07. Caught red-handed

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"There's always a glimmer in those who have been through the dark"

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-After six months-

"I'm so damned."

If there was one thing Belle knew, apart from staring at the times new Roman words of her textbook, was that she was an A-grade klutz.

The broken coffee machine was proof, if the poor thing could speak it probably would have cried its eyes out.

This was the 35th time she had broken it and as if written by fate every other week she had it repaired.

"Why can't you just stay---in place," she whined, crouching down to pick the broken peices.

Today seemed the last day for the unfortunate coffee machine, it was literally in million peices scattered all over the floor. Unlike the previous times where it was in two or three peices, today it was uncountable.

"Hope Fate could fix you," she muttered. Fate wasn't 'the fate', that had it's special way of making her day ominous(it was routinal), but the kind hearted lady who worked at the coffee shop she worked in. She was a veteran in fixing coffee machines, she had fixed it the last 34 times too.

After expertly dumping the contents of the coffee machine into a plastic bag and throwing it on the couch she decided to have her cup of coffee. Last one from the vending machine probably.

"Atlast." Sighing, she plopped down on the couch.

"One. Two. Three." She said with every sugar cube put inside the mug and then added a pinch of cinnamon to it. She inhaled the aroma of the cinnamon and sighed dreamily.

"How pleasant you are."

She sipped the coffee mindlessly staring at the television blaring a rock song. She could feel her migraine slowly reducing.

Before it was completely gone the events of last night came crashing down on her making her choke. She started coughing out coffee so much that tears started brimming up and her nose turned a rosy pink. She haphazardly set her cup on the table and rubbed her throat trying to ease the pain.

"Freaking Heavens," she shrieked. "What was I thinking? I can't believe I could be so monumentally stupid."

"Suicide. Suicide. Freaking suicide!" It all felt like like a dream, a horrible nightmare that seemed to instantly appear and disappear from the brain. She had made a promise to herself and now she had broke it.

There was always an itch to her consciousness, that all the smiles and cries and lies were better in a wastepaper bin than in her life. She knew she was nearing her end, but never had the courage to actually end it, unlike that one attempt in California which was she trying her best to forget. Suicide had never been in her 'New York to do' list but now it seems undone. Though the blame was partially put upon the gallons of alcohol she'd consumed last night.

Girl Dead: Drunk and Careless

She could practically imagine the headlines of New York Times, if she had died the night before.

Her eyes widened in horror when a scenario of her father reading the death article popped into her mind.

"Dad is going to kill me," she pulled her knees to her chest hugging herself. A lone tear made its way down her arid cheek, "Why?"

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