waking up to white walls and bright lights wasn't anything strange to me. i had ended up in the hospital more than i've been in my own "home". every time i awoke to this familiar place, deepened the issue of me being a failure.

i lost.

i'm still breathing and my mother is crying in the corner. the doctors call out the most painful sentence i've heard one too many times.

"she will be just fine,"

my jaw locks as i pretend to still be asleep. the rope burn stung at the slightest of movement; tints of purple, blue, red covering me from my neck to my fingertips.

my brother keeps asking what happened, my mother is sobbing violently, the beeping noise indicating my heartbeat murmurs quietly to itself, the nurses sneakers outside the door squeak against the washed floors,

and i'm left here wondering where i went wrong.