Fog of Uncertainty

         The struggle was daily. Never knowing what would have happen next. Was she ready to be done? She had become a self-loathing woman. For as long as she could remember, she never felt she was good enough. Everything she did, never amounted to anything. Always failing. Even her relationships were failures. Her father left when she was young. Her mother resented and blamed her for her own shortcomings and failures. All her attempts at a successful marriage, ultimately failed. She'd been lied to and cheated on. In the end, it was always her fault, leaving her guilt-ridden.

         Despite it all, at first, she was resilient. She felt she was coming out stronger and more determined with each unsuccessful obstacle. She tried to be optimistic, but failure was deeply embedded in her. The more she fell, the deeper into the abyss she sank. That was another challenge she faced, trying to escape the abyss.

         There were countless night she lay awake, contemplating her existence. She feared making even the simplest of decisions, such as cleaning house. She was afraid no one would step in and help. Then the house would fall apart then be labeled as lazy and uncouth. Should she express her pain, she was often dismissed and belittled. They would manipulate her in terms they weren't good enough for her. She was thought of being overbearing and a complete bitch. No matter what she said, nothing changed. Even with proof to make a point, it would still get turned around to make her feel she was delusional or that she was at fault.

         Day after day, she walked through the fog of uncertainty. Does she want to know what's in store for her tomorrow? Or does she want to end it all now? She knew nothing was going to change. The lies will continue, the deception will always linger within reach, the pain never fully subsiding.

         She was ready to end it. Ready to suffer in hell with the rest of the cowards. She will leave the world behind. Leave everyone to wonder what happened and why. Would anyone care or miss her? What would happen if she failed and survived? The look of pity and disappointment would be seen in the eyes of those she loved. Would the attempt finally open their eyes? Or would they treat her like an embarrassment and never looked at with love, only disgust? Then what of the strangers who hear about it on social media, or the local news? The awkward stares and whispers behind her back, "How can she do that to her family." Either way, she felt it was another thing to add to her list of failures.

         She went through the pros and cons but she still couldn't decide what to do. She wondered how long it would be before someone noticed her absence. The husband she once loved and adored had taken custody of their two young daughters as she lacked the resources to continue fighting. Would her daughters understand? Would they ever forgive her for not being able to continue fighting for them?

         Ryn slowly lowered her pen and rested it on the paper. She looked up and stared at the woman across from her. Her almond-shaped, ocean blue-green bloodshot eyes were haunting. When she blinked, think lashes disposed a black tear that slowly made it's way down and over sun-kissed, tanned cheeks, leaving a black trail as it dripped off the tip of her heart-shaped chin. Her plump, pink lips quivered as her narrow, pointy, swollen red nose trickled.

         "Don't you do it, Ryn," a soft female voice whispered, startling her. Ryn turned in her chair and looked around the room, but no one was there. She looked back at the woman and saw a hint of fear in her eyes.

         "Please don't," the voice pleaded.

         Ryn stood quickly from her chair. "Who's there? Show yourself," she demanded, her voice was low but stern. She walked to the middle of the room, then frantically began searching the room. It was dark, lit only by a single candle. Four tall cathedral windows with red heavy velvet drapes lined the wall behind her. She raced to the windows and pulled the first set of drapes open, allowing the moonlight in. The sky was clear and the stars twinkled brightly as the full moon glowed. She ran down the line and opened all the drapes. After opening the last one, she swung around and faced the room. Even in the moonlight, the room was still dark with only the candle on the vanity.

         She demanded again, "Who's there? Show yourself." Her voice was louder this time. Still, no one appeared. Hugging herself, Ryn slowly walked back to the vanity. She looked down at the note and read it once more before reaching into the side drawer, pulling out an envelop with her initials "R.M." printed on the top left corner. She meticulously folded the note and stuffed it into the envelop. On the front, she scribed his name then propped it against the vanity mirror.

         She looked into the mirror, staring at the woman she saw one last time. She swiped away the black streaks then brushed a little blush to look fresh. She reapplied her strawberry colored lipstick, then blew out the candle.

         She walked to the window closest to her and admired the dark midnight blue sky. The stars twinkled randomly. If she paid close attention, she thought they were twinkling in unison to Debussy's Clair de Lune. She closed her eyes and imagined the stars and moon dancing.

         After a few moments, she opened her eyes and smiled up at the sky. "I'm ready," she whispered. She slowly pulled all the drapes closed then rounded to the side of the bed, pulled down the covers and sat at the edge. She grabbed a glass and scooped up a handful of small white pills. Without hesitating, she threw her head back and tossed the pills into her mouth and gulped down then entire glass of water. She winced while she swallowed then gagged at the bitter aftertaste. Placing the glass back on the night stand, she climbed into bed, pulling the heavy comforter up, tucking it underneath her armpits then folded her hands on top of her chest.

         Ryn stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to overcome her. "I am ready," she whispered. Imagines of her life played like a movie reel in her mind. Playing every emotional moment that had brought her to this. As her eyes become too heavy to keep open, she could hear her mother's voice and imagine the sneer on her face as she scoffs, "I always knew you were weak." Then nothing.