Until 27 || 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐣𝐢

04

"Thanks for the ride, lover boy." Y/n said and pulled out the gun to point at the mans forehead.

Hanma chuckled and also flashed her panties, "You're Welcome, pretty lady." He said and quickly hid it back to his pocket when she tried to grab it.

Y/n smiled tiredly at the man, and got out of his mustang. When she reached the front door she removed the heels since it was starting to hurt.

After inserting the key she threw the purse to somewhere she won't find ever again in the morning. The same thing go for the poor heels, as she walked barefoot to grab a water inside the fridge.

Grabbing a tall glass and pouring a cold water inside to drink, gulping every drop as she walk towards the stairs.

Entering the first room to the right she putted the glass on her table, and threw her frail body to a huge white bed.

She covered her eyes with her arms and turned her body to face the huge window beside her.

It was always the same, every time she go home. Its always that stupid feeling to face the four cornered dark room again and again.

Her birthday, did have something special well atleast just this year. She won't even meet him next time, maybe; who knows?

Thoughts filled with mixed things from the previous events, but she just cant get rid of the man.

Maybe, some part of him; inside to be specific. felt sincere when he didn't killed her. But thats Absurd, well everything is when it comes to her life.

She gazed over her standard black clock at her table, thats a rough night she thought.

Everything was just an illusionary peace to keep her going, it was merely a distraction for her depressed self. Shes quite good at masking it sometimes.

Quitting therapy did not made her feel less like any guilt inside. They just continue to fill your brain up with stupid chemicals to fix it as if its a cold or a band aid.

It was not, it was just a fragment of a non-existent person she created in order to continue on feeling okay. Medicine made it worst, it was never not once an option to fix her. Only time can;

Out of the blue she pulled herself up to find the old journal she had a few years ago, scattering anything that looks like a hindrance to find one.

Until the clean room looked messy again, she then leaved the room to try and find it inside her mini office next door.

Checking every single cabinet, binders, and you know places to put something.

She glady found the nearly not-so recognizable shape. It used to have random stickers, and a plain white cover. Now dusted with stains and torns.

While blowing the dust away she grabbed a pen. It was color blue, though it appeared black since theres not enough light.

Y/n returned to her room after finding it and flipping a few pages away. Since she already thought of therapy, she remembered something that her doctor prescribed.

Well she was utterly depressed during those times, and doesn't have the energy to do it. She sat on the veranda's chair and crossed her legs.

It was the only thing that she kept holding on, before tempting herself to the depths of oblivion.

This year, maybe can let her not go or say welcome to it. Depending if the advised activity will work.

Maybe there is still something, that doesn't want her to die yet. That she still have hopes, that she's scared of dying.