The day she killed herself had been a good one, one of her best.
She mused over this thought as she stood barefoot on her bedroom desk.
The noose hung in front of her, crafted from ties, shawls, scarves, anything she could get her hands on.
A summer breeze wafted through the open window, rustling the hem of her dress. Voices murmured from the garden below, laughter and idle chatter. They were the voices of her family, her friends.
A graduation cap trimmed with red velveteen lay on the bed on the other side of the room, next to a sealed envelope and her mobile phone. It had vibrated and jangled a cheerful tone ten minutes ago, but would never be checked.
Eighteen years old. She would be eighteen years old forever now.
She arranged the circle of knots around her head so it rested upon her hair like a crown, before hurriedly pulling it down around her neck. She could feel the silkiness of her mother's scarf against her throat.
Her heart seemed to sense its imminent demise and beat wildly, as if it wanted to burst from her, as if it was desperate to escape. A terrifying numbness seemed to pump from it, flowing into veins and trickling through capillaries, until her whole body was frozen with a sinister case of pins and needles.
The voices outside seemed to grow louder.
An uneven breath. The seconds seemed to linger beyond their usual tick of the clock.
She raised a leg and paused, unsure, then stepped forward into nothingness.
The makeshift noose creaked, but it did not give way.
YOU ARE READING
The Perfection Paradox
Novela JuvenilIf Emily had three wishes for her senior year, she'd wish for a place at an Ivy League, Hunter Campbell's undying love and, most importantly, the chance to topple the undisputable Queen Bee of Rosewell High, Kennedy Blakewood. But as senior year st...
