Forever Young

Deciding her fate.

Upon arriving home, Lucy collapsed onto her bed, the pieces of her shattered life swirling around her like a tornado. With trembling hands, she grabbed a pen and paper—the only solace she had left. She poured her heart out to Tim, the words flowing like blood from a fresh wound. Each stroke of the pen was a release.. It was her final goodbye. The names and faces of those who all of a sudden "cared" —Grey, Angela, Jackson, Nyla, Tim—flashed across her phone screen, their calls and messages a constant reminder of the world she was pushing away. But Lucy couldn't bring herself to answer them. She made up her mind.

Instead, she found herself in the bathroom, gripping her blade tightly. The familiar ritual began, the sharp edge carving through her skin as if it were mere paper. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the crimson rivers that flowed from her wrists. She welcomed the pain, letting it consume her until the world grew hazy and distant.

Lucy's eyes landed on the medicine cabinet, and without a second thought, she flung it open. The array of colourful bottles seemed to taunt her, offering a quicker, more permanent solution to her pain. With a wild, determined look in her bloodshot eyes, she began swallowing pill after pill, choking down handfuls until they formed a bitter cocktail in her stomach. Each one represented a chance to escape, to be free from the torment that had become her existence. As she emptied the last container, Lucy sobbed, her vision blurring around the edges.

The voices in her head grew louder, urging her on, drowning out the faint whispers of reason that struggled to surface. *They won't understand*, she thought, her mind foggy from the drugs. *They'll just be relieved when I'm gone.* With that final, tragic thought, she pulled herself up and out her apartment door.