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If anyone looked into her eyes, they would see that she is already dead.

She couldn’t escape the blackness, no matter how hard she tried. The razor blades and alcohol could only do so much to dull the ever present pain, the dark pulsing in her skull. Sitting on her bed, listening to the regular sounds of her family, she makes a plan. She doesn’t want to hurt them, doesn’t want her family to think that they should have done more. But if anyone really looked into her eyes, they would see that she is already dead. A shell of the girl she once was, and a cavern that now fills with the negative thoughts from too many sleepless nights, the reflections corrupting her brain. She hopes they will forgive her. She slowly walks to her desk, and pulls out some paper, writes a simple note to the world. Reaching for the rope, her hand shakes terribly. She’s practiced this plenty of times, she shouldn’t be so nervous.

As she kicks out the chair, the lone piece of paper falls from her fingertips, five delicate words screamed to an audience that never listened: I didn’t ask for it.