Soulless Whispers

Wretched whispers stain the back of her mind as she stares at her own reflection, disgusted with her own display. Those eyes, once so happy and rich with life, are left with emptiness leaving her own soul unarmed to her own hareful words. That face, so pink and full before, now blotched and sunken with only the palest of colors. The whispers, "You'll never do a thing with this life," how strange that the sound of this voice resembles hers; Yet her lips move not once.
"This is it," the voice hisses at her, repeating over and over, " this is it." A hand rises from below the mirror's watch into full view holding her ending in its' palm. The truth shimmers off of the blade's sharp edge, provoking hot tears to slide down her pale cheek. Each soaking drop warms her skin reminding her that she is still a soul, that her worth may be more than she thinks.
The whispers. Devil.
"The end," she thinks, " so abrupt, yet so peaceful." Her eyes wander from her own complextion to the gleaming of the blade, held tightly in her hand.
"Can I really?" Her thoughts question her, with the answer following closely behind, "Yes." She moves her empty stare along her wrist, her eyes slowly scan her forearm, the black and blue spotted about her arm fuel her motivation. Growing in anger, her thoughtrs drift to the numbing pain around her collar. Her free hand rises to soothe what it can as tears spill more onto her broken face.
"That face," she gazes into the mirror again, "I can hardly recognize you. So young, but you look nothing of the sort." Again, she looks to her bruises, "How could you have done this?" Those whispers ask harshly. The pain grows more intense as her free hand rubs her broken collar bone, the bruises around her arms pang annoyingly at her skin.
"You're a disgusting creature," they whine inside of her head. "Now end it all!" Her lips move slightly with every thought now as she forces her legs to walk towards the bathtub. Steam rises from the even surface of the water, tempting her weary body and soul.
"This is it," she softly says, blade in hand, as she gently slips her body into the calm, hot water. Her body pierces the surface and soaks up every sensation the water can offer. She falls into the steam as she inhales, stretching her lips into a peaceful smile as she exhales.
The blade works its' way into her skin, along the top of her forearm, bringing her to her end, and her peace.

*******

A soft breeze rolls through the air, the group simaltaneously pulls their coats tighter against their bodies. The pastor's voice hums on as small droplets splatter against shoulders, heads, and backs. He closes his prayer and an immediate and hollow, "Amen," seeps through the small crowd.
Roses slip through fingers and fall atop the cold, smooth chamber. Some slide off, some rest on top mimicking what lay inside.
Thunder slowly rumbles, approaching cautiously.
"This?" A small broken voice weeps as she cradles her own body, "this is it?" She looks upward. The heavens, her enemy, "The end?" Her tears invisible behind the pouring rain.
"This," she repeated staring into the black earth, "this is all, now."