I didnt tell anyone at school. I was breaking enough on my own, and I didnt need anyone throwing rocks at me too. I kept silent through most of the day, distancing myself from everyone I loved. In the back of my mind was a nagging dsire to force myself to feel, a blistering pain that sounded much too inviting. I had a razor in my bag. It wouldnt have been difficult to slip into the bathroom, where the cameras and the prying eyes couldnt see.

At lunch I descended the steps into the Commons quickly, eager to absorb the atmosphere that I was hoping my friends would offer me. I was not expecting to see Melissa darting across te Commons, dodging bodies, a look of sheer terror upon her face.

"Reina!" She cried, crashing into me. Her hands clutched at me. "Someone told Xander you were dead."

I creased my brow, attempting frantically to make sense of both her words and her hysteria. "But-"

"Reina," she hissed. "He just went into the bathrooms across school. He wants to die too."

And that was the point at which I snapped. The point at which i realized there was no point. Not anymore. "I cant get to him," I murmured in a daze. "I'll never get across school in time."

I only then noticed that Melissa was crying. I was so tired of teardrops. "I dont know," she whispered.

Something sparked inside of me, a new desire altogether. One I'd never known before. Shaking Melissa off, I gripped tightly at the straps of my tote. "Get out of my way," I hissed, but I was pushing her aside without even waiting. I was fairly certain she was calling me back, but I was moving farther and farther away. My head should have been swarming with the roar of the Commons and the overwhelming intensity of it all. But my mind was perfectly clear as I pushed into the bathroom. I didnt know if Melissa would follow. I didnt particularly care.

Throwing my bag up onto the counter, I began to rummage through until I found it. I pulled it out slowly, savoring the cool relief it brought to my fingertips. The razor was dull from overuse and then lengthy neglect. Still, it would draw blood. And that was what it was all about, wasnt it?

Even in the height of my cutting, I'd never really wanted to die. But at that moment, imagining Xander slumped against the wall of some bathroom across school, rushing suby rivulets dancing down his skin, thinking of my mother in her box underground, I did. I wanted to die too.

The gasping pain was so familiar. With wide, lustful eyes, I watched the skin of my wrist part like lips for a seductive kiss, the final kiss. Then I glanced at my reflection, pale complexion and terrorized expression, and closed my blue eyes. I pressed harder, sliced deeper, curled my toes against the pain. Colors swirled behind my lids as the nausea washed over me.

Some people describe death as the real world slipping away from their grasp.


I fully let go.  

The End

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