Unrated

Suicide

She left the note on the desk. She stepped into the camo colored flip flops that were on the floor. The dying light that pierced the soft, cotton curtains made her brown hair shine gold and her caramel colored eyes turn to the eyes of a volcano goddess, but the bright light shining on the eyes of the poor, sad creature could never dispel the darkness inside them nor the heaviness from the muscle in her chest that rapidly pumped blood for her regrettable life day after day, without so much as a thank you. The prominent veins that ran through her arms felt this steady beating, for there was nothing else to feel. She raised her left arm and her finger twitched, thus ending the once ceaseless drumbeat that was expected to go on for many more years that merely 20, and one that was expected to be ended by the forces of nature, not the twitch of a young finger that still hadn't experienced the world outside of the place that was barely able to exist, nestled away in the deep south of her country in the heat with the bugs and the shotguns. The body hit the floor, only an ugly hole barring the forehead and the long, bony fingers with thick blue lines that no longer carried the message of life looking smaller now that they no longer had a purpose. The telegram of life that they were meant to deliver had finished, thus they were finished with this life and this world. Without another word, the one too young to enter such a place passed on from this existence and into another.