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Struggle For Life

             “Hello?” Kris answers with a sleepy voice. Her throat has not yet been cleared.
             I’m not feeling well and I don’t want to be alone right now,” I said crying. Kris’s voice is cleared now and has a hint of worry to it.
             “What’s wrong?” She asks.
             “I think I took too many aspirin.”.
             “Well. How many did you take?”.
             “Oh my god, Amanda.”.
             “Please do not tell your mom.”.
             Click. Twenty minutes later there is a knocking sound at my front door. The dog runs past me to answer with his barking. I’m halfway dressed-just pajama pants and a t-shirt, hair up and out from having been slept in. Too shaky to get dressed, I answer the door to see Kris’s face filled with dread. She says, “We’re taking you to the hospital.” I can’t hear her over the ringing in my ears.
             I’m in the backseat of the car on the way to the hospital. I’m still dressed for sleep, however long it may be. I’m aware of only ringing in my ears and a stomach full of swimming Aspirin. .
             Emergency room.
             Beside my hospital bed I see Kris. I tell her to stay with me as long as she can. I don’t want to be by myself. I don’t want to be with my mom. Nurses ask me medical questions. Counselors tell me I have a problem. I’m handed a bottle of liquid charcoal. They tell me to drink up. “If you don’t drink up,” they threaten, “we’ll be forced to insert the tubes up your nose and down your throat.” I do not argue, but instead try to keep the thick lava flowing through my volcano of a stomach. Eruption after eruption occurs with no way of stopping it, except for the dreaded plastic tubes. .
             My mom walks in. My heart drops to the floor and I feel the dam breaking. I have hurt her so bad. I have disappointed her, caused her grief, caused her anxiety, and most of all I have made her question herself.

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