It was a dreary September day, I suppose. Problems always exposed the true I'a I seemed like. I was sick of myself, and infact, I was sick of the atrocious life I'd been hiding from everyone that grew close to me. . .I felt resentful, since that moment.
It was easily put and done in my mind, to create a blaze that felt fiery in the moment. It'd create the suicide of my genes, where I wouldn't be recognized as the precious I'a my dear Father, once proclaimed as. My mood drastically depended on the utmost trust I had in myself to do the job. To kill myself.
The Razor. It seemed like suicide's companion for the sloppiest of jobs, but I had nowhere else to turn to, seemingly enough that a suburban area would be all flat-topped buildings that weren't as high to do the sickly dead. I, slowly glanced, at the clear drooped rain-drops simultaneously hit a pattern against the glass-paned window. 'It's a simple job, I'a, simply done, and your life is over.' I winced at the thought of that. Enjoying it seemed a bit too sadistic for my taste.
I imagined the certain things that would happened if I died, day by day, having my visions obliterate the very reason I was born. I had no appropriate friends that seemed justified enough to care about me, and my parents barely took notice of me, whether if I wasn't there at dinner, or if I wasn't home at 11:00 at night. Going down the checklist, I found that the only thing I'd really miss, would be the Victorian Era books that Grandmama sent me, since 2. It fathomed my soul reading them, and left me petrified with excitement for the next chronicle array.
I felt solemnly bare, just standing over the luke-warm bathtub. The taste of metallic blood, quenched my strange thirst, and I slipped into the water, feeling very buoyant. Centered in the wholesome tub, I shifted from spot to spot, eager to start the ritual, from here, to a better place. .or so I'd hope. The nice razor stood on the soap's main headquarters, and stared at me, as if pressuring me in the moment. I gulped in 'pure' feelings that resented the idea, and snatched up the razor. It bellowed before me, thirsting the bloodshed and tormenting my thoughts, like a hurricane at the midst of raising to it's climax.
So, there, I stood still, shaking momentarily. Shutting my eyes, I quickly swiped the blade, getting the mission accomplished. It stinged so hard, tears left my eyes in the process. I felt like crying in the moment, trying to resent the regret forming my mind. I continued to swipe my wrists so quickly, losing skin in the bathtub. Finally, stopping, my wrists were fully mutilated, and I was half-way unconcious. I felt heated, but I eventually closed my eyes, stopping the pink swelling of my eyes. 'I love you Lucinda. .', I thought remembering my favorite imaginary friend. My only friend. 'I'll miss you Chronicle. . ', I thought, thinking about the books grandmama countinued to send. After, thinking hard about those two, with my last nerves, I quivered my lip, coughing up more blood, to add to the coloring of the bathtub. But, before I could fully release the soul kept inside my body, I let one tear seep down to my cheek, with one last thought. 'Bye, life.'
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For a moment, I breathed. I breathed as hard as I could, feeling the sudden chillness coming from the air. However, for a moment, reality struck me as hard as it could. I wasn't outside, nor was I in a cold bathroom, so how could this be where I was? I had no intention of peeking through my drooped, swollen eyes, so I stayed there, laying on a wet surface, that I believed was still my bathtub. Hopefully, it actually would be.
The scuffling of feet hit me quickly though as I shook, still incredibly cold. 'W-where am I?', I thought now a bit terrified. However, being put at ease by thoughts, calming down. 'It's probably the paramedics, maybe they've put me in an ice bath. .', I continued to think soothing my emotions. But, the energy fused inside of myself, releasing other thoughts as well. So, without a doubt, Istruggled to open one eye, and blinked several times trying to capture a solid vision. At that moment, I felt freaked. "Where am I. .", I spoke under my chilled breath, puffing smoke from my mouth.
My surroundings felt obscure, and vividly in her mind. The scenery was completely depicted in classical brick building, and confections such as macaroons and cookies placed in the front of the stores she had glanced through my one open eye. Managing to open my other loose eye, I looked fully wide-eyed at the people, now. Their wardrobe seemed so fancy, and pleasant, as if they wore corsets and bloomers. 'It's like. .my stories. . ', I thought affectionately for a moment, though. However, other things seemed to cross my mind, quickly. Like for instance, the population I had been around, encountered more darker-skinned folks, rather than the few light-colored folks that seemed 'rich'. Looking around, though, orphans and packers seemed 'white', as it appeared in my color.
'Just where am I', I thought solemnly again. Glancing at myself, however, I seemed as bit civil as the few 'fancy' whites passing through. A short-cut teired dress, with navy and light blue colors, showcased my nice curves, with nice black loafers, slipped onto white stockings. I seemingly looked a bit pleased with my looks, and touched my own thin black hair that was still layered. My porcelain skin complextion stood out, among the crowd, as I grew a bit more curious. Getting up, my bones ached entirely, like I'd fallen out've the sky. Looking at both sides, a risk crossed my mind.
'Really. . just where am I?'
