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1,000 Miles (Fragment Two)

Updated on December 10, 2016

I woke up in a cold sweat, drenched from head to toe. The real agony that I had been feverishly awaiting was finally here. I dragged myself to the toilet, hunched over, and began to lose everything that had been inside me. I felt as if someone had stabbed me with a knife that was white hot. Even though I started to think about what I had done, the feeling was therapeutic. The end was so close, I could taste it. As the minutes passed by, the pain got worse. It's amazing how so much pain can make you regret doing this to the person you said you truly love. I continued to throw up, wincing in response to the excruciating cramps that haunted my body.

I finally had a moment of freedom from the constant vomiting. I tried to gather myself and rise to my feet, but to my dismay, I was to weak. As soon as I stood up, my legs gave out and I crashed to the floor. I grabbed whatever was around me as I fell hoping to hold myself up. The loud crash woke her up. She ran down the hallway and I could hear the fear in her voice,

" Jesse," she screamed. She stood over my aching body and the tears began to surface. She fell to her knees and took me into her arms.

"Jesse," she begged," please let me take you to the hospital."

It was at that moment that I knew that this was bigger than I had thought. The very pain I was trying to escape was only being passed on to those who I claim to love. It was a moment of clarity.

"I'm so sorry," I mumbled as my voice was buried by the pain, " I just wanted it to stop."

"I know," she whimpered, " let's get you to the hospital."

She helped me to my feet. I'm sure it took every ounce of strength she had to help me to the car. Just like our relationship, we stumbled, but we kept going. She reassured me that I was going to be okay. I sat down in the passenger seat and stared at our front door. It was symbolic in a way that gave me hope. It wasn't just a door. It was the threshold between life and death. The moment, in which, I allowed someone to help. I could've fought her, but I didn't. I knew she would carry my death on her shoulders for the rest of her life and I couldn't imagine that burden.

We began to drive away and the pain only got worse. Was it actually worse or was it because it was mixed with regret and disgust for myself? How could I allow myself to get to this point? I have never been a selfish person. I always cared about the well being of people. So why now? My mind continued to race with regret and distaste. What's going to happen to me?

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