Suicide Is Never Painless.

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                Emma Billsdon

Suicide Is Never Painless

Death became an easy option. She wanted to cry, but she had no time. She wanted to change her life, but she didn’t believe in miracles. For all the pain and anguish she had carried with her, it suddenly became too much to bear. Life had dealt her the last card but she had no spirit left to play with.

The darkness bit into her, memories like poison flowed through her. She fought against them, but as sleep won out she was dragged back to the past. Death became no longer merely an option but a necessity to find peace.

The pills lay next to her. They looked beautiful. She knew they could end it for her but she was so afraid. What would be waiting for her on the other side? Was there another side? All she knew was once she had gone that far, there would be no return.

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She sat there sobbing quietly, her mind tormenting her. She struggled to make sense of herself. The pain that was once emotional was now purely physical and nothing could heal it. The raw, open wounds would remain as fresh as the day they were created. Everything she had fought so hard to forget tore into her like daggers, dancing across her skin, drawing blood in a tide of crimson that stained any happiness she once had. It was tearing her apart.

She cradled the pills in her hands, like precious diamonds. With a breath of courage, she threw the pills ...

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