"I need to stop this shit, but I can't. Not without him." Her loud cries turn into soft and quiet whimpers. The memories flood back. She left him broken, hurting. Now she's paying the price. The burning scrap book is still there. She's surprised the fire alarm hasn't went off. She beats herself up, with a knife in hand.
She places the knife down, but searches for something else. Her blood still drips from the base all the way down to the wrist, nothing but line with the liquid pouring out. After a few minutes she pulls out a pill bottle.
The paper says, "Recommended dose: 1 pill every 12 hours." She pours all the pills into her hand. She counts them one by one. "Twenty, that should be enough." Her hand is shaking, but she takes the pills. Everything feels okay for a few minutes, she just sits on the floor. Numb.
"Goodbye." She says briskly. She gets up and lays on the undressed bed. She closes her eyes, and never opens them. The memories flood back to her head. Her parents, the abuse, foster homes, and meeting him. All regrets. This is her final decision.
Three days later her parents find her on the bed. She looked peaceful, for the first time in her life. They take the body to the hospital for an autopsy. They have the funeral a few days later. It was set in a chapel. Even though she didn't believe in God.
No one knew that, she said she went to church. When she sits in her room numbing the pain. They bury her right next to him. The two graves rest with restless souls. That will be stuck in torture. Because of the tragic decisions.
DU LIEST GERADE
State of Self Decay, Pt. 1
KurzgeschichtenA man and women make tragic decisions only in early life. Only because of pain that would've subsided. But this story is meant for you to find peace in. And realize either people go through that stuff, but don't make the decision they did. Reach out...
