If I Were to Die
No One Will Care.
The dark haired girl stared blankly at her transparent mirror-image cast onto the glossy porcelain of her bathtub as it filled slowly with hot water. The daylight illuminated the room through frosted windows as she lie dormant. She no longer cried at her reflection, nor did she scream at how horrid she found it.
She felt nothing but utter loss.
She was dead.
It didn't matter if her heart still had a steady beat.
She was long gone.
The blue tint of the room paled her skin to the point of a deathly white, accentuating the purple circles under her eyes.
Her frozen eyes.
Her gaze shifted to her body, still adorned in a white, satin slip, as she hadn't cared to take it off. She was no longer curvy and she had hardly a bosom to flaunt as she'd used to. Her waist was an unhealthy circumference, and it led to small, bone-jutting hips. Her once long, beautiful legs had become two fragile sticks that appeared so thin that they could break any moment, much like her equally weakened arms.
Feeling sick with herself, she looked back to the porcelain before her, almost as if to taunt herself.
You stupid, stupid whore. What makes you think you're good enough? Why would you ever be enough for him? You can hardly even smile anymore, who would want a depressed loser like you?
No one
So why did he stick around?
Because you're an easy lay. You'll give anything in order to be desired.
But what she saw in her reflection was nothing contingent to desirable.
She looked pathetic. It was terribly sad how such a lovely girl could transform into something so inhuman. At that thought, she glared back at her shadowed face.
You're so ugly. No one will ever love you. You should just end everybody else's misery from your useless existence and kill yourself now.
Not such bad idea. After all, who would miss her, anyway? Her boyfriend didn't love her like she did him, her mother was never home, her best friend always seemed to have better things to do than see her and her brother would rather play video games than even look upon his sorry excuse of a sister.
If I were to die, no one will care.
Her locked gaze at the distorted image before her was interrupted when the rising water engulfed it.
Soon enough, the bath was filled up to her collarbone, the clear water reminding her constantly of what she'd become. Gently and carefully, she lifted her foot to nudge the handles off with her toe.
That would be more than enough water.
Pills already contaminating her system, she slowly sunk down, easing her way into the glaringly clear liquid. She felt the surface touch her lower lip, then her nose, her eyes and finally, the top of her head.
She took a deep breath, like her psychologist always told her to, letting this new, refreshing oxygen occupy her lungs completely.
Her throat constricted, and she'd never felt more alive.
She felt nothing but utter loss.
She was dead.
It didn't matter if her heart still had a steady beat.
She was long gone.
The blue tint of the room paled her skin to the point of a deathly white, accentuating the purple circles under her eyes.
Her frozen eyes.
Her gaze shifted to her body, still adorned in a white, satin slip, as she hadn't cared to take it off. She was no longer curvy and she had hardly a bosom to flaunt as she'd used to. Her waist was an unhealthy circumference, and it led to small, bone-jutting hips. Her once long, beautiful legs had become two fragile sticks that appeared so thin that they could break any moment, much like her equally weakened arms.
Feeling sick with herself, she looked back to the porcelain before her, almost as if to taunt herself.
You stupid, stupid whore. What makes you think you're good enough? Why would you ever be enough for him? You can hardly even smile anymore, who would want a depressed loser like you?
No one
So why did he stick around?
Because you're an easy lay. You'll give anything in order to be desired.
But what she saw in her reflection was nothing contingent to desirable.
She looked pathetic. It was terribly sad how such a lovely girl could transform into something so inhuman. At that thought, she glared back at her shadowed face.
You're so ugly. No one will ever love you. You should just end everybody else's misery from your useless existence and kill yourself now.
Not such bad idea. After all, who would miss her, anyway? Her boyfriend didn't love her like she did him, her mother was never home, her best friend always seemed to have better things to do than see her and her brother would rather play video games than even look upon his sorry excuse of a sister.
If I were to die, no one will care.
Her locked gaze at the distorted image before her was interrupted when the rising water engulfed it.
Soon enough, the bath was filled up to her collarbone, the clear water reminding her constantly of what she'd become. Gently and carefully, she lifted her foot to nudge the handles off with her toe.
That would be more than enough water.
Pills already contaminating her system, she slowly sunk down, easing her way into the glaringly clear liquid. She felt the surface touch her lower lip, then her nose, her eyes and finally, the top of her head.
She took a deep breath, like her psychologist always told her to, letting this new, refreshing oxygen occupy her lungs completely.
Her throat constricted, and she'd never felt more alive.