Thick layers of dust cake the ceiling fan blades as they lazily sway in a circle, drifting wafts of congested air to breathe in. A poster faces the floor while the bottom half remains tacked to the baby blue colored wall. Vacant noodle cups next to brown bottles cover the floor along with mounds of dirty clothes. A heavy red curtain drapes over the two windows blocking out the sun light.

Savanna tightens the stale blankets around her thinning body and arches her feet near her body, stiffening into a fetal position. Her hair is oily and has been unwashed for days, her once beautiful eyes seem more like excavated sockets haunted by ediolons. She reaches across the incommodious mattress and clutches her phone from the night stand. A glow from the light briefly reveals a ladder of crooked scars across her wrist.

Clicking the power button, a single text reads: Haven’t heard from you, you good?

A hoarse whisper slithers from the dark, “Tell him you’re fine.”

She texts back FINE then drops her phone onto the bed. A tear begins to roll down her cheek as she sits up. Her ribs push out stretching her skin that feels too tightly wrapped around her bones. Under her loose fitting shirt she wore no pants, just a pair of mismatch socks. Pink, faded lines curve across her rail thin thighs. She wasn’t fine, so badly she wanted to scream and shout, for anyone to do something. Yet all she could do was bottle the sadness and anger, until it overflowed in short bursts of regretful, painful actions. She slides the drawer open on her night stand and grabs a pocket knife. Beneath the coat of old blood was a veil of rust. She places it across one wrist and applies a light amount of pressure.

“I can’t do it,” she says turning her head.

“Allow me to help you, dear,” the voice in the dark responds. Two icy arms slide beside her waist and under her arms, making their way up to her shaking hand. The texture of the skin resembles a mixture of a galaxy stirred into oil, the touch is uncomfortable to feel against. A clawed hand gently wraps around Savannas wrist and bends it backwards. The other hand takes control of the blade and presses it down, hard enough to cut and divide the tender flesh in half. It slides across as blood trickles down to the crease of her elbow.

She bites her lip whimpering, “I can’t keep doing this.”

A second cut glides, deeper this time. Pain bands around her wrist in a locket of fire; she’s never cut this deep before.

“It’s what we know, what we do. Accept this, allow it to course through you. They don’t understand you like I do.”

Savanna takes the knife and makes another swipe herself. Her eyes reddening with tears, she drops the weapon as her wrist locks up, fingers twist into a fist as blood drains down her arm and onto her shirt laying on the carpet.

The nails drape her hair back and a cold feeling is pressed against her shoulder. “Rest for now, we’ll try again later.”

Brushing it off, she jerks out of bed and picks up a dirty shirt off the ground, using it as a tourniquet for her forearm. Biting down onto one end of the knot she pulls back with her teeth. The blood slows down but the throbbing pain continues on.

“I don’t wanna keep doing this. It-it’s not fair that this is what I have to feel! What did I do to deserve this?”

The dark figure positions itself on its knees in the center of her bed before leaning forward. Smiling widely it exposes brilliant teeth to match the milk white eyes. Sinewy strands of hair fall down past the shoulders, drifting with each step it takes. Getting closer to Savanna, it stands upwards and slides one leg off the bed before making its stance in front of her.

Two hands land on the teenagers shoulders and begins to caress them. Those lifeless eyes look into hers, then it speaks. “Who understands you like I do? I’m here for you, and this is what takes the pain away, remember?”

Savanna nods her head, arguing wouldn’t help or change anything. If anything, she would be convinced to do more, or willingly do it herself; at this point, was she even being forced to anymore?

She closes her eyes and allows the being to wrap their cold arms around her in a comforting hug, her heart begins to pound and suddenly the idea of death feels more welcome and warm, than anything else.

  • Advice from a pizza

    I liked this. Depression is a very harsh reality some unfortunately have had the displeasure of going through. Giving that state a physical existence, an incarnation, one that influences from the shadows and even physically intervenes was a nice touch.

    • Ray Ramirez

      It’s a rough thing to handle, I deal with it myself and one day thought of it as a being instead of just emotion and came up with this. I’m glad you liked it, thanks so much for your comment.

  • Puddin Tane

    I came very close to killing myself several times. The last time I almost succeeded. It was the thought of my son that saved my life. That’s the hard part, trying to find something worth fighting for. Because sometimes it may feel like we’ve lost everything. And when a person is depressed they just can’t see what is in front of them. People don’t seem to understand that. That’s mainly why I keep to myself.

    • Ray Ramirez

      I’m so sorry you went through that, no one deserves to feel that way or endure those emotions. If you need someone to talk to (I’ve tried it as well), you can e-mail me if you’d like. Don’t have to, but just know I’m here if you want to discuss anything or just vent.

      • Puddin Tane

        Thanks. It was quite a awhile ago. I’m doing much better. I have a real good therapist and a fur baby that makes smile every time I look at her. I keep thinking I could write all kinds of horror stories just on my life alone, but then I really can’t be bothered. No one wants to hear it, and, I’m not sure I want to tell it. But that’s ok. Hey, thanks for listening.

        • Ray Ramirez

          You ever feel like talking about it I’ll gladly hear you out. I’m glad you’re doing better though. And of course.

  • Jay

    There’s always someone or somthing that can cure depression instead of welcoming something dark find a cure

    • Ray Ramirez

      I feel like it’s different for everyone, some people have a harder time dealing with it than others. Plus I don’t feel that anyone should just accept it without fighting, it was just how the character felt in the story. But you’re right no one should just accept that.

  • Shroomgrl

    Suicide being a permanent fix to a temporary problem….that saying saved me. its easy for people to say oh just get over urself, move on, keep busy. The truth is depression is a sickness that has different symptoms for different people, hense there being different healing methods for different people…im sry to all who have or are going through this. Truth be told…i dnt think it ever goes away u just learn or figure out ways to not let it win..only my own experiences speaking. Great story though….very deep one that hit home for me…thanx for being truly loved it!!!

    • Ray Ramirez

      I agree, I don’t think it ever goes away but it can be dealt with. It can’t always win, I’m glad you made it through hard moments. And thank you so much for your kind words 😊

  • Psynderis

    I honestly can’t find the words to tell you how great this one is. Unfortunately, I know that feeling all too well. I very much liked how you had her say she didn’t want to anymore but did anyway. That resonated with me a lot because I’ve felt that exact way many times throughout my life. This was extremely well done.

    • Ray Ramirez

      Thanks so much. I deal with it and it’s hard to explain to someone who’s never felt it, so it was just something I wrote a long time ago just to kind of show how it makes you feel.