Status: Active Once More
The Girl Who Cried Rape
Don't Make This Easy
For some to live is the greatest gift life can give you, to me it isn’t.
I am just waiting, waiting for the perfect moment to end it all. I have been waiting for so long now and I know it will only be a few more minutes until I am gone and god does that feel wondrous.
Soon I will be forgotten and that seems like more than I could ever ask for in one lifetime. For some people to be forgotten is terrifying, really just scary to not have been remarkable enough in life to make an impact on someone. But that doesn’t really bother me, if anything I just want to make the least amount of impact that I can and eventually be forgotten by everyone.
My parents are going out tonight, and I am going to make the most of our empty house. I must use my time wisely if I do what I have planned to late they might be able to save me but too early they might hear and try to stop me.
I need to wait until the time is perfect, until I am sure they are gone and I am truly alone, physically and metaphorically. My parents are going out for a romantic dinner, I am waiting for the front door to click shut before I lock my bedroom door.
I wait patiently until the door clicks and then I rush to the window and watch as the car pulls away from the driveway and eventually around the corner and out of sight. I stare at the road for a good ten minutes before I am certain they are not coming back.
They aren’t and now is the perfect time.
I lock my door like I have done so many times in the past, only tonight is different. The air is strange, thick with tension almost, making it even harder for me to breathe. I walk over the fluffy carpet of my bedroom floor and make my way to my personal bathroom my parents installed when they remodelled with house a few years ago after deciding they were definitely not having any more children. My footsteps are silent on the cold linoleum floor, but to me they echo with heaviness and pain. I am silent as I walk to the bathroom cupboard,
To my escape.
To my freedom.
To my death.
The cupboard door makes a small squeak as it always does when I pull it open, I pause staring at myself in the mirror, the girl who stares back at me has been dead for quite some time, no one has bothered to notice.
I have come to learn that people only see what they want to and I am nothing more than a lying slut because they want me to be. They would rather believe the lies than hear the harsh truth and that is sad but really the least of my worries tonight.
I draw a warm bath and step inside still in my pink pyjama’s. I let the warm water engulf my fragile body and smile. I lean back and allow myself to relax for the first time in days and god does it feel good.
I reach my arm out to the shelf where I had placed the pills a few moments earlier and grasp the sleeping pills I had stolen from my mother before she and my father left. I know exactly how many I need to take; I have been doing my research.
When I attempt this I want it to be permanent, I don’t want anything to go wrong and nothing should, every last detail has been accounted for and I am ready. I shake out a handful of pills and swallow them with bath water not caring that it is dirty and lay my head back on the bathtub basin wanting for sleep to come and for death to take me.
Shouldn’t be long now.
I am just waiting, waiting for the perfect moment to end it all. I have been waiting for so long now and I know it will only be a few more minutes until I am gone and god does that feel wondrous.
Soon I will be forgotten and that seems like more than I could ever ask for in one lifetime. For some people to be forgotten is terrifying, really just scary to not have been remarkable enough in life to make an impact on someone. But that doesn’t really bother me, if anything I just want to make the least amount of impact that I can and eventually be forgotten by everyone.
My parents are going out tonight, and I am going to make the most of our empty house. I must use my time wisely if I do what I have planned to late they might be able to save me but too early they might hear and try to stop me.
I need to wait until the time is perfect, until I am sure they are gone and I am truly alone, physically and metaphorically. My parents are going out for a romantic dinner, I am waiting for the front door to click shut before I lock my bedroom door.
I wait patiently until the door clicks and then I rush to the window and watch as the car pulls away from the driveway and eventually around the corner and out of sight. I stare at the road for a good ten minutes before I am certain they are not coming back.
They aren’t and now is the perfect time.
I lock my door like I have done so many times in the past, only tonight is different. The air is strange, thick with tension almost, making it even harder for me to breathe. I walk over the fluffy carpet of my bedroom floor and make my way to my personal bathroom my parents installed when they remodelled with house a few years ago after deciding they were definitely not having any more children. My footsteps are silent on the cold linoleum floor, but to me they echo with heaviness and pain. I am silent as I walk to the bathroom cupboard,
To my escape.
To my freedom.
To my death.
The cupboard door makes a small squeak as it always does when I pull it open, I pause staring at myself in the mirror, the girl who stares back at me has been dead for quite some time, no one has bothered to notice.
I have come to learn that people only see what they want to and I am nothing more than a lying slut because they want me to be. They would rather believe the lies than hear the harsh truth and that is sad but really the least of my worries tonight.
I draw a warm bath and step inside still in my pink pyjama’s. I let the warm water engulf my fragile body and smile. I lean back and allow myself to relax for the first time in days and god does it feel good.
I reach my arm out to the shelf where I had placed the pills a few moments earlier and grasp the sleeping pills I had stolen from my mother before she and my father left. I know exactly how many I need to take; I have been doing my research.
When I attempt this I want it to be permanent, I don’t want anything to go wrong and nothing should, every last detail has been accounted for and I am ready. I shake out a handful of pills and swallow them with bath water not caring that it is dirty and lay my head back on the bathtub basin wanting for sleep to come and for death to take me.
Shouldn’t be long now.