I listened to the sound of the knife slicing my flesh open.

I smiled, it was my first smile in several months. I loved that sound more than anything. It was the only thing that had been able to comfort me in my moments of pain recently. However, this slicing would be the final one. I still had my other wrist, but this would be the last time I'd ever hear the sound of my skin opening. I'd have to listen extra close and savor the sound this time.

I watched the blood beginning to pool out of my wrist and smiled. It wouldn't be long. I was sitting on my floor, watching the blood stain my white carpet red. I sliced the other wrist open, enjoying the sound one last time. The blood began flowing just as quickly, and I tossed the knife to my side. It was of no use to me any longer.

I watched the crimson liquid of life spread, staining my carpet permanently. My family would never be able to get those stains out. It would be the permanent monument to me, the final little reminder of the girl who had lived there, the girl who was crazy.

It was quite boring now, now that there was nothing left to do but sit and wait to die. The initial excitement had begun to wear off, and the finality of my decision was beginning to set in. I could still turn back.


I accepted my choice. I was going to die.

Drip, drip, drip. Each drop of blood hit the ground freshly. Crimson tears, little reminders of the life slowly leaving my body. Who would find me here? I hoped it would be my mother. She would panic, pass out, unable to believe the site that lay before her. I laughed as I imagined her reaction.

I hadn't laughed in almost a year.

Minutes passed. I watched my clock, watched the minutes tick by. Slowly my life drained away. I passed closer to death with each drop of blood I lost.

Soon, I remember no more. Darkness took over me, and I blacked out.