As the scars of the cuts that she had made on her arms healed, she wondered when and if her soul would heal as well. There are numerous suicide prevention helplines available everywhere but no one can tell you what to do once, due to the greatest of misfortune, you survive.
What now?
Where do I go from here?
What am I supposed to do?
How am I supposed to act?
Do things go back to normal?
Are they supposed to?
No one knows for sure.

As the scars healed, everyone around her assumed that she was healing within too. Quite the contrary, she didn’t even know where to begin.
The mind, the body and the soul can only take so much abuse, so much pain before it dhatters, before it disintegrates.

Having come to the end of her rope, she said goodbye to her friends, came “home” and swallowed as many sleeping pills as she could find. Alas, as she wasn’t meant to have aneasy life, she wouldn’t have an easy death either. While her parents walked away, her brother saved her life, much to her chagrin. She didn’t remember anything else from that dayexcept sleeping more peacefully, than she had ever slept.

Unfortunately, she opened her eyes the next day to this indescribable feeling of anguish that caused her physical pain, welling up in her chest and flowing from her eyes. Her tears fell silently, as her heart screamed, “They wont even let me die in peace.”

The only thing that calmed her was the thought of finishing the job. She held hersel together, dragged herself to the kitchen, took out the sharpest knife she could find and locked herself in her bathroom. It felt like she wasn’t in control of her body, as if it was acting of its own violation. Having never had the courage to cut herself before, the pain and the grotesque pleasure of the act was completely foreign to her. After inflicting a few minor cuts, she went to work on her verin, the one you’re supposed to cut in order to bleed out.

However, by then, with her arm full of cuts and gashes, the blade had dulled and she had to saw her wrist for the desired effect.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Blood gushing, she sawed until she could see the bone. Satisfied and weirdly fascinated with her work, like the masochist she is, she didn’t hear or maybe didn’t want to hear the pounding on the bathroom door. But, she did hear the lock click as someone from the outside tried to unlock the door. As desperate as a wild animal entrapped in a cage, she saw her window of opportunity close and in an effort to complete the deed, she slit her other wrist too, just as her brother barged in.

In the movies, everything that comes afterwards, passes away in a blur but she saw everything in the vividest of detail. Her brother held a shirt to her wrist in an attempt to stop the bleeding while calling his friend so that he could get her to a hospital. It was her favorite shit and it was soaked with blood even before his friend arrived. Taking her out to the car, sitting down next to her while telling her not to sleep, not to close her eyes, to hold on long.

Zoha Junaid

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