Some Suicides are Never Recorded

She did her best to fix her make-up in the cracked mirror. The bruise right above her left eyelid was beginning to turn a nasty blue-black color and that would be bad for business. Although, did it really matter? No one would be able to see her face in the dimly lit room. Which was for the best, her once youthful face told her life story. Childhood dreams gone wrong, abuse, and neglect. She now looked much older than her twenty three years.
“Selene, you have five minutes, “Another lost girl, Claire, patted her on the shoulder as she walked into another room.
Selene took a deep breathe as she stood. Her hands were shaking rapidly, mostly from nervousness, maybe from withdrawal. She still felt a gut wrenching feeling in her stomach. The only proof she was still “living”.

Screams, moans, and crying filled the darken hallway. Selene let her hand touch each of the familiar wooden doors until she reached the room she was accustomed too. A haggard man stood leering over the dirty mattress. As Selene walked in his eyes turned to her and he smiled a toothless grin. Selene tried to make her self numb as his paw like hands ravaged her body. She tried to think of how she got in this position as she was pushed against the ratty mattress.

Her whole life as a child was spent dreaming. She wasn’t one to live in reality much. Everybody knew Selene wanted to be an actress, and with her bubbly personality and natural talent, no one doubted she would make it. However, making it was so much harder than she thought. She blew all of her money on fancy photos, and failed acting classes. Then, in her darkest hour, she tried the one thing that would ruin her life forever: heroin.

As the man made sloppy thrusts into her, Selene realized something. She was the “living dead”. And it that moment she knew that not all suicides were recorded.