Her eyebrows
furrowed.
She was not
expecting this.
The knife
she retrieved from the kitchen refused to cooperate with her.
As she
squeezed it in her fist,
the blade
ceased to cut her palm.
She wanted
to see her blood spill all over her bed sheets.
This was her
relief from the pain she was going through.
She stared
at her hand…
The stress
bundled up inside her.
She decided
to do the best.
However this
was, in some eyes, the worst.
She held the
knife in front of her
with both
hands -
blade facing
south.
And with an
impeccable, robust force
she pierced her
chest
and fell to
the floor.
She smiled
covered in her blood.
The knife
succeeded her.
-- CrimsonRose333