Adrift

          It'll be the last. Of course, it'll be the last. I'll make sure of it this time. Doors locked. Towel in my mouth. The tool. The main tool.  The key to finally getting it all done.           *Phone pings*          *Pings again*           s**t. Months of preparation and now it's ruined. What's it gonna be this time? The first time I've convinced myself of finally doing it -no more hesitations and what-ifs-coincidentally was the time mom was to give birth to Aiden. Is God trying to save me? Or is it just life's full of s**t. Great. I had to postpone it and prepare all over again. Great. Just great. And now, my phone started ringing just as I was peeling the paper off the my tool. I didn't pick it up and it stopped ringing. But after a few seconds, it rang again. Good God. When am I gonna be able to just leave in peace, no distractions, no more screaming, "Sammy!!!!! Call your father, my water just broke!!!", and no more Phil knocking on the door saying, "Goddamn it, Sammy, what the hell are you doing in there? I'm gonna be shitting myself here if you won't let me get my turn, I swear to God".           It'll be the last. Of course, it'll be the last. I'll make sure of it this time. Doors locked. Towel in my mouth. The tool. The main tool.  The key to finally getting it all done.           *Phone pings*           *Pings again*           "Hey." The unfamiliar voice was hoarse but soft at the same time. I stayed silent for a good one minute, catching my breath and trying to stop my hands from shaking. I'm holding the phone in my right hand and the blade in the other.           "It's Nick."            Nick. The new student in class? Why the hell would he call me?           "Uhm, hi. How'd you get my number?"           "Samantha, right? Your number is written at the back of your notebook. Or your journal? Well, I have it here with me. You must've dropped it yesterday on your way out."           Oh, please no. Is God already giving me my punishment? He might really be watching above he can see that I'm gonna do something terrible and something like this suddenly happens. How great? Just great.            "Yeah, thanks, I'm sorry, yeah, that's mine. Can I get it, like, right now?"           "Sure, yeah. But I'm just on my way home. I can just drop it off at your house. What's your address?" Nice. Now I have to tell a stranger where I live.           "No, no. Maybe I can just meet you at Sally's? If that's okay with you." I asked.           "Yeah, great. Be there in ten." He replied and I immediately ended the call and put the phone down because I feel really dizzy I had to hold on to the sink to keep myself from falling.           I almost forgot I was still holding the tool in my hand and I didn't notice I was holding it with my hands closed into a fist, the tool inside. I slowly opened my hand and a lot of blood comes gushing out. I did not bring any towel this time because I did not think I was gonna have to wipe it all away anymore. Guess I'll use up all the tissue here. Mom's a tissue addict if there is such a thing like that. She keeps a dozen stock of it, filling the entire drawer that's supposed to be for towels. I guess Mom knows what I need the most. But I don't usually use it. I worry my Mom or Phil might see it when they take out the trash. Or the garbage collectors might discover the pattern of blood too concise on the napkin especially when the bleeding had almost stopped, leaving only traces of lines of blood on it.           I cleaned the tool and wrapped it in its paper cover. I put it back in my wallet and shove all the napkins I've used in my pocket. I looked at myself in the mirror, practicing how I'm gonna have to look once I walked out of the bathroom. I headed straight to my room and grabbed my jacket and bracelet. I went downstairs. Mom and Aiden were on the couch, Mom was asleep with Aiden laying down on her lap. Phil was on the table reading Union Daily, drinking his now not-so-hot coffee.           "Where you going, Sammy?" he seeped in his coffee and asked without looking at me.           "Just gonna grab some materials I left at Shane's last night. Need it for my project, it's due on Tuesday." I quickly replied. I was amazed as to how I immediately came up with a lie. Yeah, you got it right, I'm a good liar.           "Okay. Here. Can you go buy a decaf on your way back? It's the last one I had today." Phil handed me the cash and I hurriedly head out.            Having a stranger read my suicidal note is the last thing I would like to think and worry about during my last minutes alive so here I am, heading out, the morning breeze and sunlight touching my skin, reminding me I am still very much alive and breathing. Or just breathing but not alive, just afloat.