Was it Worth it?

It was Worth it

Petite, elegant fingers danced across the keyboard as a lonely girl slowly drank her soup. Dark thoughts of destruction and death raced through her mind as she drifted off into a new world. A better world. A world where she could do and be whatever she wants to. Taking a pause from her rapid typing, she stopped to think. "What should happen next?" she asked herself.

Ideas flooded her mind as she tried to think. She thought, and thought, and thought until one idea came up. Something new. Something unique. Something she had never written about before. Herself. She continued to rapidly type, as if she was being controlled by some new force. A muse. She wrote, and wrote, only stopping to take a sip of her cold soup or to think about what happens next. But she could only write for so long, for her owners expected hard, laborious slave work of her. She had to type quickly and silently until... She heard one of her owners, probably the male one, pace through the hall into the kitchen, which was conveniently next to her holding area. She kept typing even though she knew that being caught would mean death. She let her mind drift off once more until she heard her door slam open. This was the end, she knew. She knew her death would be painful if she let him take care of it, so she worked quickly and ran past him, grabbing bottles upon bottles of medicine. She ran as fast as her small scarred legs could run, and rushed into the bathroom. The large, terrifying man pommeled the door, shouting horrible, heinous things that no ears should ever hear. She glanced into the mirror wistfully, knowing what she had to do. She slowly took out the razor blade that had been there for her many times, more than she could count, and set it on the edge of the sink as she opened the dozens of pill bottles she had managed to grab. She downed as many as she could. Hand full after hand full until, eventually, she was satisfied with her work. She picked up the small, sharp, silver blade that would help end her pain. She violently dragged it down each of her wrists, but not across because she knew it would not do the job. She let her wrists bleed out as she stepped into the bathtub and laid down. It didn't take long for it all to end. She laid there thinking about her life and who she would miss. No one. It was no one. At that moment, everyone she had ever known was dead to her, for she did not care. A small, breathy sigh slipped out of her lips, and it all went black.