Then There Was You(33)

With that knife I could have ended it right then and there. I could have made it all go away. I could go to sleep forever and never be disrupted again. The glinting metal beckoned me, and I couldn’t help but reach into the door pocket for it.

Turning the knife over in my hand, I examined the beauty of the stainless steel handle. I flipped open the blade, eyeing the deliciously sharp beveled edge. I didn’t intend to kill myself, so what would be the harm in just touching the knife to my skin?

I considered how easy it would be. With one hard swipe across my wrist, it would all be over, but I wasn’t ready to go that far. Placing the edge of the blade against the delicate skin of my wrist, I felt the urge to slide it gently across my skin, curious to see what it felt like.

Would it hurt? Would it sting? Would be quick and painless?

Would it bleed a lot? Get all over my jacket? Make a big mess?

Would I even care?

I wasn’t sure about any of that. I just knew that I needed to feel something—anything. I needed to give life to the pain I endured deep inside. I needed hard proof of the cankerous emotions that festered in my soul.

With a controlled flick of my wrist, I instantly felt the white hot burn from the blade as it sliced ever so slightly into my skin. Not enough to do any real damage, but just enough to give release to the ache in my heart. God, it felt so good. With every pulse of blood that leaked out, my emotional pain slipped away. Adrenaline coursed through my body as I laid the knife in my lap and smeared the blood across my skin.

My heart pounded in my chest. It was the first time in months that I’d felt truly alive. Knowing the restraint I’d used in barely piercing my skin gave me a sense of control over my life, while the stinging pain gave me a reason to cry—a real reason to shed tears uncontrollably—until my tears ran dry and my head pounded from the dark, emptiness that was still lingering inside of me.

And that’s when I realized that I really didn’t feel any better.

I knew I had to get my mind right before I headed through the doors for work. I couldn’t tell anyone what I’d just done. They’d send me straight to a psych ward. I might lose my job. Quickly grabbing a napkin and dabbing the blood, I jerked the sleeve of my shirt down to hide my secret.

God, I’m so selfish. I could never really kill myself. What would happen to Alexis? I’m a mother, for Christ’s sake. My life isn’t just about me anymore.

That revelation was amazing and devastating at the same time. I had a child that depended on me and needed me to be there for her, but at the same time, by creating a life I destroyed a life. Everything I knew about my life before Alexis had been ripped away from me because the moment she was born, everything changed.

My life isn’t just about me anymore… dammit.

I folded the knife and threw it back into side pocket. What was I thinking?





Later that morning, I sat at my desk, softly tracing the wound on my arm. I was a wreck… a sleep-deprived, maniacal wreck. No amount of makeup concealer could hide the dark circles below my eyes. I knew I was on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown.

What the hell was I thinking?

I didn’t hear him open the door. I didn’t see him standing there. I had no idea how long he’d been watching me.

Chris’s voice cut through the silence. “What happened?”

I instantly jerked the sleeve of my shirt down and pulled my hand off my desk, lowering it out of sight.

A momentary flicker of awareness crossed his face. He stared at me, suspicious. “What happened?” he repeated. The rasp in his voice was startling.

“I… I…” I couldn’t formulate a lie fast enough. My worst fear of someone finding out was coming true, and the guilt was written all over my face. I gulped.

“Mrs. Honeycutt, did you…?” He was stunned, unable to finish his question. His chest rose and fell, shallow with realization. He stared at me with scared, wide eyes. Desperately seeking a solid answer, he asked more firmly, “Did you do that?”

I couldn’t lie, but I couldn’t tell the truth either. I couldn’t look him in the eye. When I didn’t answer him right away, I could tell that he knew by his expression of horror. My gaze abruptly dropped to the floor, hanging my head in shame.

Why did he have to walk in? Why did I do something so stupid?

I heard soft steps approach me. Before I could react, Chris was by my side peering up at me as he knelt down beside my office chair. My eyes stayed glued to the floor, my guilt a constant thump in the pulse of my neck.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to coax the words out of me. He only placed his hand on my shoulder to comfort me. I squeezed my eyelids shut, unable to shake the look of fear that came over his face when he’d realized what I had done.