This was written as a response for a FastFiction prompt on WordTrip. 230 Words. Kind of dark, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

If it wasn’t for my consideration for others, I’d have been dead a long time ago. I stand poised in front of the mirror, knife, noose, pills, in hand. I breathe and close my eyes, prepared to take the plunge, and her face pops up: my mother’s. His face pops up: my father’s. Their tear stained cheeks pale; their trembling hands clinging to each other. I have a sudden flash of my best friend wandering around school, lost and confused, waiting for my return, knowing I never will. I groan in frustration and toss the murder weapon of the day to the tiled floor. “This is never going to work,” I sigh and sink to the floor. I lean my head back onto the bathroom cabinet and as I glance over at the discarded would-be weapon, I realize that maybe my consideration for others has nothing to do with why I’m still here. Maybe, if it wasn’t for my fear, I would kill myself. Maybe if it wasn’t for my shaking hand. Maybe for my enthusiasm, or lack there of. I close my eyes, sigh, and begin to stand. I put the pills back in the bottle; the knife goes back in the tool shed; the rope is thrown in the fire place; all where they belong, and all where they’ll stay.

If it wasn’t for hope, I’d kill myself.