Suicidal Dreams

Suicidal Dreams
She reached for the knife, thinking only of the sweet release and endless peace that it may bring.
The point reached steadily towards the side of her chest as thoughts of her life’s pain ran selfishly through her brain, piercing her soul and crushing her heart.
The weapon was not needed. She was already too far gone to contemplate ever using it.
She tried reasoning with herself. Reaching out to her pity, thinking of loved ones that she would leave behind. But no. As it were, she knew they wouldn’t. Her release would also be theirs.
Wondering of such things makes it worse, she thinks to herself. It only pushes the knife further through her heart, as she wonders through the maze of her life, and passes scenarios of future occurrences and what may happen were she to strike herself down.
The weapon’s removal was both fast, and sleek, as she felt all the courage run away from her. It would be easier to simply hurt herself instead. Why should she give her tormentors the luxury of her suicide? The scars she would lead would show the world her suffering. Perhaps then they would realize her hurt and pity her.
A swift flick of the point towards her wrists, and moments later, wondrous rivers of red ran from her veins, and a sweet, tormented smile emerged from herself, watching it pleasidly.