This is a short, dark, pointless story that I co-wrote with my friend who shall be called. . . . . Bleach!


Systematic Elimination


The weather was typical, overcast and drizzling rain. With yet another typical day lurking, Bette wondered if she should even bother getting out of bed, disappointed by the fact that she had even awoken.

Like every morning, she sighed, rolled over and buried her head in the large, black pillow, hoping secretly to suffocate in the soft mound. It was the same, day in, day out. The same feeling of hate towards life and that which it involved. The constant flow of never ending people, each with a purpose and yet not heeding anyone else and theirs, turning the day into a battle just to make it to the other side of the high sun that shone down on the world, as if it were something special.

Why wouldn't death take her in quick hands? Why would she be forced to endure this reality, nothing short of unspeakable? Life had become distorted to the point, where her only sanction was in that of the degrading comfort of psychic manifestations.

Turning to the alarm clock that resided on her bedside table, she saw the time switch from 7:59 to 8 o'clock. Just like every morning, she was faced with the knowledge that she had to get up, that she had to get to work else she lose everything due to her ill will towards life in general.

She hated it, hated the feeling of being a mindless drone that went to work and did as everyone else did in a feeble attempt to work her way to the top in hopes higher and better things that could be only achieved if one had no opinion.

Today was not going to be any different. Like a grain of sand on a beach, this day was not going to be any different. Motivation to change had been lost long ago, hope crushed and the thoughts of a better life were now lost in the cycle of her hellish existence.

Pulling her unruly hair into a quick ponytail and dressing in the same uniform as everyday, she felt that hope was a lost cause. Even to think of it was to sink into an un-reversible state of self-pity and loathing that was fatal to ones soul and will to live. It consumed all, forcing any positive emotion to crumble at her feet, building an un-fixable wall of broken love, hope and happiness that surrounded her, blocking her escape into the better world that she knew lay beyond these surroundings.

Moving slowly and lethargically into the room that was apparently her kitchen; located somewhere under all the grime that had never been cleaned off in all her years living in the cluttered small apartment of the shabby building, she could not help but feel disgusted at herself.

She was weak, a pathetic excuse for a human being that used the world and allowed it to use her in return - a never ending circle yet with sharp edges that cut deep into ones mind and heart. Every night she would dream of courage, the courage to take the final step in her loathing for life and want to be free, but each and every time she pulled back, uncertain if it was what she really wanted. And yet now, now she knew, she hated this life - two steps forward and three steps back, that's how it was. A never ending parade that got her nowhere and achieved nothing to be proud of.

But a catalyst had occurred; she noticed the 5 year old casket of $5 wine in the fridge. What the hell, she drank it all, her senses had become near immune to all perception. She was drunk to the point of vertigo. Bette found herself in the bathroom, lying in a mound of glass and bottles. Amongst this mound, glistening like a halo, was a razor blade.

She picked it up, relentlessly thrusting the metal into her soft veins. Blood gushed, her vision faded. It was finally over.


The End.

Minka and Bleach.