[[swearing + depression + self-harm + suicide]]
As her bloodied and pain-ridden hands skipped over the keys of the laptop, leaving bloody fingerprints on them, her breath rattled in her throat, forcing every nerve in her body to tense, then painfully retract on the outbreath.
She had never been so scared in her life - or so sure of herself.
All her life, she'd been bullied, ridiculed, pointed at and taunted. She had scars - physical and mental - which made it no easier. Every time she got close to someone, they would hurt her. Her only constant friend was her blade - a sharp, flat knife she kept under her mattress.
Her Catholic upbringing made no difference either - she'd been raised to pray to God every night and before every meal, and in return He would grant her what she needed to be happy.
She'd fulfilled her end of the bargain - but God had other ideas. Instead, He sent down a neverending torrent of pain and sacrifices for her to bite down on. He never gave her anything except suffering, and she was sick of it.
So before she began typing on the laptop, she cursed God for his cruelty and sliced open her wrists. She swore at Him and yelled and as she stood, hyserical, in the centre of her trashed room, her wrists bled down her hands and dripped onto the carpet and between her toes. She looked down - realised the blood - and said, "O God, is this what You want?" She threw her head back and screamed, "Is this what You fucking command? I've only ever done what you goddamn wanted! And this is what I get? This life?!"
She dropped to her knees and held her blonde head, her hands soaking her fair hair that her godforsaken grandmother loved so fucking much. When she had screamed her throat raw, she stood, straightened her now red tanktop and walked calmly to her desk. She sat down and started to type.
'dear everyone,
im not going to say im sorry, because im not. im glad that this was made possible for me - this death, i mean. you may call it cruel or unfair, or even selfish, but i call it escape. i call it a way out of this damn hell - the proverbial light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.
before you despair too much, or worry that i wont make it to heaven, hear this: heaven doesnt want me, and hell doesnt deserve me. i shall be quite happy just being dead. theres no place i need to be, and no place i want to be. i just want to be undisturbed and at rest, and hopefully ive found that.
anyway, i best be off. before these cuts leak too much blood and i pass out - wouldnt want that. i want to die, not fall asleep.
im not scared. im not sad. finally, after sixteen years of unfair and inhumane treatment, i am happy - or as close as i can get. the life i was given, it isnt easy, and wont go away unless i tell it to.
and this is its final warning.
goodbye.
fuck off.'
She sat back, admiring the note. She clicked Print and stood. Stumbling and lightheaded, she clumsily went to the printer and pulled the paper from it. Looking over the page, she nodded. It was good - and it was final. It sounded very much like a last song - the final Ballad of Panicking Disco-Goers, the all time high of an All Time Low.
She placed it in the middle of her bedroom floor, on top of the most precious thing she owned - the body of the first pet she had ever had, freshly slaughtered. An old Jack Russell, the closest thing she could have to a best friend and closest companion.
Numbly, she reached for the noose she had prepared hours before. It hung from a strong beam in the ceiling - one she'd swung on many times as a child. She knew with utter certainty that it would hold.
Breathing heavily and sweating now, she stepped up onto the step ladder. She put the noose over her head and tightened it slightly. She glanced at the dead body of her pet and the note resting on top. She looked down at her feet on top of the step ladder - the carpet on either sides of it was soaked with her blood. She realised how much she had lost.
Drawing in one last breath - the most painful she'd ever taken, but the most relieving - she stepped from the step ladder.
The last thing her deranged eye saw before she left was the pained faces of her parents bursting through her bedroom door.
