Love Is A Form Of Suicide, Jimm Tumbly [english novels for beginners TXT] 📗

of me as I try to get closer to my dead lover.

“Go on, Ms. Victory.” Jack whispers to me.

“No! Jack I-I cant! Is he...is he dead?” I look up into Jack's eyes and that is all the confirmation I need. The tears that harbor in his blackened eyes tell me Brent...is...dead. “No!” I let out a painful and loud cry, running over to Brent's body. I kneel down beside him, throwing my arms around him. I am drenched in his blood, but it matters not to me. I kiss his cheek and rest my head in the crook of his neck.

“Brent,” I whisper between tears. “Brent, please, you can't leave me. Y-you just can't. What about the baby? What about us? Brent I love you. I love you more than anything. Anything, do you hear me? you are my everything, the reason I breathe. Without you I-I might as well die too.” There is no response, no movement beneath me. I guess I never expected him to respond, I only hoped he would.

“Ms. Victory, you must go.” Jack says softly. I don't let go of Brent, don't stop crying either. I can't bring myself to leave his lifeless body. If I did, that would mean he really is dead. That would mean that he wouldn't stand up, wouldn't kiss me again, and I would never again see his soft brown eyes. If I stand up, I would be admiting I lost him forever.

“I-I can't Jack.” I say, not lifting my head up from Brent's chest. “I can't leave him.” Jack seems to understand. He sits on Brent's bed, allowing me to hold him until the paramedics come.

When the paramedics finally arrive they pry me from Brent's lifeless body, one holding me as I cry. I watch as they lift Brent onto a stretcher and hurry him out of the room, not wanting to admit all hope is lost.

“He...he's really gone.” I whisper to Jack as I sit down on Brent's bed. I begin to cry harder than ever before, realizing he really is gone. He's not going to walk back in the room and laugh, saying it was all a joke. This isn't a joke. Brent is really dead.

I have spent my whole life trying to find my purpose. I always thought love was just something they talked about in books and movies. My mother claimed to love me, but she didn't really. My father didn't love me either. I didn't know what love truly was until I walked through the doors of Spring Hill Mental Hospital and met Brent Skyes. He showed me love, passion, and kindness. He helped me through everything, saying he'd be with me until the end. Now he is gone. The only thing left of him is our child. I don't know how I will make it through this. It is better to learn someone never loved you, than to loose the only person who did.

I Am Here, But What Has Become of Her?

We have all thought about killing ourselves, wonderd what it would be like. Everyone has looked at the knife in the kitchen or the gun in their bed side table and wondered if they would be missed. I knew that Victory and mom would miss me dearly. I knew they would cry and grieve, but I had to do it. I guess someone out there didnt think it was my time, even when I tried so desperately to make it be.

Your a very luck man people would tell me. God must love you. I dont think it was God who saved me. I just think Satan didnt have enough room for me.

After I was taken the the hospital I begged the doctor not to save me. I told him there were other people much more worthy of life than I. He didnt listen. Instead, he saved my life.

I spent a few days in the hospital and was released. Not to Spring Hill, however. They sent me home. It was decided that time in the real world would hlep me heal and make me less crazy. So, three days after attempting to take my own life, I was sent home.

Before leaving the hospital I had asked to see Victory. Doctors and mom had insisted it was not a good idea. I had fought and argued, but never got to see her. I had told the doctor who saved my life, Dr. Roseburg, to call Spring Hill. I asked him to let Victory know I was alright, tell her I was alive. I can only hope he did.

Now, two months after my second suicide attempt, I am about to start my senior year of high school. I had begged my mom to let me start school again. I thought it would help me get over the fact that I havent seen Victory since that fatal day. I tried calling her, but they dont allow patients to take phone calls. I had asked to go see her, but was denied permission. Many times I tried to sneak out, only to be stopped my by "father" holding a baseball bat. Once I dared him to hit me, thought he was too much of a coward. I walked back to my room with welps on my back and bruised ribs.

Many nights I have spent crying myself to sleep, wondering what Victory is doing. I wonder if she is alright, wonder if she knows that I am still alive. I also wonder about our baby. I wonder how big her stomach is, and if she still throws up. Will I ever see her or our child? How will I know when she is released from Spring Hill, and how will I find her? These questions haunt me as I toss and turn every night.

Seeing Victory is the only thing that keeps me alive. The hope that she still loves me and the hope of seeing her and our baby is the only thing that keeps me from cutting, the only thing that makes me want to get better. I know that I will do everything in my power to find her. I know that once I do, I wont ever let her go. I love Victory with everything I know. I never knew what love was growing up, it was never exhibitied in my household. But everyday that I was with Victory, she showed me what love was. I just hope that I can be shown that once more.

He's Still Gone

*Victorys Point Of View*

Brent is gone. He has been gone for two months. I have missed him so much, and its still hard for me to walk past his now occupied room. The boy who now stays in his room doesn’t deserve it. He is nothing like Brent, doesn’t have his kind heart or keen since of humor. I don't talk to him, don't even dare look at him. For if I do, I'm afraid I will break down.

Ever since that fatal day that Brent died, I have done nothing but think about him. Every time I throw up due to morning sickness, he is on my mind. Every time I walk into to group and take my seat, I stare at the empty chair beside me, wishing he would walk through the door and sit next to me, smiling warmly as he always did. But that will never happen. I know that he will never sit next to me in the cafeteria, or pass me in the hallway. I know that he will never smile at me, and I will never hear his hello again. Brent is gone forever, and there is nothing I can do about it.

“Victory,” Mr. Corps says. I reluctantly look up and notice several pairs of eyes resting upon my face. “Would you like to share?”

“Share what?” I ask.

“Well, since you guys only have a few weeks left in here, I thought we could all share our best memories from Spring Hill.” He smiles softly, waiting for my reply.

I don't answer his question. I know exactly what my best memory is, but I don't dare say his name. I haven't spoken his name since he died, and I'm not about to say it now. I know that if I do, it will only cause pain. I know if I say his name, I will break down, admitting that he really is gone.

I stare at Mr. Corps who is still waiting for my reply. I take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill over the brinks of my eyes. “I-I,” I stutter, searching through my brain for an answer. I can't speak, don't know what to say. Instead I sit there and cry my heart out, tears streaming down my flushed cheeks.

“Victory,” Mr. Corps says, walking over to me. He kneels down in front of me and looks up into my tearful green eyes. “are you okay?” He asks.

I shake my head no, refusing to speak. He looks at my expression and understands at once the cause of my sorrow-filled tears. His eyes fill with tears but he quickly composes his self before turning back to the group.

I close my eyes and will my tears to stop, but they don't. Within the black of my closed eyes I can see him. I see his soft brown hair, his chocolate brown eyes and his warm smile. He mouths the words I love you, and then he is gone.

My eyes fly open, and I notice everyone is talking, ignoring me completely. They have become used to my tears, seen them many times before. I leap from my chair and exit the room, running into the hall. I lean against the wall and slide to the floor, burring my face in my knees. Silently I sob to myself, memories of Brent flashing through my untampered memory.

Mr. Corps doesn't follow me into the hall. He did the first few times after his death, but he has become accustomed to my sudden outbursts of sorrow. Instead, I can hear him talking to the group, acting as if I had never even been there in the first place.

I place my hand on my stomach. I am starting to show a little baby bump, but nothing I am worried about. I will be out of here in a month anyway.

I wish I could get out of here sooner, I wish I could see the world. Being in here is a constant reminder of him. Every time I walk down the hall, every time I eat supper, every time I lay in my bed, I think of him. Maybe ending his life was a way out of it all, and a stupid move. But I am starting to think the only way to end all of this pain is to end myself too.

I Am Back

*Brent's Point Of View*

Spring Hill was filled with crazies. Psychos walked the halls, stared at you during breakfast, lunch and dinner, and screamed as you tried to sleep. You felt like dying just being around them; listening to their fucked up life stories, forced to hear the sick ways of their twisted minds. Everyone thinks that high school is a horrible ride that we are pushed on, forced to ride the roller coaster. But a mental hospital is worse. There are no cheerleaders to help