Blood...bath? For real?
Until last night, I had never picked up a beach towel sopping wet with blood before. It's interesting how the mind works when confronted with really uncomfortable subjects, like suicide.
Last night Chris and Ryan and I went out after work to have fun before Chris left the country. I leave before Chris gets back, so I won't see him for 6 weeks or so. We all met at Chris' house and left from there. Chris' roommate, Jon, was there and I think he wanted to go hang out with us. However, Jon is a dipshit and I don't like hanging with him. He's always either trying to get high, being high, trying to get laid, or trying to convert me to Christianity.
So we go and do our thing last night. Postino's, Applebees, etc. We went back to get Chris' suitcase and stuff so he could crash at my place and I could take him to the airport in the morning. We get back to Chris' apartment, and he forgot his keys. It was 1am, but Jon's truck was home so we just banged on the door expecting him to wake up and come get the door. He didn't. So we got the manager of the complex to come open it for us, at the cost of $40.
We get inside, and I knew something was wrong. I went in Jon's room to kick him for not waking up to let us in. He wasn't in his room. Ryan went and laid down on Chris' bed because he was tired. Chris went to his bathroom. I was puzzled, Jon's truck was there but he wasn't. There were speakers strung from Jon's room out into the hallway facing his bathroom playing Enigma's "Return to Innocence." I went in Jon's bathroom and almost gagged. It smelled bad and the tub was full of brown water. I called for Chris, but he didn't hear me.
I walked into the kitchen and saw a note on the counter. "Chris, Johnathan cut his leg and was taken to the hospital by the Phoenix Fire Department. The tub in the bathroom is full of blood. Don't put your hand in the tub, have Johnathan do it when he gets back." I was puzzled, my mind couldn't make it out yet. But then Chris found the paring knife on the counter with dried blood and hair on it.
At that point, I actually started noticing things in the apartment that I was just walking over. Like, the blood stained carpet between Jon's bedroom and bathroom. The sad music about death on repeat. The fucking beach towel in the living room satuarated with wet fresh blood. I have never seen that much blood outside of a donation bag or a Freddy Crougar movie.
My mind rolled over all of these sights, and I pride myself on perceptive ability. In addition, after finding out that Jon tried to kill himself, I didn't feel sorry for him... like... at all. I think my subconscious was holding detail back from my conscious mind.
At first I thought that I was a fucked up uncaring person to have no empathy for someone trying to kill himself. However, I think it was Jon's choice to attempt it. Not being a stranger to attempted suicide, it was just like when my sister overdosed on Trazadone. All about death until they're on the brink of it; then they realize how much they want to live, and call for help. They say that a majority of people that jump from bridges change their minds on the way down.
Chris was in a bad place, but I hoped I made him feel better before he left. He won't know what's up for the next 3 weeks.
Last night Chris and Ryan and I went out after work to have fun before Chris left the country. I leave before Chris gets back, so I won't see him for 6 weeks or so. We all met at Chris' house and left from there. Chris' roommate, Jon, was there and I think he wanted to go hang out with us. However, Jon is a dipshit and I don't like hanging with him. He's always either trying to get high, being high, trying to get laid, or trying to convert me to Christianity.
So we go and do our thing last night. Postino's, Applebees, etc. We went back to get Chris' suitcase and stuff so he could crash at my place and I could take him to the airport in the morning. We get back to Chris' apartment, and he forgot his keys. It was 1am, but Jon's truck was home so we just banged on the door expecting him to wake up and come get the door. He didn't. So we got the manager of the complex to come open it for us, at the cost of $40.
We get inside, and I knew something was wrong. I went in Jon's room to kick him for not waking up to let us in. He wasn't in his room. Ryan went and laid down on Chris' bed because he was tired. Chris went to his bathroom. I was puzzled, Jon's truck was there but he wasn't. There were speakers strung from Jon's room out into the hallway facing his bathroom playing Enigma's "Return to Innocence." I went in Jon's bathroom and almost gagged. It smelled bad and the tub was full of brown water. I called for Chris, but he didn't hear me.
I walked into the kitchen and saw a note on the counter. "Chris, Johnathan cut his leg and was taken to the hospital by the Phoenix Fire Department. The tub in the bathroom is full of blood. Don't put your hand in the tub, have Johnathan do it when he gets back." I was puzzled, my mind couldn't make it out yet. But then Chris found the paring knife on the counter with dried blood and hair on it.
At that point, I actually started noticing things in the apartment that I was just walking over. Like, the blood stained carpet between Jon's bedroom and bathroom. The sad music about death on repeat. The fucking beach towel in the living room satuarated with wet fresh blood. I have never seen that much blood outside of a donation bag or a Freddy Crougar movie.
My mind rolled over all of these sights, and I pride myself on perceptive ability. In addition, after finding out that Jon tried to kill himself, I didn't feel sorry for him... like... at all. I think my subconscious was holding detail back from my conscious mind.
At first I thought that I was a fucked up uncaring person to have no empathy for someone trying to kill himself. However, I think it was Jon's choice to attempt it. Not being a stranger to attempted suicide, it was just like when my sister overdosed on Trazadone. All about death until they're on the brink of it; then they realize how much they want to live, and call for help. They say that a majority of people that jump from bridges change their minds on the way down.
Chris was in a bad place, but I hoped I made him feel better before he left. He won't know what's up for the next 3 weeks.