Susannah sat in her hospital room, looking out the window to admire yet another glamorous sunset. Yet another day had passed and she wondered how many days had flown by since she was here. Her watch had been taken from her. She had lost track of time, had stopped counting the rising and setting of the sun and she never asked anyone. Simply 'cause she hadn't spoken since the third day she had got here.
"Here" was a clinic for "whackos", as she called it. A house full of "psychos" and "even crazier doctors". Day in, day out she saw the same sad, distracted faces walking up and down the halls. Fourteen year old teens along with up to 25 year olds who had one thing in common: depression or other psychological problems that had led to drug abuse and/or attempted suicide.
Susannah shifted her position on the bed, sitting there Indian-style now. She wrapped her arms around herself as yet another rush of tears threatened to escape her eyes. She closed her eyes and let the last rays of sun that fell into the room warm her. She felt lonely. She knew that her mother was probably outside, maybe even her best friend Donna. But he wasn't here. AJ hadn't been there, when she had needed him and now she didn't want to see him anymore. Well, he hadn't showed up anyway. God only knew which city, or which country he was in now.
She felt bitter thinking of him. After all he had been the one who had talked her into trying the therapy. They had known each other for about four months and it wasn't long until he had discovered - like many others - the scars and wounds on her arms. Scars from the many times Susannah had hurt herself, by cutting her skin with a razor blade. She hadn't tried to kill herself. But without warning it had come over her again and again: the urge to hurt herself. She didn't know why. At least she didn't know it back then.
Many others before AJ had pleaded with her to go and see a psycho-therapist. Mostly her parents, of course. But it wasn't until AJ had asked her to do it that she actually did it. He had promised to be there for her, and she had trusted him. Had felt so safe with him. She had even started to feel so comfortable around him that she didn't always wear long-sleeved shirts to hide the scars and fresh wounds. Susannah had believed in him because he believed in her, because he said he could love her if she let him. And just when things had become difficult, when she had discovered things she never wanted to know, he had left.
The Backstreet Boys needed him, the fans wanted him, he had a contract to fulfill. Great. But where had that left her?
Susannah heard a cry escape from her mouth and choked back the ones that wanted to follow. She had told him he didn't understand it. She had told him this was going to be harder than he thought. Harder than she could handle. But he had made her believe she was strong enough to endure whatever was gonna come, and he had said he would be there. But now he was nowhere to be found and after he had left she had broken down. With the help of the therapist ("Yeah right, 'help'!" Susannah thought bitterly. It sure hadn't 'helped' her) memories had come to the surface that Susannah had buried so deep within that she had forgotten all about them ever since she was little. Although "forgotten" was the wrong word. She refused to remember, but subconsciously she knew all of it was there and that's why she had been physically hurting herself. She would still do it, if she could - but of course there was nothing in her hospital room that she could cut herself with. Instead she had started scratching her skin 'til she bled. No matter how short they cut her nails, she still managed to do it somehow. All over her body.
She had been sent to this hospital after the crash. The crash that she miraculously survived, after spending two months in a "normal" hospital. Only three days after AJ had left home, she had started drinking. Again. She had not drunk a drop of alcohol again since the age of sixteen, when she was an addict already. But the results of the therapy, the depression that had followed and AJ's leaving had been too much for her to handle. After three sober years, she had fallen back into the same trap: into believing that alcohol would solve her problems. She still knew all the tricks of hiding the addiction from others. But it had come out soon. There was no way she could've hidden it longer after she had run into a car on the highway - drunk as hell. Even though she had been so drunk Susannah still remembered everything. But she couldn't explain what had driven her to do it.
In an already drunk state she had decided to visit Donna. She had got into her car and managed to get on the highway. Surprisingly enough driving had hardly been the problem. But suddenly something had got into her: she had stopped the car on the side of the road, had got out, had waited a split second - and then she had run. Onto the highway.
She could remember the whole event, but she couldn't remember the pain anymore. She had thought she would be faster than the car, and she had almost been right. Almost. The car had hit her legs. The impact of the crash had spun her around and she flew a few feet through the air before landing hard on the ground. She remembered spitting blood, remembered the cracking sound of her bones - and the grin on her face. She would have even have laughed, had she could. But all that had escaped her lips was blood.
Susannah let out a last sigh, before numbness fell over her again. She didn't need alcohol anymore to cancel out the day. It were only a few minutes of the day that she allowed herself to be conscious enough to feel or to think. A few minutes in which she allowed herself to shed a tear or two, before choosing to forget again. Reality was cruel. Too cruel to live in.
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