seen my dad cry. I never got yelled at, I never got reprimanded, or scolded. My family just stood around me, and told me how happy they were that I was alive, and how relieved that I made it through, they wished that I would of come talked to them, but that now there will be time for that, because I was being admitted into a program. I am being admitted? Shit I never wanted to be put in a mental hospital, I’m not crazy, and I just hate life. Why? My dad told me that it was here in the hospital, and it would be for three months. I also had several court dates, and needed to see a therapist. I agreed to it all and began my slow and agonizing recovery.