Beginning of Failure

All I needed to end it was set out. I wanted it to be quick, painless. The way I was going was neither.

My parents would be home in a couple of hours, so I had some time. I picked up a pen and a piece of paper and started on my note:

Dear Loves,

You hopefully know at this point that I love you all very much. I love you more than I want to be free, and trust me, that's a lot.

I'm writing this to you to let you know I'm sorry if I pained you or hurt you. I will always love you and remember you.

Love,

Annabell.

I looked down at the tear-stained paper. My hand was shaking so badly I could barely control the pen. I guess you would get what I was trying to say.

The tears were running freely now, beautiful and clear. I took a look at my reflection in the mirror. My long, black hair cascaded down past my shoulders, freckles played across my noes. My tear-stained eyes were a ming-boggling shade of electric green.

The tears on my face were clear, peaceful. Kind of a reminder of how much I wanted out.

I looked at the knife I had set out. Longing took over as I grabbed it. I took the handle and gave it a squeeze, this was it.

The blade was longer than I usually would have chosen, but it worked. I slowly lowered it onto my forearm, tracing the vein. It turned a purplish shade of blue. I put more pressure on it and the blood beaded on the surface, causing me to sigh.

This was amazing. I loved it. I took the blade and shoved it into my main vain, savoring the feeling.

Slowly my arm drained. I mustered up enough energy to get myself to the sink. I turned on the water and put my arm under it. It started out a rusty shade of black-red and ended up clear as water.

It ended clear as my tears.