Desperate Remedies

CONTENT WARNING: Suicide, Mental Health

The crisp night air nipped at her skin as she settled at the base of a large tree. Thunder rumbled in the distance, underlining the menacing nature of the task before her. 

She quivered with excitement. Finally, finally, it was over. A lifetime of abuse and suffering. A parade of worthless men who had fooled her into submission. A five year relationship with a loving partner that she was too afraid to end. 

She drew her breath, steadied her head against the trunk, and raised the gun to her temple, finger poised on the trigger. 

**

10 years earlier…

She stood in the middle of her dorm room, not comprehending her ex-boyfriend’s words. 

“Samantha and I are official,” he repeated flatly. 

“Wh…what?” she whispered, grinding her feet into the rough carpet. “Greg! We just broke up last week!”

“I wanted to be honest.” His face showed no emotion. 

“Honest?!” she exclaimed. She twisted her hands until they burned. How could Samantha betray her like this? They were best friends!

“We realized we’re in love, and we made this decision knowing you’d be hurt, but it’s the right thing to do. And I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Right thing!” Tears welled up inside her and she swallowed them. “Right thing! We were together for years. We were going to get married. That means nothing to you? You immediately fall for another girl?”

He looked at her, raking his hand through his luscious brown hair. “All I can say is that God’s been working here.” 

How dare he use God against her! Her eyes narrowed. “Leave. Now.” 

He turned and left without another word. She slammed the door behind him and screamed in agony, crumpling to the floor. A pain she had never known sliced through her like a knife and she felt it in every corner of her being. She slipped into unconsciousness, finding when she woke that she had stopped breathing. Choking on her tears, she gulped air and screamed again, writhing on the carpet. The torture was worse than any she ever could have fathomed. 

And in that moment, she swore she would never feel that way again. 

**

Present day…

Angry at herself for failing, for being incapable of seizing her freedom, she burst through the front door. Lightning crackled around her silhouette. Lying on the couch, Carter bounced, startled. He turned to look at her slim frame as she stormed into the kitchen, seizing a bottle of vodka on the top of the refrigerator. 

“We need to have a difficult conversation.” She downed a huge gulp of the liquor. Carter looked so foolish with his mouth hanging open, she thought. “This relationship isn’t working.”

Her partner’s face saddened. “Why not?” he asked quietly. 

“It’s just not!” She took another drink. “We’re no good for each other. You’re better off without me.”

He paused, gazing at her with gentle eyes. “I want to be with you.”

“Even if I only stay because I’m afraid of being alone?” She burst into tears. Her pale hand plunged into her bag and lifted out the gun, ready to try again. Carter snatched it from her grasp. She shrieked, frustrated. Where could she find a weapon? 

“Take me to my brother’s house!” she ordered. “I need to see my brother!”

***

Two years earlier…

She folded the last of the tent and stuffed it in a bag. Huffing from the exertion, she walked up the small hill to the car and deposited the tent in the back seat next to her presents. Behind her, Carter wrapped up garlands of fresh flowers. The day was warm and sunny, and the nearby creek babbled cheerfully. 

“This is the perfect camping spot.” She smiled at her partner. “Thank you for a wonderful birthday.” 

Carter grinned. “I’m glad you had a good time. I’ve been planning it for weeks.”

As they drove up the side of the canyon, he handed her his phone. “Will you put our home address into the GPS when we’re back in cell range?”

“Of course, baby,” she said warmly.  

A mile later, the phone began to buzz uncontrollably as a slew of undelivered text messages rolled in. One was from an unsaved number. She read the message preview to herself. 

r u back? ive been dying to nut in ur holes

Her heart skipped a beat. Carter was cheating on her? Surely not. He adored her. But if it was true…. Why would he need someone else?

“Why don’t you touch me anymore?” she asked quietly. 

Carter did not respond. The tires of the jeep crunched on the gravel road. 

After a few minutes she tried again. “You don’t even hug me.”

Still silence. 

“I’m afraid of rejection, I guess,” he said carefully. 

Her eyebrows shot up. “What makes you think I’d reject you? You’re my boyfriend.”

His answer did not come for several miles. Then: “I want to show you I love you but I don’t know how.”

“So touch me.”

He said nothing. Why wouldn’t he speak to her? 

“I’ve told you before,” she pointed out, “my love language is physical touch. Why do we keep having this conversation? If we’re going to get married one day, you have to be okay with my body.” Something occurred to her as she looked down at her pooch of a belly. “If I lost weight, would it help?”

Carter inhaled sharply. “Maybe.”

Within six months, she lost 100 pounds. 

He still would not touch her. 

**

Present day…

As she pulled a key from her purse, her brother opened the door. Seeing her tears, he opened his arms wide for a hug. 

“What are you doing here?” she cried. “You’re supposed to be on vacation! How am I going to get a gun now?!”

Exasperated, she stormed through the house into the backyard. A deafening thunderclap echoed her temper. Sheets of rain pierced her skin like needles, and she leaned into the pain.

“Come inside,” her brother’s firm voice came from behind her, “or I’ll call the police.”

“You–will–not!” she spat. 

As though to prove his point, he dragged her to her feet and marched her to the car. 

Suddenly she was leaning on him, stumbling through a parking lot. A glowing sign reading “Emergency Room” cast an ominous reflection on the wet pavement. 

**

6 months earlier…

She stared numbly at the eviction notice. “What’s this?” she asked. “You didn’t pay rent this month?”

Carter laid in his disheveled bed, his back to her. “I forgot.”

She sighed, irritated. “This is the second time we’re late with rent.”

“I can’t make myself get out of bed,” he protested, rolling over to face her. He hugged a pillow in both arms. She felt a prickle of jealousy, then chastised herself. Jealous of a pillow? How stupid. 

This relationship was deteriorating, she could feel it. Every day her fear of losing him grew. 

“You haven’t been going to work,” she said. 

“I got laid off.”

“You got fired,” she translated, “for not going to work.”

“I’ve just been so depressed ever since my uncle died.”

Immediately she felt remorse. If anyone could understand depression, it should be her. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized quietly. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“It’s okay.” He rolled back over. 

Her voice was gentle. “Will you go to the doctor if I find you one?”

Silence. 

This is just temporary, she told herself. Once he’s gotten help, things will be like they were before. 

It’s better than a breakup. 

**

Present day…

A blur of a white coat came into the room. 

“I’m Dr. Hayes,” it said. 

“I was going to be a doctor once.” Her head was throbbing; she gripped it with both hands.  “I was smart.”

“I see,” the blur continued without listening. “Do you know what day it is?”

What an ignorant question. “I don’t care.” 

“Do you know who the president is?” the blur persisted. 

“Presidents are dumb.” Why didn’t they give her some painkiller?

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because I was going to end myself and escape this rotten mess and people won’t let me.” The audacity of her brother and partner was astounding. How dare they assume she’s better off in this world?

“Did you have a plan?”

She formed a gun with her right hand, lifted it to her head and pulled the imaginary trigger, giggling. 

**

One month earlier…

She poked her head out the front door and choked on the thick air. Lounging in the hammock, Carter exhaled loudly, a cloud of smoke floating around him. 

“Are you going out to look for jobs today?” she prompted, batting away the skunky smoke with her hand. 

In response, he set down his Nintendo Switch and took a loud rip from his bong. “I can’t today,” he responded. “My anxiety is acting up.”

He didn’t look the least bit anxious, she thought, then continued. “You said you were going to do the dishes.”

“Anxiety. Also,” he added, “the new Dark Souls game just came out and it will be perfect for winding down.”

She wanted to smash his game console. She musn’t feel that way. He’s just depressed. When he sees a doctor, he’ll get better. She could wait for him. 

It was better than a breakup. 

**

Today…

She shuffled down the white hallway, hospital-issued socks scuffing the polished floor. The acrid smell of disinfectant stung her nostrils. Shivering, she withdrew her arms from the sleeves of the too-large scrubs they’d given her earlier and wrapped them around her small torso, trying to disappear from existence. 

Picking up the phone nailed to the cinder block wall, she dialed a familiar number. Warmth flooded her soul as Carter’s steady voice answered. “Babe, how are you?”

She paused, then responded:

“I don’t want to live my life without you.”