I run across the street. I run for a while more towards my house. After a while I slow to a walk so I don't pass out. When I finally reach my house, I use my key to get in, grab a backpack, fill it with everything I need including food, water, Josh's ashes, and the package from him. I toss my phone on the table, grab some emergency cash, and I fly back out the door. And before I can stop to think, I'm running again. Running as fast as my legs will carry me. I still don't have a clue where exactly I'm going but this is my plan. The only plan I've got. It may not be a good plan. Or a finished plan. But it's my only plan and I'm sticking with it. Actually when it all comes down to it, it's not exactly a plan at all. But fuck plans. So I just walk as far away from my life as I possibly can. By the time night falls, I've made it to town, the one about 20 or more fricke'n miles from where I live. I know impressive right? Actually I can barely see anything so Im glad that all big towns are lit up by street lights and crap. Twenty minutes later and I'm standing on the back steps of my aunt's house. The one I like hardly even see once a year. I decide I can't rack up the nerve to sleep on the steps incase they magically decide to use it before I wake up the next day. So I simply choose to snatch a spare blanket from the garage and sleep out behind the garage.
The next morning I get up and find that both my aunt and uncle have left for work. So I grab the spare/emergency key from its hiding spot and get in. I fill my bag again with more food, water, two sodas and a razor blade for self defense? Sure yeah self defense. I scratch their cat Itchy behind her ear and on her rump. She purrs loudly at me. I take a super quick shower, do my hair, grab a book and leave. I spend the rest of the day reading and eating. Around five thirty they both return and I remain behind the garage. I pull out a peanut butter and fluff sandwich and eat it for dinner. Around eight I settle down for bed. I pull the razor blade out of the bag. I think of how easy it would be to just slit my throat. Nobody would notice my body for a few days. I could be with Josh. At the thought of Josh, tears sting my eyes. What if there was something I could've done? Never fallen asleep? Told him I loved him? Woken up sooner and started CPR? Something, anything. I hold the razor blade to my wrist. Gently at first. It's cold. Then before I know what I'm doing, I slice through the skin on my wrist. Not very deep, but enough so I can feel it, enough for me to bleed. I stare down at my wrist. As the blood trickles down my arm. When it seems to stop, I pull a napkin out of my bag and use a water bottle and the napkin to clean up the blood that ran down my arm. I have had friends who are suffering from depression and are suicidal. They cut their own wrists. But I never thought I'd be like them. I thought I was stronger than that. Guess I was wrong. A few minutes later I fall asleep.