She held her suicide note in her right hand and a glass of water in the left. She stood staring at the standing picture frame, containing an old picture, on the coffee table. Tears streamed down her cheeks- she didn’t understand! Her legs began to wobble, she felt short of breath, the room began to spin-she needed to sit, she told herself. She gently but clumsily let herself down into the old sofa right beside the coffee table-spilling some water on her faded jeans trousers in the process.

She had thought of the best, simplest and fastest way to kill herself-an overdose of sleeping tablet seemed to be the best option. she couldn’t stand the thought of hanging herself, or shooting her brains out or piercing her tummy with a knife-that seemed to cause excruciating pain. From the many movies she had watched, it seemed to be the worst way to die and the victim almost always got caught. She didn’t want her life to be saved. She just wanted to end it all.

Everything was out of hand- nothing seemed to make any sense anymore.

‘Life is not worth living anymore.’ she softly whispered to herself over and over.

She placed the glass of water on the table with shaky hands.With her left hand, she searched her right pocket for the container containing the pills. She felt nothing. She pushed her hand lower in her pocket but still felt nothing. She pulled her hand out of her left and pushed it into the right pocket, pushing all the way down to the very bottom of the pocket- she still felt nothing.

She didn’t understand, she had placed-

‘Might you be looking for these?’ …..


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