Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun

Add to the list of one something that can change your life, a mistake.
In my case, two mistakes. Mine and theirs.
The days following the start of the program that I declined, things were less silent. There were faint mummers and whispers. Which bother me considerably less than the complete silence.
But my mind was still in a dark place no one could seem to reach me at. Clearly surprised at my pass of that program, therapists came to see me more. They talked to me more, and I talked less.
Then a day or two ago, they introduced something new that they thought would help me. Another pill. For depression. I was never reluctant to take any of my pills, but I never said when they didn't work. And these depression pills didn't help. They didn't make it worse, but they didn't make it better. What were they supposed to do? Maybe the real problem was that I don't know what they're supposed to do so I can't tell if they do it or not.
A beam of moonlight shone through the window. I turned my head to look out the window, but my eyes never made it to the moon and the outside world. Instead they fell on a small knife that was left on the table. It must have been the way that the moon hit the blade, but I couldn't seem to look away.
Hands shaking, I reached out and grasped the knife, careful not to be cut on the blade. But not careful enough. I made a small cut on my finger. A small bead of blood formed around it.
Then I remembered what I had heard about that sort of thing. Cutting. Intentionally. It's a pain release. Like how you clench your fists so tight your fingernails dig into your palms when your angry. Or tease about pulling your hair out. But this was serious. No tease. Real pain.
Rotated the knife slowly, watching the moonlight dance on the wall reflected by the clean blade. Real. Something real. Anything Real. Madison was the last real thing I had. But Madison's not here is? No. Madison's not going to save me. I'm alone here. Alone.
The taste of the word made me want to vomit. Alone. Alone. Alone. I brought the knife closer to my wrist. Alone.
Tears flooded my eyes. I could hear Madison's voice the day I left. "If it were up to me, I'd be the one with leukemia." More tears. I couldn't stop them. "I love you, Jasper."
The knife clattered to the floor as it fell out of my grasp. I couldn't do it. Cutting myself won't bring Madison to me.
I broke into uncontrollable sobs. I covered my face with my hands. I could feel my shoulders shake.
"I need her..." I managed to say through my sobs. "I need Madison..."
I allowed myself to rest back on the bed. I looked down at my wrist. Almost. I had almost done it. I forced myself to turn over. Leukemia hurt, but not as much as it hurt to be away from Madison. My eyes drifted closed from exhaustion from crying.
I need her. She saves me.