A Coward's Way Out
A Coward's Way Out
Wordcount: 1632
Rating: I'm gonna say NC17, but only because it's one hell of a dark piece. I'm talking lots and lots of dark. Suicide, drug abuse, serious shit.
Feedback: Hell yea! I didn’t post this thing for my health...well maybe I did.
Disclaimer: Actually...I do own everything here
It was four o’clock in the fucking morning.
Any sane person would be deep in REM sleep by now, but Sabrina wasn’t in REM sleep. She wasn’t even fucking sleeping. Then again, she wasn’t sure if she was even sane. Doubt she had been in a long ass time.
No, four o’clock in the fucking morning found her leaning her constantly aching shoulder against the doorframe of her mom’s bedroom, watching her puke her guts into a dusty pink hospital issue plastic tub.
Sabrina sighed, forcing her own revolting stomach to shut the fuck up before carrying a spare bucket in and swapping it out, in order to flush the mess that she couldn’t even stand to look at.
Made dumping it in the toilet a hell of a task.
This was Sabrina’s life. Had been for oh say, 4 years now.
Her mind went back to that horrendous day, like it did oh so constantly. Her dad had dropped her friend off at her house on the way home from school and then just blurted out “Mom has cancer.”
That was it. No warning, no sitting down on the living room sofa and having a big drawn out ‘it will be okay’ moment that would rival any chick flick.
No, driving down a fucking dirt road, no warning whatsoever, her world crashed down around her.
And to this day it hadn’t rebuilt itself.
She was out of high school now. Should have been halfway through college, but the whole family barely having enough money to pay for food and having to literally take care of both her parents kind of put the quash on that.
Which just added to the now concentrated stress that flowed through her veins.
In this day and age, you didn’t get past McDonald’s without a college diploma. So here she was, working at a god damn livestock ranch, getting paid under the table, because that was all she knew.
Oh, did she mention her body was already about 20 years older than she was?
She wasn’t even 20 goddamned years old yet, and she had joints popping with every step she took. Because you know, that is so normal.
Normal apparently wasn’t made for the Fischer family.
Her dad that had worked in construction his whole life was now legally disabled thanks to a back that was so badly damaged his vertebra had literally started fusing together.
And her mom, well her mom had been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer…when they caught it.
There would be no hopes of remission.
Stage 4 was basically go straight to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200 and oh, hang on as long as you can.
But her mom had held on. Made it to her older sister’s wedding. Made it to Sabrina’s graduation. Thought she had been doing pretty damn good. The cancer was quote-unquote ‘stopped.’ It would never, ever, be gone, but apparently it was stopped.
And then things started going horribly wrong.
And it all happened at once.
Of fucking course.
Her dad was in the midst of a late mid life crisis. He had resumed his smoking which she was sure as hell wasn’t helping his already quadruple bypassed heart. Was taking god damned anxiety pills. The rock of a man that she called her father. The man no one fucking messed with, was reduced to a moody, anxious, touchy son of a bitch that seemed to break down into tears, fucking tears, at least once a day.
In her whole life she had only seen the man cry once until now.
And her mom. Ha, where to begin. Lost her vision, lost the use of her right arm, lost the use of both of her legs and thanks to an oh so convenient tumor in her neck was now subjected to a nonstop, no cure cough that made her hack so hard she got physically sick and even cracked a couple of fucking ribs.
Which, by the way, was due to the wonders of breast cancer that had not only moved to her lung, and recently liver, but was inside her bones, making her like a couple decades old chicken carcass. Weak and goddamned brittle.
This losing the ability to walk thing was new though. Before she had been able to shuffle her way around the house, slow, but she could do it. Now she couldn’t even stand by herself.
Which left Sabrina and her father to literally lift her in and out of chairs, into wheelchairs, into their van for doctor’s appointments, into fucking bed. Which in no way helped her or her father’s backs.
Her own back, and practically every other part of her body, was now on a setting of ‘constant unrelenting ache.’ Courtesy of the 6+ years she’d been working with livestock doing heavy labor. She had a bottle of one of her dad’s old high power prescriptions on her dresser. And it took two of those fuckers to give her any relief.
Her back was shot, shoulders constantly tight and tensed, arms cracked, knees popped, every time she took a step. Her joints literally ached until she popped them. Her neck she did repeatedly during the day. Hell, she did them all repeatedly. She could crack every bone in her fucking body, which she knew was probably not healthy. Hell, she even cracked her chest on occasion, which freaked even her out. Oh, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she need a hip replacement by the age of 25. Because as it was, it had this constant dull pain, felt locked if in the wrong position and could pop loud enough for a whole room to hear.
Over and over again.
Because in case you didn’t know, every 19 year old should be able to do that.
No, her life was literally a living hell. And to top it all off, the chemo her mom was on was now no longer working as well. Nope, the cancer that had been so miraculously ‘stopped,’ was now screaming ‘fuck you’ in their faces and running its way towards ‘game over.’
Somewhere between swapping the bucket out yet again and hitting the lever on the toilet something went horribly wrong.
Something literally snapped inside Sabrina’s head.
She could swear to god she heard the pop. Kind of like the way a light bulb breaks.
She sighed, mechanically continued helping her mother until she had finished getting sick and almost passed out into sleep and then Sabrina, who had been up for almost 24 hours, finally stumbled into her own bedroom.
She sat down on her bed and just stared at her wall.
The bills were getting harder and harder to pay. Her mom getting harder and harder to take care of. The pain getting harder and harder to get rid of. It was getting harder and harder to even get out of bed in the morning.
It was getting harder and harder to just live.
It all seemed clear now.
If Sabrina was gone, they could sell two of their three cars. That was guaranteed to bring in some cash. Her own car was just shy of being show worthy.
They would have one less mouth to feed, body to clothe. That would bring down the cost of living. Hell, she had quite a few movies and collector’s items they could sell and could probably bring in enough to sustain them for a couple months at least.
Yea, they would be so better off if Sabrina wasn’t there.
Which just made it hurt worse.
Sabrina didn’t have low self esteem.
She didn’t have any period.
She had always auto piloted her way through life, doing anything for anyone, feeling like the only way anyone would ever give a damn about her is if she gave everything.
She never got anything in return.
She had been crying herself to sleep when she was still in middle school.
She knew she was weak. Which pissed her off. She had always prided herself in being the tough chick. The chick that got broken and bloodied and got back up to kick some ass. The chick that never, ever, cried in public.
And now she was reduced to a staring, aching, terrified coward.
Terrified her family was falling apart. Terrified they wouldn’t be able to survive much longer like this. Terrified she was out of resources to protect them, help them. Terrified of the amber colored bottle that she clutched in her hand.
There would be crying, calling of ambulances and frantic rushes to bring her back. There would be wonderings of why, funerals, obituaries.
There would be pain.
But then, things would go back to normal. Her things would be sold, letting her support her family even from the grave. They would move on, because let’s face it, they never really had needed her. And in the long run, things would be better.
She was sure of it.
So with a steady hand, she unscrewed the child proof cap on the bottle of pills her dad had given her over a month ago and emptied the contents into her hand.
If just two made her feel as if she had drank a 6 pack she wondered what the remaining 40 would do.
Ha, who was she kidding? She knew the answer.
And yea, it was the coward’s way out.
But she had finally admitted, not accepted, but admitted that she just was not strong enough.
The pills went down hard, she could feel them sliding in her throat as she chugged the glass of water by her bed.
She wouldn’t bother with a note. They would never understand her reasoning.
So she just laid down, clutching her stuffed animal, and went to sleep.
Wordcount: 1632
Rating: I'm gonna say NC17, but only because it's one hell of a dark piece. I'm talking lots and lots of dark. Suicide, drug abuse, serious shit.
Feedback: Hell yea! I didn’t post this thing for my health...well maybe I did.
Disclaimer: Actually...I do own everything here
It was four o’clock in the fucking morning.
Any sane person would be deep in REM sleep by now, but Sabrina wasn’t in REM sleep. She wasn’t even fucking sleeping. Then again, she wasn’t sure if she was even sane. Doubt she had been in a long ass time.
No, four o’clock in the fucking morning found her leaning her constantly aching shoulder against the doorframe of her mom’s bedroom, watching her puke her guts into a dusty pink hospital issue plastic tub.
Sabrina sighed, forcing her own revolting stomach to shut the fuck up before carrying a spare bucket in and swapping it out, in order to flush the mess that she couldn’t even stand to look at.
Made dumping it in the toilet a hell of a task.
This was Sabrina’s life. Had been for oh say, 4 years now.
Her mind went back to that horrendous day, like it did oh so constantly. Her dad had dropped her friend off at her house on the way home from school and then just blurted out “Mom has cancer.”
That was it. No warning, no sitting down on the living room sofa and having a big drawn out ‘it will be okay’ moment that would rival any chick flick.
No, driving down a fucking dirt road, no warning whatsoever, her world crashed down around her.
And to this day it hadn’t rebuilt itself.
She was out of high school now. Should have been halfway through college, but the whole family barely having enough money to pay for food and having to literally take care of both her parents kind of put the quash on that.
Which just added to the now concentrated stress that flowed through her veins.
In this day and age, you didn’t get past McDonald’s without a college diploma. So here she was, working at a god damn livestock ranch, getting paid under the table, because that was all she knew.
Oh, did she mention her body was already about 20 years older than she was?
She wasn’t even 20 goddamned years old yet, and she had joints popping with every step she took. Because you know, that is so normal.
Normal apparently wasn’t made for the Fischer family.
Her dad that had worked in construction his whole life was now legally disabled thanks to a back that was so badly damaged his vertebra had literally started fusing together.
And her mom, well her mom had been diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer…when they caught it.
There would be no hopes of remission.
Stage 4 was basically go straight to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200 and oh, hang on as long as you can.
But her mom had held on. Made it to her older sister’s wedding. Made it to Sabrina’s graduation. Thought she had been doing pretty damn good. The cancer was quote-unquote ‘stopped.’ It would never, ever, be gone, but apparently it was stopped.
And then things started going horribly wrong.
And it all happened at once.
Of fucking course.
Her dad was in the midst of a late mid life crisis. He had resumed his smoking which she was sure as hell wasn’t helping his already quadruple bypassed heart. Was taking god damned anxiety pills. The rock of a man that she called her father. The man no one fucking messed with, was reduced to a moody, anxious, touchy son of a bitch that seemed to break down into tears, fucking tears, at least once a day.
In her whole life she had only seen the man cry once until now.
And her mom. Ha, where to begin. Lost her vision, lost the use of her right arm, lost the use of both of her legs and thanks to an oh so convenient tumor in her neck was now subjected to a nonstop, no cure cough that made her hack so hard she got physically sick and even cracked a couple of fucking ribs.
Which, by the way, was due to the wonders of breast cancer that had not only moved to her lung, and recently liver, but was inside her bones, making her like a couple decades old chicken carcass. Weak and goddamned brittle.
This losing the ability to walk thing was new though. Before she had been able to shuffle her way around the house, slow, but she could do it. Now she couldn’t even stand by herself.
Which left Sabrina and her father to literally lift her in and out of chairs, into wheelchairs, into their van for doctor’s appointments, into fucking bed. Which in no way helped her or her father’s backs.
Her own back, and practically every other part of her body, was now on a setting of ‘constant unrelenting ache.’ Courtesy of the 6+ years she’d been working with livestock doing heavy labor. She had a bottle of one of her dad’s old high power prescriptions on her dresser. And it took two of those fuckers to give her any relief.
Her back was shot, shoulders constantly tight and tensed, arms cracked, knees popped, every time she took a step. Her joints literally ached until she popped them. Her neck she did repeatedly during the day. Hell, she did them all repeatedly. She could crack every bone in her fucking body, which she knew was probably not healthy. Hell, she even cracked her chest on occasion, which freaked even her out. Oh, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she need a hip replacement by the age of 25. Because as it was, it had this constant dull pain, felt locked if in the wrong position and could pop loud enough for a whole room to hear.
Over and over again.
Because in case you didn’t know, every 19 year old should be able to do that.
No, her life was literally a living hell. And to top it all off, the chemo her mom was on was now no longer working as well. Nope, the cancer that had been so miraculously ‘stopped,’ was now screaming ‘fuck you’ in their faces and running its way towards ‘game over.’
Somewhere between swapping the bucket out yet again and hitting the lever on the toilet something went horribly wrong.
Something literally snapped inside Sabrina’s head.
She could swear to god she heard the pop. Kind of like the way a light bulb breaks.
She sighed, mechanically continued helping her mother until she had finished getting sick and almost passed out into sleep and then Sabrina, who had been up for almost 24 hours, finally stumbled into her own bedroom.
She sat down on her bed and just stared at her wall.
The bills were getting harder and harder to pay. Her mom getting harder and harder to take care of. The pain getting harder and harder to get rid of. It was getting harder and harder to even get out of bed in the morning.
It was getting harder and harder to just live.
It all seemed clear now.
If Sabrina was gone, they could sell two of their three cars. That was guaranteed to bring in some cash. Her own car was just shy of being show worthy.
They would have one less mouth to feed, body to clothe. That would bring down the cost of living. Hell, she had quite a few movies and collector’s items they could sell and could probably bring in enough to sustain them for a couple months at least.
Yea, they would be so better off if Sabrina wasn’t there.
Which just made it hurt worse.
Sabrina didn’t have low self esteem.
She didn’t have any period.
She had always auto piloted her way through life, doing anything for anyone, feeling like the only way anyone would ever give a damn about her is if she gave everything.
She never got anything in return.
She had been crying herself to sleep when she was still in middle school.
She knew she was weak. Which pissed her off. She had always prided herself in being the tough chick. The chick that got broken and bloodied and got back up to kick some ass. The chick that never, ever, cried in public.
And now she was reduced to a staring, aching, terrified coward.
Terrified her family was falling apart. Terrified they wouldn’t be able to survive much longer like this. Terrified she was out of resources to protect them, help them. Terrified of the amber colored bottle that she clutched in her hand.
There would be crying, calling of ambulances and frantic rushes to bring her back. There would be wonderings of why, funerals, obituaries.
There would be pain.
But then, things would go back to normal. Her things would be sold, letting her support her family even from the grave. They would move on, because let’s face it, they never really had needed her. And in the long run, things would be better.
She was sure of it.
So with a steady hand, she unscrewed the child proof cap on the bottle of pills her dad had given her over a month ago and emptied the contents into her hand.
If just two made her feel as if she had drank a 6 pack she wondered what the remaining 40 would do.
Ha, who was she kidding? She knew the answer.
And yea, it was the coward’s way out.
But she had finally admitted, not accepted, but admitted that she just was not strong enough.
The pills went down hard, she could feel them sliding in her throat as she chugged the glass of water by her bed.
She wouldn’t bother with a note. They would never understand her reasoning.
So she just laid down, clutching her stuffed animal, and went to sleep.