The "High School Experience"

“Kirsten…” Andy breathes out as he wraps his arms around me. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yes,” I sniffle, should I even take this opportunity to ask him?
“Are you sure..?” He asks and I nod against his chest. I take in the last moments of his embrace and pull myself away.
“But, why? Why have you…uh. Left me…for- for her?” I ask him and look up to see his features contorted into frustration.
“Kirsten that is a question I can’t answer right now.” He argues and crosses his arms.
“Am I not good enough for you? Or have you been cheating on me the whole time?” I ask him, and mirror his crossing of arms. I don’t really want to fight with him right now. This will only drive him away.
But I need him.
I thought he needed me.
I feel safe with him.
But maybe he doesn’t feel safe with me.
“Kirsten. I’ll do anything for you. I still do. I still am. I just can’t tell you yet. I have it handled. This is all part of the plan I just have to go with it or else…or they said they’d hurt you! Okay?” He yells, overwhelmed and pent up frustration seethes from him. I stop for a moment.
Who is ‘they’?
Why are they doing this?
How is this even a plan?
“Andy. I can protect myself.” I mutter.
“No you can’t! If you could I wouldn’t have had to do anything when Brian came in here!” Andy yells once again.
“Andy calm down.” I mutter.
“No I won’t calm down! I’ve had to save you more times than I can count and I don’t know how I even continue saving you! Maybe I care about you too much. Maybe I should just go.” He says bluntly, a pit hits my stomach as he utters those last words.
“Where would you go Andrew?” I question him, raising my watery eyes to meet his now hard crystal blue ones.
“Away. Away from all the problems. What stresses me out. Start a new life where no one knows my name.” Andy says.
“I can go if you want. I can do it all for you.” I say, already knowing what I have in mind.
“Kirsten. No, you can’t.” He mutters.
“I’ll do whatever I want. You do whatever you want. You can stop protecting me,” I whisper and smile at him a final time. I push past him through the little doorway and head to the front door. He doesn’t even try to stop me. I pull out my phone, calling the Taxi company that was in my recent calls. The phone rings and I open the door, step through, and close it behind me.
“Hello, where would you like a taxi to be sent?” The woman’s voice sounds over my speaker.
“1641 S. Bernard Street,” I tell her and she says that a Taxi will be there in 10 minutes. I thank her before hanging up and sitting on the porch.
10 minutes for him to come out.
10 minutes for him to sit down.
9 minutes for him to talk to me.
9 minutes for him to calm me down.
8 minutes for him to hold me.
8 minutes for him to love me.
7 minutes to kiss me.
7 minutes to hug me.
6 minutes to laugh with me.
6 minutes to stare at the stars with me.
5 minutes to joke with me.
5 minutes to pull me on his lap.
4 minutes for me to bite his lip ring.
4 minutes for him to put his jacket on me.
3 minutes for him to save me.
3 minutes for him to cancel the taxi.
2 minutes to make me happy.
2 minutes for him to hold my hand.
1 minute for him to squeeze my hand.
1 minute for him to keep me.
0 minutes for him to close the door behind him.
0 minutes for me to get up without him.
I get up as the yellow cab pulls up and I tug down my skirt. I climb into the small leather clad seat and the driver greets me and I tell him the address to drive me to. I stare out the window as we leave the house, the neighborhood, and eventually the street Ashley is on. We head to my house, my empty house. My mother and father both were on business trips and won’t be home until Sunday. I sigh as we approach my house and I hand him a wad of money, not caring if it was too much or too little. It wouldn’t matter soon anyways. I climb out of the car, and head to my front door. I unlock it and tug the large wooden entrance open. Each movement gives me more and more courage as I get closer and closer to this moment. I walk through the living room.
So many memories held here.
I head past the kitchen.
I go into the hallway connecting the kitchen to the front room and open the cabinet there. Bottles of alcohol line the drawer and I pull out a few glasses, not caring the kind or brand. It’ll get the job done. I head up the stairs and to my bathroom. I place the bottles on the ground and open the medicine cabinet. Pill bottles fill the shelves and I choose the one with the most pills in it.
Coincidentally, the anti-depressant pills I was prescribed two years ago.
One swig of alcohol.
Down goes the pill.
One drink of alcohol.
In goes the chemical.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Repeat until I run out of vodka and I become dizzy. Half my pills gone and I sit on the floor.
Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself?

Notes

H-hello.
This chapter even gave me some feels.
I'm sorry for anyone that ends up freaking out, ok?
Andyways,
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