His life was empty. There was no one for him to talk to. He filled up the bath tub. The water rose higher as he swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. Then he undressed and reached for his razor. He slowly dragged the blade across both of his wrists. He made sure the cuts were deep.
This time, nobody could bring him back, that was the plan. The blood seeped out of his veins and turned the warm water into a menacing shade of red. He started to feel drowsy. He made himself comfortable and closed his eyes.
As he drifted off, his head sank into the bloody water. They didn't find his body for hours. When they pulled him out of the water, there was a little smile on his lips. He was too far gone to be saved. No one knew what had killed him, bleeding to death, drowning, or overdose, but it didn't really matter. He was dead.
