The girl with the raven black hair was not long for the world. She lay naked amidst a tangle of red stained sheets on her bed, empty glass eyes to the ceiling. Hazy clouds of thoughts drifted through her drug emptied mind, but she couldn't focus on a single one. It has been ten hours since the other girl had left, and she could still see her walking out the door, still could smell her perfume on the bed, still could see her own reflection in her eyes. Everything but the girl herself was still there, and this made her absence a hundred times worse.
Scissors streaked with rivets of blood lay next to her, almost picturesque in the light fractions from the shades. It was raining hard, harder than the girl could ever remember, but maybe that was the pills talking. The constant tapping of the drops provided a background symphony to the ordeal. The beat of the water faded in and out, twisting, dancing on the fading remnants of her trip. The noise harmonized with the throbbing of her wrists and the fading beat of her heart, which is slowly getting weaker as it pumps blood out of the slices.
Everything hurts like nothing else has ever hurt before, but she has to take it. One last little bit of pain, and then it all would be done. When she first decided to kill herself, she didn't think it would be like this. She thought it would be much warmer and fuzzier, especially with the pills, something to take her home. It wasn't. It was cold, dark, and lonely. It was full of misery and pain. Not what she expected, not what she was looking for.
The pain in her heart is worse than the pain in her wrists, or at least that's what she keeps telling herself. The world is so fuzzy every thought has to be repeated, a mantra in her head until her brain picks up on what she is actually saying. Her connection to the conscious world is breaking, and soon she will be past the point of no return.
Natalie. The girl with the raven black hair loved her, and she had thought Natalie loved her back. But ten hours ago she had been told otherwise. Natalie had only carried on the relationship as something trifling, amusing, breaking it off when the girl with the raven black hair got too serious. For her, there is nothing that could be worse. It is seeing that lack of care in someone you love that is the brutal part, the blatant disregard and lack of respect that cuts and stabs. When she heard the fire and brimstone coming out of Natalie's mouth, the same mouth that she had lovingly kissed and stroked only days before, it was too much to handle. It destroyed her.
And this is where it has brought her. At the end of a high, bleeding profusely from self inflicted cuts all along her forearms, dying slowly. She sighs deeply, breathing out a little more life, sinking deeper into the hungry, consuming haze. It is getting easier to take, easier to deal with. She just wants it to be over, just wants it to be gone.
She rolls over, and then falls off the bed, barely realizing it. Her limp body hits the floor with a violent thump. She doesn't feel it. But someone in the apartment below hears it. He eyes drift to close and she curls up on the hardwood floor. Everything becomes dark and soft, slight like a dream and without definition. She is on the edge now, strolling toward the precipice lazily, slipping to the point of no return.
She doesn't hear the rain anymore. She doesn't hear the insistent knocking. She doesn't hear the loud crash of her door breaking down, and she doesn't hear the forlorn sirens that carry her off into the night.