The Melancholy Death of a Tormented Soul

Music blared in the all black room. The child that sat alone on her bed cried inwardly at the battle that she was ever so slowly losing.

She felt her strength as it ebbed away from her. She felt no need to try to hold on to anything in her life any longer. She felt a pain, that was much too great for any one person to hide, and especially for someone who was so inwardly frail and suffering.

Looking around, she tried to assess if she had anything that she wanted to give to any of her few friends. It registered all too painfully in her mind that nothing in her life much mattered to her or to anyone else. And everything in her room would be thrown away once she was gone.

Slowly she stood up and walked to the far side of her room. A small and delicate dagger hung from her wall, along with her other swords and daggers that made up her gleaming collection.

She took the dagger from the wall and stared at it, longing for the bravery that she knew she would need if she was to do what it was she wanted to do the most.

Someone on the other side of the apartment she vaguely heard her parents talking to her sister. Her sister the perfect child. Her sister… the soon to be only child.

She sat on her bed and slowly unsheathed the finely sharpened dagger. Calmly she thought back to all the books that she had read, and back to all of the conversations that she had had with various people…yet she still wasn't sure which way to make the cut.

Many people would have given up with that, many people would have said that it was a sign not go through with it. Many people would tell her that she was utterly wrong for making the decision that she was about to make. Many people would one day soon call her weak and cowardly for doing what she was about to do. Many people would one day soon be happy to be rid of such an annoyance like herself.

Slowly but surely she began to remove her bracelets and her watch. One bracelet off, her favorite, the one with the metal spikes. Her watch, now was removed, a gift from the store that she had stolen it from because she hadn't been able to get her parents to lend her fifteen dollars. The other bracelets were themselves, as nameless and as unnoticeable as she was.

She griped the dagger and pressed it to her skin. First she drug it across horizontally, just beneath her wrist. And then she drug it up her arm, up to where the marks showed from her shooting up cocaine. She did this to her other arm as well.

Her vision became blurry…she fell back on her bed. Through her dizziness she pulled the black covers over already cold and shivering body.

She died that night…in her own bed. And no one found her corpse for three days. Because she had no one to care for her enough to check on her.

One year after her death her family had renovated her old room. Now, in place of the purple glow that the black light had once given it there was a 60 watt florescent light, lighting the room with what seemed to be the harnessed power of the sun. Covering up her beautiful black walls was now a bright sky blue, giving the room the appearance of the noon sky. Her window lay open, and in blew a crisp spring breeze, filling the room with the fresh aroma of spring.

And where once sat her bed, there now was a crib. And inside laid a small child. He was the brother that she never would see. And he was predestined to end just like she.

I was in a fairly depressed mood when I wrote this (but then again, I usually am depressed) and I scared a few of my friends with it. Oh, and I do know the correct way to cut to kill yourself. As my girlfriend says, "It's down the street not across the road." I hope you like it, please review.