Chapter 3

That night was the worst night of my life. I tossed and turned with the thoughts in my head. I screamed into my pillow, but nobody came. I didn't want to die, but it was the only option. What if He was really dead? How could I live without Him? 

I was going to go through with it, I told myself. What was I supposed to live for? Mom was barely home and Dad was long gone. A divorce had finalized that part of my life. Would anyone care? Would anyone cry if I slit my throat tonight? Would anyone even notice? I felt worthless and unloved at that moment, but finally I let the thoughts go. This was a battle for another time. 

I laid in bed for about two hours before slipping off into a world of darkness and terrors. A creeping nightmare held me captive, but I couldn't just wake up. I had to let it play out in my head. 

At around three in the morning, I woke up in a sweat, crying, but He wasn't there to comfort me. I called His name, but He didn't come. 

"I can't do this anymore," I screamed into my covers. 

I inhaled a deep, uncertain breath, and then let it out. I was going to end it all. I had to. After creeping out of my room, I went directly to the kitchen. The stairs creaked as I made my way down them, and the handrail groaned as I curled my fingers around it. I only hoped not to wake anyone up. 

When I entered the kitchen, I began sobbing again. Slowly, I opened the drawer and grabbed a singular steak knife. 

"I'm not wanted," I whispered, sitting against the kitchen wall. 

"I'm not good enough." A dark feeling settled in my gut.

"I'm not lovable." I lifted the sharp blade. 

"I'm a failure." Blood oozed from my wrist as I slid the knife over. 

"I'm not valuable." I watched blood mix with tears. 

"I'm not worthy." I did it again and again. 

"I deserve this." Blood bubbled and trickled down my arm. 

"I can't go on." 

Then the lights flipped on. 

"Kayla?" He said, surprised at first, then His eyebrows furrow in shock. "Kayla!" He rushed over to the sink and grabbed a washcloth. 

"No! Let me go!" I sobbed. 

"Give me your arm," He demanded harshly, making my tears increase. 

"I want to die!" I pulled away from Him, hiding my arm behind my back.

"No, Kayla, give me your hand."

Unwillingly, I let Him pry my arm from behind me. 

He took in a shaky breath. "Kayla, I love you, why did you do this?"

"I had such a bad day, and you only made it worse. Leave me alone," I blubbered. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," He touched my arm to reassure me. 

"No! You're not sorry!" I screamed at Him. "You're dead!" 

He stumbled back in shock. "No, Kayla, listen to me." He said, softer this time. "I'm right here."

"No," I exclaimed bitterly. I forcefully grabbed the knife and held it to my throat. "No, you're dead." 

"No!" He cried out. He took another step back. "Please, Kayla, don't do this. 

I shook my head slowly. "I'm dead." Then I pressed the blade until resistance gave and blood started pouring down my neck. 

He lunged at me, holding His hand to my neck as I bled. "I can't do anything, Kayla! You know I'm dead!"