Careless Whisper by George Michael is playing now. She walks to the windows and draws the curtain back to let the moonlight in.
It's a full moon.
They signify the end of cycles.
The end of cycles. The end.
She knows it's time for all of it to end.
She isn't crying anymore. She will never cry again.
Never.
Reya dances as she goes to get her make up bag and picks her red lipstick to put it back on.
She has never been more certain in her life.
Picking up her phone, she dials her lawyer a message :
"Hello, after a meeting with myself, I've decided that all I own should be left to the city homes and animal orphanages in case of my demise",
"in case". She smiles.
She goes to take the bottle of Vicodin prescribed to her by the last of many shrinks she's been to.
They were to help with her insomnia but she never took them.
She's feeling elated, she hasn't felt this alive for as long as she can remember, as a matter of fact, she does not recall ever feeling this way ever.
Reya refills her glass with more wine and begins taking in a pill at a time with the wine.
Hey aunt, Naloi, called her manic once. Reya smiles as she looks back on that day.
"They've never understood what art is, and I was walking art", she says aloud.
She's intoxicated now. It's hard to tell if it's from the wine or the unexplainable high that that comes along with sadness.
Destructive, you may term Reya, but there's always been some perfection in her destruction.
She sings out loud with Madonna as she dances, almost frantically now.
Reya is fading, slowly, but fading. Blending into the dark, in which she found light in.
Eternal bliss.
