Have you ever been pushed to the point where you were looking back upon your life as you are about to take your own life? I have and at such a young age too. I was about 10 or 11 years old when I went to my first sleep away camp. I was a part of the wrestling program called “Beat the Streets”. Since I was really good, I was invited to take their summer program along with some of the other kids on my team. Honestly, it was one of the worst experiences of my entire life. The minor bullying with my teammates at my old elementary school had escalated from hurtful name calling to fights and at one point the destruction of a meaningful relationship.

Pathetic as it was, I ended up crying sitting on a toilet in the hotel room bathroom. I locked the door so no one could get to me, but that didn’t stop them from banging on the door and screaming insults and demeaning words through the narrow crack under the door. After years and years of being alone, fending for myself, and relying on teachers and adults, that night I decided I had had enough of this life. I thought back upon all the things I had done with my life but I still didn’t feel that I had made any huge differences and concluded that I didn’t amounted to anything. I had been feeling this way for a long time yet I always pushed and buried and locked all these feelings away. My parents had thought something was wrong when I stopped smiling and laughing and when I had these random bursts of blind rage for what seemed like nothing. They’d even asked me about it constantly but I’d always force a smile on my face and tell them everything was okay.

All these feelings came pouring out of me and I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned on the hot water in the bathtub and watched the translucent lava pour and fill the tub up to the rim. Soon the bathroom became steamy and since I was looking at my reflection in the mirror, my face faded away and when was replaced by a thick fog. One of the four boys I was sharing the hotel room knocked politely and asked if I was ok, so I gathered up the heart and replied I was ok trying to hide the quiver in my voice. I then stepped into the tub with my clothes still on and watched as the water spilled over and I felt my foot practically boil. I put the next foot then soon I was sitting in the tub feeling my entire lower body burn and I just sat there, just thinking, imagining, dreaming, believing that if I did this, the world would be a better place and everyone would be happy.

I thought of my sister, my father, and my mother and how they would be more successful without me, how everyone loved my popular little sister more than me. I slowly sank deeper and deeper into the tub until the water was up to my neck. My body had gotten used to the heat and the water got colder so I got out of the tub, drained and refilled the tub again and got back in. I found comfort in the pain, as if it were a punishment for my own existence. I sat there remembering my sisters birth, how I had finished taking a nap when I awoke to my brand new sister in the arms of my mother. I had heard stories of how I then started singing happy birthday to her as she calmed down from screaming during birth. As I thought of these stories, my throat felt as if it just finished singing the song itself.

I then started to cry silently and wondered, if I did this where would I go? My overly Christian grandparents would have said I would be tortured for all eternity. I remember asking my Nana about it when I sat beside her in a church as my poppy preached on the stage. “When we die, where do we go?” My Nana then showed me the Ten Commandments in the bible knowing that my parents weren’t really firm believers although she would always till this day try to make me believe. “If you follow all these rules, you will go to a great place called heaven. However if you break even just one of these rules, you’ll go to a terrible place called hell where you will be tortured for all eternity nevertheless remember, Jesus will always love you.” I was young and I didn’t understand. “Wait, if he loves me, then why would he send me to a place like that?” I asked.“Its like your parents, when you do bad stuff don’t you get a beating?” she asked.“Yes,” I replied. “Well, it’s the same here.” she explained. “Nana?” I said. “Yes,” she answered. “How long is an eternity?” I asked. “Forever,” she said as she faded away in my mind. I still remember her old house in upstate New York. When my sister and I were younger, we would travel up there for some weekends and for holidays such as Christmas and Thanksgiving. The house had such a welcoming smell and a lovely well tuned piano. I remember in the mornings we would run downstairs and play that piano before breakfast in our pajamas and underwear. I remember how my sister also got special treatment like getting the first choice of their cookies and treats or how she would get to go first on everything or how if we both wanted one thing how my sis would get it and when I asked them about it they’d say it was because she’s a lady.

I sank lower in the tub and the water now covered my mouth. My memory of the house is now faded still I will always remember how red the facade looked and honestly I prefered that house to their new house in Georgia. I then thought about my grandfather, who is truly amazing. He’s an archeologist, psychologist, and a professor in Florida and he also goes by the ladies first rule but he’s cool otherwise. I guess it’s because they followed rules of a different time. My roommate knocked again, however this time when he asked if I was ok, I didn’t answer. I didn’t feel like it. He then started to bang on the door. I must of made a noise or something because he then left.

I then started to think of what my funeral would be like, how everyone would be smiling and laughing saying, “Glad that brat’s dead,” and “He shoulda done this a long time ago,” as my sister sat on a pedestal being pampered and praised for just being who she was. I sank until my entire head was underwater. The heat was painful, but I still felt I deserved it. I then thought of the time I took a beating just to save my sister--how she let me and never truly appreciated it, but at least she didn’t get hurt. I then pictured what would truly happen if I died; I envisioned myself in a black casket with a black double breasted suit on. It would be an outdoor funeral with my mother in my fathers arms crying and my sister sitting with my parents with no one to hold her or hug her. Everyone had someone to hug and hold while she’d be on her own and I guess that’s why didn’t kill myself that night... I didn’t want my sister to be on her own. Soon an adult knocked on the door as I got out of the tub, got out of my wet clothes, dried myself and left the bathroom but not before watching the water in the tub go down the drain... A part of me did die that day, however I believe it was for the better.