Tattoo || m.c.

68

Mars' eyes fluttered open and for a second she forgot that she didn't know where she was and that she was in her bedroom. That faded quickly though.

She turned her head and gasped, crawling into the corner of her bed. Insults painted on her walls and papers full of her flaws line the floor, the closet, and the nightstand.

"What did I do to deserve this?" She cried. Her mind was beginning to blur as she banged on the door, the room filled with her screams and begs. No help ever came but the black figure opened the door and appeared in the room.

In his hands were pills and a noose. Mars' eyes widened as realization hit her. She nodded as she grabbed both of them and closed her eyes.
This is what she had to do.

The voices had finally won. Her breath had slowed down as the relief flooded her body. She could be done with everything now.

Michael was still in the back of her mind. How could she just leave him? He was her one true love. He could find somebody new couldn't he? Michael never really looked at other girls though. It was always his eyes only for her. But he could be happier, couldn't he? Michael looked happy when she was moving away and before she even talked to him. They were both so different before they started talking. He was vibrant and a stereotypical teenager who partied non-stop and was always pulling pranks while she was an eating-disordered, lame teenager who had depression. What a great combination there, really.

She grabbed a chair and stood on it before grabbing the hook on top of the ceiling and attaching the top part of the noose. Mars had to do this, Michael deserved better. He always had.

"This is what you were always suppose to do," A voice whispered throughout the room, goosebumps appearing upon her skin. Mars nodded in agreement before popping open the cap of pills.

Was she really going to do this? Off herself because a random voice told her to? How could she just kill herself?