In this underwater silence, nothing is real, not her pain, not her sadness, nothing. The eerie calm spreading through her, completely at peace. Those images flash back, she screams. Air bubbles rise, stopping water from flooding her mouth. Her hair, floating like seaweed is pushed aside from the rising bubbles. Her eyes shoot open, her mouth closes, the silent scream ending. She rises, her nose meets the surface, breaking through, she sits up, gasping for air. Dripping hair plastered to her face, she looks around, grins then picks it up.
The sweet release, blood slowly pouring from her wrists. She sits in the bathtub, her wrists submerged, blood lazily rising, separating and mixing. She lies back, the razor slipping from adept fingers. It bounces as it hits the floor. Clack. Clack. Clack.
Panting from the exquisite feeling of release, her emotions, fear, sadness, pain, slowly rise from her wrists, being purged from her body.
As the water turns pink she laughs, still feeling the high of her emotional release.
She walks back to her room, wrists pressed against towel to hide the new marks from her mother.
Jessie smiles, soon she will be free from her prison. She knows the only way is to kill her guardian. The only person stopping her from leaving.
Sarah dries her hair, wraps it in a towel then lies back. Staring at her wrists, she mentally makes a list of the problems in her life. One by one. She thinks of an answer. The only available answer. End it all. Soon.
Jessie reaches under the bed and retrieves the handgun. She quickly returns to her room. Aware that she could be caught. She sits cross-legged on her bed and waits.
Jessie smiles, takes aim and fires.
Sarah tries to scream but its too late as the bullet races towards her, the gun falls from her hand, her body goes limp and crashes backwards onto the cold mattress. Her legs still crossed.
Jessie laughs, her vision dims she can hear someone running up the stairs.
The door slams open, Sarah’s mother bursts into the room. Before darkness closes in, she can hear her mother screaming, and a strange laugh bursting from her lips.
She was gone, she called him a bastard, and then she left. The rain fell softly on the window, thunder crashed, lightening flashed. He couldn’t live without her, he grabbed the butcher knife, the blade glinted in the lamplight, he raised it slowly, hand poised, he brought the knife down stabbing himself again and again, the knife dropped, it clattered on the floor, leaving bloody prints on the linoleum, his body landed with a thud, blood spread on the floor, he took his last breath, his life departed. The blood congealed covering his face and creating a bloody cocoon.
She had to hurry to get there to apologise, her car stopped the houses lined neatly, each one almost identical. She couldn’t see the numbers in the rain, she ran into his house.
She burst through the kitchen door; she saw him lying on the floor, face down and covered in congealed blood. Tears flowed down her face, she couldn’t live without him, she picked up the phone and rang the police, she hung up and then wrote a short note. She turned and picked up the bloody knife, she took a breath, steadying herself.
She plunged the knife into her stomach over and over, she fell, knife firmly in her hand. Her hand loosened, her life departed, she knew no pain.
The police arrived and found them there cold and lifeless, congealed in blood.
The found a note saying:
I’m sorry I couldn’t live without Mark.
They checked the mans wallet, his name was Jason.
They later found out she ran into the wrong house.